“Did Travis and Piper make it in?” Preston’s breath clouds in the frigid air as he meets me at the tent. Two industrial heaters are going full blast inside, but it’s never enough. The cold still seeps in, wearing you down in that slow, bone-deep way that makes a man feel older than he really is.
“Yeah. Haven’t seen him this morning though.”
“Well, he’s got”—Preston checks his watch—“six whole minutes, and you know he’ll get here at the last second.”
Preston’s been part of this place since I was nothing more than a baby in diapers, working shoulder-to-shoulder with my old man when they were both young bucks. Even now, semi-retired and long past the point of needing to prove anything, he still shows up most mornings, boots shuffling across the frozen ground like clockwork. Not because anyone expects him to. Lord knows he’s earned his rest. But because these mountains call to him the same way they call to me—with a voice that gets into your blood and changes you from the inside out, until you can’t imagine existing anywhere else.
That, and I think he likes getting out from under Ivy’s watchful eye for a few hours. His wife’s a tornado in human form, but Preston worships the ground she walks on.
Hell, we all adore that woman.
Still, I know he needs moments among the pines. It’s Preston’s way of holding onto who he’s always been.
Every fence post gets checked, and every horse gets a gruff “Mornin’” and a pat on the head.
It’s his way of saying I’m still here, and I still matter.
“You ever think—” I start but trail off before I can say anything worth finishing. Instead, I shake my head and turn my attention back to my phone, scrolling through the list of deliveries.
I feel a large hand settle on my shoulder, and even though I’m a forty-one-year-old man, I still find comfort in the guy who’s always been here for me. Every step of the way, Preston’s seen it all. The good, the bad, and the shit I’d rather forget.
“You did what you could, son,” Preston says quietly, his gaze steady on the horizon. “We become the people we choose to be. Can’t blame our circumstances forever.”
If anyone’s taken the full force of Travis’s cruelty, it’s Preston. He’s been on the receiving end of the lies and the manipulation, yet here he is, still treating him with a kind of patience I can’t understand because Travis has never earned it, and he sure as hell doesn’t deserve it.
The sound of someone trudging through the snow makes us both look toward the house, where Travis is marching in our direction.
“Okay, what can I do then? Give me my orders,” Travis asks, blowing into his hands like someone who’s never felt a cold day in his life.
“Surprised you made it out with two minutes to spare,” I say, eyeing him as he shifts from foot to foot.
“He’s got a woman in his bed, Christian. Pretty sure you wouldn’t be on time either.”
The words hit me like a punch.
Yeah, I still fucking hate it.
“I’d agree if that woman wasn’t cold as a goddamn corpse on the other side of the bed,” Travis continues. “Piper’s got about as much warmth as this farm.”
Before I can think twice, I’m shoving the delivery papers into his chest hard enough that the thick stack thumps against his sternum. The relief of knowing she didn’t wake up in his bed, tangled around him, wars with the urge to introduce his smart mouth to the nearest tree just for talking about her like that.
“You’re on deliveries today.”
“Hell no.”
“Don’t argue with me on this. It’s the least you can do.”
“Fine, let me wake Piper, and then we’ll start.”
“Leave her be.”
“Are you crazy? I can’t do these deliveries alone.”
“Gotta agree with your pops, kid. I wouldn’t have any woman of mine dragging trees around either.”
“Well, we’re not living in the fifties now, and women are capable of helping.”
“Just because they can,” he says, leveling Travis with a look, “doesn’t mean they should. Be a gentleman. Let her rest.”
