Page 3 of High Density

“I heard,” Thomas shares. “What do you reckon messed up those fences?”

“Not sure. Looked like a bunch of elk or something plowed through, but some of the lumber was already rotting, so it needed repairs anyway.”

“Herd secure?”

“Yup. They’re all set for the summer.”

The storm door creaks when Alex, Jonas’s wife and Jackson’s mother, pokes her head outside.

“Are you gonna come in tonight, Pops, or are you planning to sleep on the porch?”

He huffs and flips back the throw blanket that is covering his spindly legs.

“Hold yer horses,” he grumbles, hoisting himself to his feet.

I move to his side and grab him firmly by his elbow when he wobbles a little as he begins to shuffle to the door.

“Weren’t you on your way home?” he snaps ungraciously, even as he puts most of his weight on me.

I grin and catch the amused twinkle in Alex’s eyes as she patiently waits with the door propped open.

“I’m leaving right now,” I tell him as I hand him off to Alex, who leads him inside. “See ya in the morning.”

The old man doesn’t turn around but lifts his free hand and waves as he shuffles down the hallway. I close the front door and head over to my truck.

I imagine it’s not fun getting so old your body won’t move the way you want it to anymore, and you need help with the most basic things. Still, I’d rather have a sound mind in a decrepit body, than the other way around. My grandpa on my father’s side had vascular dementia, and he became a person we didn’t recognize anymore. I know the prospect scares my pa, even though the disease itself isn’t necessarily hereditary, the risk factors to developing it can be.

Up until last year, when Jackson—Alex’s son and my friend—tried to finish the job himself, after nearly losing his life at enemy hands in a military operation overseas, I hardly ever gave thought to my own mortality. But that shook me up. Since then, I’ve tried to exercise a little more awareness, a little more consideration, and definitely more appreciation in my day-to-day life.

Like this old 1974 Ford F-100 I fixed up over the winter. It had been sitting in my parents’ barn since my grandpa died overa decade ago. It was the first and the last vehicle he ever bought new, and he kept that truck in mint condition for as long as he could. He left me that truck in his will, and I never once looked at it.

Pa put it in the barn and kept it there all those years, maybe hoping I’d want it one day. He never said anything—Pa doesn’t talk much anyway—but he joined me in that barn and worked with me to get the truck roadworthy.

She’s old, there’s a tear in the bench seat on the driver’s side I still want to fix, and it could use some rust treatment and a new paint job, but her engine is in prime shape, and I’ve come to love every imperfection.

I turn right to get to my place—a trailer parked on a patch of land bordering Libby Creek—and pass Foxy’s Bar. I used to stop in there all the time, but I haven’t been there in months. It does decent business on the weekends and during the summer months when the RV park is full, but it’s fairly quiet tonight. Not many vehicles in the parking lot.

Wait, is that Doc Richards’s truck?

My foot is already slamming on the brakes before my mind processes the information.

Janey Richards. I don’t think the woman likes me much, which is a shame, because she sure as hell has my eye. Just last week she lashed out at me when she was at the ranch dropping off a litter of puppies. I still don’t fucking know what I said wrong, but the snap of fire in her eyes sure got my blood going.

I pull my truck in beside hers and without giving it a second thought, head inside.

That may have been a mistake.

My eyes zoom in on Janey the moment I walk through the door, and I see the surprise in hers when she recognizes me. I start walking toward her table, when I hear a squeal and see a flash of movement from the corner of my eye.

I turn in time to see Britt running in my direction. I barely have a chance to react when she launches herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck and her legs around my hips. My hands automatically go to her ass to keep her from falling.

“Hey, handsome! I missed you.”

Then her mouth is on mine, and I realize I should’ve stopped outside and thought this through.

Chapter Two

Janey

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