Page 94 of When We Are Falling

For a moment I just watch them from beside my truck, hands palming my hips, Bandit by my side. We’ve made a good dent in the work, but sections of the wetlands still look awful, reeds and grasses coated in thick, black slicks of oil, while pockets of water are a murky reflection of the sky, darkened by the leak through the booms. What kind of idiot doesn’t check on the booms? This is really not what I need today.

Grabbing a shovel and some bags from the back of my truck, I let out a heavy sigh and walk toward them, Bandit trotting alongside me. As I approach, Patrick glances at his watch and then at me, a stupid smirk playing on his lips.

“Late start, Carter?”

His tone is light, but it grates on my nerves. “Yeah, well, some of us have things to deal with besides fixing other people’s mistakes.”

There’s a flicker of surprise in his eyes before he shrugs it off, turning back to his work.

Liam steps up the boggy bank and hands me a pair of gloves, offering a grin alongside them. “Hey, fella, it’s all good. We’ve been making some progress here. Could use an extra set of hands, though. Glad you could make it.”

A nod, but my mood doesn’t improve. I’m restless, on edge: being here is grueling, both physically and mentally, especially after what happened with Blake, and the stench of oil in the air turns my stomach.

Digging my shovel into the muck, the boys are talking around me, but I’m not really listening. I’m too wrapped up in my own thoughts, in the endless loop of pain and frustration playing in my head.

Patrick throws a glance my way. “Everything alright? You’re wound pretty tight today.”

I grit my teeth, forcing a response. “Just tired. Didn’t sleep much.”

“Yeah, that’s too bad,” Patrick replies. “But we’ve got a job to do, man. Let’s stay focused.”

“I am focused.” The words snap out sharper than I intend, and even I know it’s a lie. Bandit gives me a long look from where he’s settled on one of the banks beside Barks, before dropping his head on his paws, watching everyone closely.

I slam the shovel harder into the oily mud, the heavy sludge resisting, before dumping a shovelful into the bag beside me. Repetitive action usually helps clear my head, but not today.

A little way down the line, Jake pauses, wiping sweat from his brow. He nudges Mike with his elbow. “Man, if I ever see another patch of oil again after this, I’m gonna lose it. Think we can convince the mayor to rename this place Slick City?”

Mike laughs, shaking his head as he scoops another clump of oil-soaked dirt into a bag. “Hell, I’m just hoping the next time we take Adele out here, we’re not wading through this mess. Ipromised her clean wetlands by the end of the month, not a damn tar pit.”

Their laughter grates against my nerves, and I slam the edge of my shovel into the dirt with more force than necessary. “You think this is funny? None of this is a joke.”

My voice carries over the wetland and Jake looks up, frowning.

I hold his gaze: “We don’t have all day. Move your asses, or we’re going to be out here until dark.”

Jake looks startled, then narrows his eyes. “I’m taking a quick breather, man. It’s not exactly light work.”

“Do better.” I’m being unreasonable but too wound up to care. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover, and we’re not making any progress with you two dragging your feet.”

“Chill, man,” Jake replies. “We’re all working our asses off out here. Just trying to lighten the mood a little.”

“Yeah, well, maybe save the jokes for when we’re not up to our knees in oil.”

Antonio, working a few feet away, straightens up, his gaze settling on me. “Hey, buddy. We’re all doing what we can. Just relax.”

“I don’t need to relax. I need you guys to get it together. We’re not here for a casual day out—we’re here to clean this shit up.”

Patrick sighs, exchanging a look with Liam, who’s been working quietly beside him, before looking at me. “You’re acting like an ass. What’s really going on?”

“I told you, I’m fine,” I insist, shoveling harder, each motion more aggressive than the last.

Every time I think of Blake, every time I think about the fact it’s over, something claws at my insides, tearing me open. But I’m not going to tell fuckingPatrickof all people that.

“Yeah, well, snapping at us isn’t going to make the oil go away faster.” Patrick’s tone is more pointed. “We’re a team. Act like it.”

“I don’t need a lecture from you!” Heat rises in my chest.

Patrick’s eyes narrow, his jaw tightening. “You think this doesn’t suck for us, too? We’ve all got places we’d rather be.” He takes a step closer, his voice low but charged. “Stop making it harder for the rest of us.”

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