Page 4 of Live for Me

I shot him a smirk before pulling my t-shirt over my head, ready to take a cold shower. “It’s a great idea, kid.” I tossed the shirt into the hamper next to my bunk. “I never said it wasn’t.”

Caleb groaned, leaning his head back so he could stare at the ceiling.

“Why are you in here anyway?” Lance asked as he emerged from the shower in just a towel, his tanned skin on display as he rubbed his secondary towel through his hair.

A second later, we could hear his brother shout from the bathroom. “Motherfucker, did you take my towel?”

Lance grinned as I chuckled. “He’s going to kill you one day.”

“Agreed,” Caleb said with a laugh.

“He can’t live without me,” Lance argued. “I’m his favorite brother.”

“Bitch, you’re my only brother,” Lawson yelled. “Bring me my towel, or Caleb gets to see what a real man looks like.”

Caleb looked at me, raising a brow. “I thought you said Lawson’s balls hadn’t dropped yet?”

Lance threw his head back on a rich howl of laughter as I looked to the ceiling of the bunkhouse. “Jesus, kid,” I muttered with a chuckle. When I looked back at the boy, I threw my hand out. “That was said in secret,” I said over Lance’s laughter.

Caleb shrugged, and Lawson screamed for his brother again. Thankfully, Lance gave in and walked back into the bathroom. “Hurry up,” I ordered. “I want to fucking shower in peace today.”

The bunkhouse door opened then, and Mags stepped in, his black cowboy hat in hand.

“Hey, Mags,” Caleb greeted happily. “You coming up to the house for dinner?”

Mags hung his hat up on a nail by the door and went to the sink, washing his hands. “Nah, bud. Maybe some other time, yeah?” he rumbled as he turned to face the table, drying his hands.

His dark eyes met mine. “You got a minute?”

I nodded. “After my shower, yeah.”

“I can wait.”

Lance came out of the bathroom, still chuckling as he went to his bunk and dresser. “Mags,” he greeted as he pulled on a pair of Wranglers. His brother emerged, his jaw tight as he stared at the back of his twin’s head, clearly contemplating murder.

“Be out in three,” I told Mags as I grabbed my shower bag.

Once I was in the bathroom, I undressed and stepped into the shower on the far left, the same on I used every day. As the water ran down my back, my muscles aching, I muttered, “I really need to get a new place.”

An hour later, I was sitting with Mags on the front porch of his cabin, a glass of whiskey in my hand, watching the sunset. The front door opened, and my friend stepped out onto the porch. We both sat there silently in the rockers, boots up on the railing.

Then, as the sky darkened into a purple, highlighted with oranges and pinks, he spoke. “When are you going into Denver again?”

I inhaled a deep breath, dropping my boots to the porch. “Whenever you want me to.”

“So you weren’t planning on it this weekend?” he asked casually.

I leaned forward, letting the glass hang between my knees. “No. I wasn’t.”

He said nothing, but then again, he never fucking had to. I ignored the pain in my chest and raised the glass to my lips, letting the burn of the whiskey take over. “Thanks for dinner,” I said, changing the subject.

A deep, short chuckle came from him. “It was just a fucking steak, Beau.”

I looked over to him, noting how relaxed he looked. “You have a hard time accepting gratitude, don’t you?”

His dark eyes sliced to me. “You have a hard time taking the leap, don’t you?” The question came out cool and calm, but all it did was piss me off.

“Is that why you wanted me over here? To talk about my failed love life?”

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