Page 87 of Timber's Line

“Horseback riding. I don’t know where to go in Atlanta, and I wanted to explore the woods here. She’s comfortable on a horse,” Kash replies, and I smile at him.

“I’m glad you guys take my upbringing into account.”

“But—”

“No buts.” That’s the truth. Whoever I end up with will have to love it here and what I do. I don’t know if I could live anywhere else.

“I think we’ll have fun,” Kash says, and I agree. He’s easygoing. I’m not as connected to him as I am Silas or Rome, but he’s nice. It feels good to have people who care.

“I’m heading to bed. I’ll see you guys at breakfast.” Garrett, Harrison, and Diego are sticking around. I giggle at the idea that Shane is going to need a bigger porch.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO

DAYTON

Brice made me get a job. Not the one I want, but it’s something to do while I pass the time.

Working construction at least keeps me fit. I’m tired after a long week and can barely keep my eyes open as I step inside the house.

It keeps me from thinking about how I fucked up the best thing that should have been.

I don’t even bother saying ‘hi’ to Brice as I crash on my bed. This is good for me, learning what it’s like to have a real job and learning how to be humble. I was always humble, though, I think.

I fall asleep wishing Timber would talk to me. I’ve started building my walls back up because that’s how I keep vigilant. Guys at work tease me about how I’ve fallen from grace and how I’m a pretty boy with no future. I don’t know how they can laugh about that when they work the same job I do.

I wake to a rainy morning and a text telling me there’s no work today. Can’t pour cement in the rain. Not sure what I’m going to do with myself. Even though Brice has taken me in, I’ve also tried to avoid him. Or anyone, for that matter. Diego did call me, Rome as well, but I sent their calls to voicemail.

I don’t care what they have to say, and if it has to do with Timber, I don’t want to know. It would only make me mad. Maybe I should be mad at her, she hasn’t even tried talking to me.

I roll out of bed and shower, throwing on jeans and a T-shirt. Might as well have breakfast.

“Hey.” Brice is cooking at the stove. He looks out of place, cooking. But then again, I remember him doing it for me for many years.

“Sup?” I grab the milk out of the fridge, pouring a glass and downing it before pouring another one.

“Guessing no work today?”

“Nope.” I pop the p. I’m being a brat, but that’s how I survive.

“Want to come to the gym with me?”

“And do what?”

“Spar with me. You need to keep conditioned if you want to get back in the cage.”

“I’m pretty sure that will never happen, no matter what you say.” I have to be realistic.

“Just come. No one will bother you.”

He sets down a plate of eggs and bacon, and I relax a little bit. The one person I shouldn’t be mad at is Brice.

“I talked to Memphis.” Now I’m back on edge.

“I don’t care.” I’m back to being a brat.

“I know you’re pissed . . .”

“Yeah, I’m pissed. They believed some messed up asshole over me, someone they’ve known for years.”