Page 12 of Edge of Unbroken

My grandpa chuckles. “Good question. I think I last used it to disassemble the articulated loader, so probably in the old workshop.”

Great. My grandpa’s old workshop is like tool purgatory. It’s where everything goes to die, even though he swears all the broken junk is still useful, either because he’ll eventually repair it or use it for spare parts. He never does, but that’s a different story.

“Okay, so you’re really expecting me to spend the next three days searching for the ratchet wrench and then maybe find my way back to the house, huh?” I grumble half-heartedly.

My grandpa’s workshop isn’t like the little sheds most people, including my dad, have in their backyards. My grandparents own thousands of acres of land and some real heavy-duty ranch equipment like tractors and loaders. His workshop is the size of a single-family home, and I’ve been in there often enough to know that trying to find something as small as a wrench will be akin to finding the proverbial needle in a haystack.

My grandpa just chuckles again. “I’ll make you a deal. If you’re not back by dinner, we’ll send search and rescue.”

“I see where my dad gets his sense of humor,” I mutter, and make my way to the workshop, dragging my heavy limbs through the snow. I push the barn door back, my deep breaths visible as icy white fog. Even in the daytime, temperatures are below freezing in Montana this late in December.

“Fucking great,” I groan as I stand on the threshold. This place is an unorganized mess of… everything. “Okay, look for the articulated loader and maybe you’ll find the wrench, Ran,” I tell myself, and commence my search.

It takes some digging around the unused junk my grandfather and Thomas store in the workshop, but I eventually find the wrench, then stand there for a few minutes marveling at the possibilities. This workshop, with its high ceiling, metal siding, and concrete flooring reminds me a lot of the gym I work out at back home, the gym I go to with Shane, and Steve, and… Cat.

Immediately, visions of Cat in her workout clothes appear before my mind’s eye, how her skin glistens with sweat, how utterly fucking sexy that girl is,always. Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to see her.

***

“You need a gym,” I say matter-of-factly, breaking out of my own head and interrupting the discussion that’s been going on around the lunch table. I wasn’t listening, have no clue what everyone was talking about. I’ve been obsessively thinking about that workshop and its potential.

Working out and throwing around weights has always been an incredible outlet for me. Aside from getting stronger it was also a great way for me to work through some of the heavy shit in my life, get out of my head, and enjoy some of those post-workout endorphins. I miss that almost as much as I miss Cat.

“No, we don’t,” Thomas disagrees dryly, answering in my grandfather’s stead.

I frown. “Yeah, you do,” I say, my gaze directed at my grandpa rather than Thomas, who obviously doesn’t get the hint.

“And why do you say that?” Thomas asks gruffly.

My grandfather’s eyes twinkle at this unfolding pissing match. My gaze moves to Thomas across the table from me. “Because it would make the ranch more competitive,” I say, matching his dry tone, then turn my attention squarely back toward my grandfather. “It’s another amenity you can offer. I mean, not everyone who tags along on a family vacation, for example, is going to be a pro at riding horses or wants to ‘rough it.’”

My grandfather puts his fork down, leaning back in his chair, studying me. The corners of his lips tug upward as if he’s pleased with my speaking up. I haven’t really participated in around-the-dinner-table chats since getting here. The first five weeks or so I didn’t even really eat, let alone leave my room to do so. Only lately have I been joining everyone for the twice-daily family meals, and even then I’m not especially talkative. My mind is still too heavy most of the time, but this gym idea suddenly needed to be expressed.

“Ran might be on to something,” my aunt Erin says. “Martin was actually just doing a price analysis because we were thinking about increasing the cost of the rentals, but he didn’t think we could, based on what we offer and compared to some of the other guest ranches.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Thomas asks. His gruffness is beginning to irk me.

“It means that vacationers expect a lot more amenities now, and that includes access to a gym,” Erin says.

“But don’t people come to the ranch to be outdoors and ride and all of that?” my grandmother asks.

“They do, but many still want access to the creature comforts they have at home,” Erin says. “And Ran’s right. For families, for example, it may be that you have members who are more comfortable hanging back rather than going on three-hour rides, or walks, or fly-fishing excursions.”

“Okay, that’s great, but we don’t have a gym or the space for it,” Thomas says, as if this discussion is over.

“Easy fix,” I say, earning a testy look from him.

“Oh yeah? What are you thinking?” my grandfather finally chimes in.

I shrug. “Convert the old shop you use for storing all the broken crap into a gym. It has good light and plenty of room for you to get some basic equipment.”

“What sort of ‘basic equipment’ are we talking about?” Martin asks. From his posture, I can tell he’s fully invested in this idea.

“Some cardio stuff, some weights, couple cable machines. You don’t have to go crazy by any means,” I say, and force myself to take another bite of my lunch.

My grandpa nods. “And what would we be looking at in terms of cost?”

“I don’t know. Fifteen, twenty grand maybe?” I say between chews.

---