Page 54 of Give Me Redemption

But maybe I ghosted her, too.

I left a few days after we went to Hudson’s and talked about Bryce and Mary. I still can’t believe he kept that shit from me.

I can’t seem to let it go, but hell, I can’t let a lot of things go.

I take another sip of my coffee when I hear someone walk up behind me.

“He’s at least 17 hands, right?”

I nod but don’t speak. Sniffing, I rub my nose, but not because I’m high. I’ve chilled out on that for a bit. Hell, maybe I’m done with it altogether. I rub my beard before taking another sip of my coffee. I look over at Bryce, checking out what he’s got in his hands. My helmet. He places it against my chest.

“Come on,” he says.

“What, you think we can just go riding and everything will be fine?” I ask.

“Just come the fuck on.”

I exhale and take hold of the helmet. “Fine.” I toss the coffee and we head back to the shop to grab our bikes.

The trails have grown up a bit, but we make our way through, climbing over large tree roots and turning sharp corners, snapping branches and crunching leaves beneath our tires.

We gain speed across an empty pasture before escaping deeper into the woods, climbing the mountainside.

Sweat rivers down my back, even though it’s cooler up here. The air is crisper like fall is teasing us. The sound of the bike sends me back to my teenage years when I wanted nothing more than to do this always with my big brother.

Bryce is ahead as we continue up the rough terrain. He twists the throttle, his back tire throwing up dirt as he turns sharp between two trees. He dusts me, but I shrug it off.

It’s a path we’re all too familiar with, and as we maneuver over a small log, I see the clearing up ahead past my brother. This part’s the most fun because we can race. I shift gears and give it some gas.

We haul ass to the top, and I fight for the lead as we clear the hill. We keep going, knowing the place we have to stop before flying off the mountainside. It’s a rush and a gamble, but we’re no stranger to either. We turn our bikes, sliding to a stop. I look down over the side, smiling behind my helmet because I love this shit. Dirt and grass fly up, and I look over at my brother, seeing him smiling back.

He removes his helmet and unzips the top of his suit as he kicks the stand out and hops off.

I never grow tired of this view. My brother wanted to get away from here and be in the big city. Don’t get me wrong. I know he loves it, but we’re different in that way. I could build a house right here and settle.

Well, maybe one day, when I’m done having fun. I look out at trees and patches of land as far as the eye can see. The sun glistens off the lake that’s to the right side.

Bryce rests his helmet on the handlebars and walks over to the bench that he and I placed here when I was nine.

This is our spot. This is where we’d come to get shit off our chest, or sit in silence, thinking about life and our possible futures. Although, I’m sure he thought about our past. Bryce has always been stuck there, and I’m hoping Harrison can get his ass right.

After Bryce left and moved to the city, I’d come up here by myself. It was lonely, it sucked, it’s where I decided I was going to join the Army.

Bryce walks over and takes a seat, throwing his arm over the side of the bench.

I climb off my bike and stand, hanging my hands on my hips. I look out but keep quiet, wondering what he’s got to say.

What excuse is he going to come up with this time about his dumbass actions? We haven’t talked really since I found out Mary has been staying at his place, getting clean.

I laugh to myself. Getting clean.

I’ve never seen that woman clean in my life.

“Been a while since I’ve seen this view,” he says, looking over at me. I slide my helmet off before reaching into my front pocket to pull out a Marlboro Red. Striking my lighter with one hand, I inhale, loving the way it cools my nerves.

“You gonna cut the shit and let’s get down to why you wanted to come up here?” I ask, looking his way as I exhale.

I’m not in the mood for this shit. What he did was fucking dirty. I can’t see it any other way. I look away from him because I don’t like the way he’s staring at me. Like he hasn’t seen me in years. Well, I guess he hasn’t really, but I’ve come home some. Each time I came home, we only saw each other for short times. Just enough to catch up a little, have a beer or two, and talk shit.

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