Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Without stopping, I lift the axe and bring it down with a sharp crack. "Cut trees," I mutter, my breath steady.
"Wow, enlightening," Pope says, deadpan, as he drags his axe along the dirt, letting it catch in the dry leaves. "I swear you’re turning into one of them trees, man."
"Only thing missing is the moss growing on his back," Knox chimes in, nudging Pope’s shoulder as they approach.
I smirk to myself but keep my eyes fixed on the tree, lining up my next strike. If I keep working, maybe they’ll leave me be. But I know better than to hope for that.
"Still out here in the woods all by your lonesome, huh, Barron?" Creed sidles up next to me, already grinning like he’s got the punchline ready. "One day, you’re gonna turn into a tree yourself. Get real cozy with the bark, huh?" His chuckle is low and throaty, and I can feel his eyes on me, waiting for a reaction.
I plant the axe into the wood and stand, wiping the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. "Better company than you lot," I say, grabbing my water canteen from the ground.
The others laugh, but it’s Knox who takes the bait, stepping forward with a grin. "Maybe that’s why you’re still single. No woman’s gonna put up with a man who talks less than the wind and spends all his time with trees."
"Yeah," Judge adds, his voice dripping with amusement. "You might need to work on that charm, Barron. I hear women actually like it when you talk to ’em."
I roll my eyes but can’t help the small tug of a grin at the corner of my mouth. "I talk," I say, taking a long drink of water. The cool liquid slides down my throat, easing the heat in my chest.
"Not to people," Knox fires back. "Just trees. What do you even say to ’em, huh?"
There’s a beat of silence as they all watch me, waiting to see if I’ll bite. I know better than to give them the satisfaction.
Pope shakes his head, his tone mock-serious. "Maybe that’s it. Maybe Barron here has a secret tree romance going on."
"Must be the quiet type of love," Judge says, laughing as he picks up his axe, hefting it over his shoulder. "No wonder we never see him with anyone."
I don’t bother answering. This is their way. Always poking, prodding, trying to get a rise out of me. It’s been this way since we were kids. I was never the talker, not like them. They’re all too used to being the center of attention, filling up every room, every space with their noise. But me? I’ve always been content to stay on the edge, let them take the spotlight. It’s quieter that way.
"One of these days," Knox says, shaking his head as he approaches the tree beside me, "some woman’s gonna break through that bark of yours. You’ll see."
"Keep dreaming," I mutter, smirking as I pick up my axe and move toward the next tree. But even as the words leave my mouth, something inside me stirs. An old wound, buried deep but still there, festers for a second before I shove it back down where it belongs.
Knox and the others start working on their own trees, the sound of wood splitting and falling filling the air. It’s not exactly peaceful, but it’s the kind of noise I can handle.
As I swing the axe again, there’s a brief flicker of something. A memory. A smile that used to belong to me. Her laugh, light and easy, teasing me the way my brothers do now. The way her hand felt in mine, soft and warm, before everything went wrong.
I shake my head, gripping the axe tighter. The past is the past. There’s no point digging it up now, a decade later.
But Knox’s words linger in the back of my mind, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts. "Some woman’s gonna break through that bark."
I don’t need anyone to break through. I built these walls for a reason.
Still, as I glance toward the mountains, where the forest stretches endlessly in every direction, there’s a small part of me that wonders.
Maybe they’re right.
Maybe the life I’ve built—this quiet, solitary existence—isn’t enough.
Chapter Two
Tamlyn
The Jeep rattles beneath me, the old engine groaning as the tires bounce over the uneven dirt road. Gravel spits from the wheels, pinging off the underside, but I smile, loving every jolt. There’s something freeing about the roughness, the way it shakes everything loose, like it’s getting rid of the weight I’ve been carrying. My hands tighten on the steering wheel, and the wind whips through the rolled-down windows, tangling the loose strands of hair that have escaped from my messy bun.
The air smells fresh here. Earthy, clean. It’s that kind of scent that fills your lungs and makes you feel alive. I take a deep breath, letting the cool mountain air fill me. Copper Mountain rises in the distance, tall and ancient, its jagged peaks cutting through the sky like something out of a dream. My heart flutters, a familiar thrill bubbling up as I catch sight of the small town nestled against the base of the mountain. Another new place. Another blank canvas.