Page 30 of Belong With Me

Perhaps I could ask her on a date. People still did that, right? Though I wasn’t ready to take her into town where everyone could see. But I could make something pretty special out here on my family’s land. We had a river running through part of the property—I could set up a fire pit, blankets and cushions for comfort and a picnic basket. Have some time alone, just the two of us, under the stars. Yeah, that would work. Romantic as fuck too. I could see if what I was feeling was anything worth pursuing, or if it would be better to put it all to the side.

After another ten or so minutes, I whistled up in the direction where the boys had run off to earlier. They came running, and when I offered up the open door, they jumped in the cab. Milo positioned himself on the passenger seat, while Oz settled in the footwell.

Heading out, I drove to the spot Logan indicated on the phone. The site of the old soup and beer cans on the old fallen tree trunk a ways away had me smiling. When Dad first taught me to shoot at age twelve, it was because I was asking where he was taking Wyatt on a Sunday. He would always tell me, “I’ll take you on your twelfth birthday, my boy. Not a day before.” I hadn’t understood at the time. But that first time I jumped down out of his old Landcruiser, I knew I was in for one hell of a day.

Now, whenever I came out here, I somehow felt closer to him. Perhaps it was because I had so many fond memories of our times spent together. From that moment, when I shot my first beer can clean off the trunk I knew I wasn’t like them. Out of my brothers and I, I was the least comfortable with a gun in my hand. Even now. My brothers in no way had the same aversion to them that I did. Coming out and shooting cans was one thing. To actually pack up and go hunting for live animals was something completely different. Something I chose not to do.

When I had to shoot the deer that Sienna ran into with her car, it was hard. Looking into that animal’s eyes, though, I could see the pain it was in. As I raised the rifle and aimed the barrel directly at his head, I whispered my apologies before pulling the trigger. At least it was out of its misery. It suffered no longer.

When I’d stepped out of the vehicle, I pulled the lever to fold my seat forward, then reached in and removed the leather bag holding my rifle. Once the seat was pushed back in place, my boys jumped out, landing by my feet and instantly taking off together towards the nearby river.

After setting my gun in the tray, I walked over to the cans to collect those on the ground and organized them along the log in different spots. Then, taking a few with me, I headed back to put them on the remaining stumps of a couple of trees that we had chopped down over the years for firewood.

The sound of an engine approaching had me looking towards the rise, just as the gray of Logan’s Ram came into view. Setting the final can in place, I waved and then wandered over toward where he was parking beside my own truck.

He was still wearing the clothes he wore daily to work when he emerged from the cab. A faded black singlet that had seen far better days and jeans with holes in the shins. The boots on his feet were covered in oil stains. But that Stetson sitting on top of his head was just like mine. Well-worn but something he wouldn’t be seen dead without.

Stepping closer, we clasped each other’s hand and leaned in, slapping each other on the back in our usual greeting. “Ready to get your ass handed to you, brother?” he asked.

Rocking back on my heels, I let him go and shook my head at his taunt . “Pretty sure the score is currently seventy-one to sixty-eight.” Pausing to ensure he understood, I told him, “In my favor.”

Chuckling, he turned back to his truck, leaned into it, and took down his own gun from where he kept it clipped into the rack installed above the seats. “Pretty sure you’re lyin’ about that.”

“Whatever.” I headed to my own tray, unzipped the carry case and pulled out the gun, checking to see if the magazine had enough bullets. I thumbed a couple in before slamming it back home, then slung the strap over my shoulder.

“Are we putting the usual on this one?” Logan asked, referring to the regular wager we had. He gestured at the cooler in his cab, where I’m sure the six-pack of beer waited.

“You’ll have to come back to the house if you win.” I watched for his facial expression.

“And suffer through one of Savannah’s dinners?” Unable to keep the smile from spreading, he laughed. “I don’t think I could possibly survive it.”

I rolled my eyes and we began setting up in our usual place. Taking turns, we shot at the targets for about half an hour. Finally, Logan came to stand beside me after a few more cans fell from their places.

“Right. That should have settled your thoughts some. It’s time to cut the shit, man, you need to get something off your chest.” He fished a few bullets out of his pocket and added them to the magazine. “You’re off your game today and to be perfectly honest with you, it’s showing pretty bad.” He waved his free hand in the direction of the cans that still remained upright atop the log.

“I’ve got a handle on it,” I told him, even though I heard the lie in those words myself. With Logan having known me since we were only seven, I knew he heard it too. As if to prove my point, the next shot I lined up clean missed, and the tree trunk splintered as my bullet caught it, instead of the can it was intended for. Sighing, I flicked on the safety and added, “Maybe not as much as I thought, though.”

Logan took a shot and nailed it, the can vanishing behind the log. “Get it out, man. Better out than in, don’t they say? Unless it’s your woman we’re talking about.” He smirked.

When I didn’t laugh with him, he flicked his own safety on and set the gun down gently. He headed to the cab of his truck and pulled out two icy cold beers for us. Offering me one, he said “Look, man, I’m not telling you how to feel, but you’ve got a soft spot for her, don’t you?”

I cracked open my can, stalling since I needed a second longer to figure out my answer. “It’s not a fucking soft spot.” I paused, searching for the right word. When it does finally appear, it comes, all too easily. “It’s a weakness.” I took a drink.

“Or it’s the best fucking thing since sliced bread.” He opened and drank from his own beer. I didn’t have to wait long to see what the point was he was trying to make. “Sometimes what you call a weakness, others see as strength.”

“Anna-Beth—” I started but he held up a hand. I stopped what I was about to say, waiting. It didn’t take long.

“She’s her own woman. What happened there had nothing to do with you. Nothing at all. That was her decision to make.” He seemed to be searching for words as he looked at the ground and kicked at a rock. I watched it skip across the dirt. “Look, I’m not overly impressed with my brother being involved in that situation either, and you know that. You guys are the family I chose, and I’ve never been happier with it. Maybe, just maybe, all of that went down for a reason. That reason might be that you would be available and ready to try again when your black-haired bombshell drove her bug into that fencepost.”

My eyes searched the horizon, taking in what he’d just said. Could it be true? That everything went down the way it did so I would be ready when Sienna barreled into my life? It had been years since it all happened, and in that time, I hadn’t opened my heart once. Now, after only a couple of days, I was thinking about her in a way that was almost foreign to me. It had been so damn long. There was something about her that wouldn’t let these feelings remain hidden.

“I hate to sound like a freaking guru, shaman kinda guy right now. But maybe you should go for it? Talk to her. See how she feels. There’s nothing to be afraid of, man.”

“Maybe you should take your own advice.” I took another deep draw of the can. “You and Savannah? Yeah, man, we see it. You like her.”

“Nah, she’s just one of the family.” He finished his own can, crushing it in one large hand and walking to the trunk to put it down. “Let’s make this last one all or nothing. We both shoot. If you hit the can, I’ll tell Savannah the truth. If I hit it, you need to fess up to the bombshell. Deal?”

I picked up my gun in answer. He nodded, coming to stand beside me. We both readied ourselves. I took a calming breath and focused down the barrel, moving my feet just a little more so I could balance myself. Settling the butt of the gun against my shoulder, I quickly flicked my gaze to the trees; my focus locked onto the leaves as I watched them moving. The wind was blowing gently so it wouldn’t affect my aim too much. Logan cleared his throat, and I knew he was ready, waiting for my cue.

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