Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
*
Archer
Three years ago
I’ve always loved camping. We used to go a lot as a family when I was a kid. Sometimes my aunt and uncle went—we have a big, close family—but even when they didn’t, my cousin Travis would always join us. Along with Cass, he’d been my best friend, only with Travis, it had been since birth. His family had moved to Detroit when we were teenagers, but we’d stayed tight.
It had killed me when we lost him. Eighteen is too fucking young. But I like to come out here, camping, when I’m missing him because Trav loved it so much.
“Why are you so quiet, Archer Thorn?” Janice asks, looking up at me with wide doe eyes. There’s ten of us out here camping this weekend—me, Cass, friends, and friends of friends.
“I don’t really know,” I answer honestly. Maybe part of it is thinking about my cousin. It’s been fifteen years since he passed, and I still miss him.
“Well, if you need anyone to put you in a better mood, I’m available, is all I’m saying.” She gives me a flirty wink. I’ve always been turned on by people who go for what they want, and Janice is a beautiful woman, but for a reason I can’t really explain, I’m not in the mood tonight. There’s something restless inside me that’s not a real familiar feeling. I get it occasionally, usually when something ends up being wrong, but I’ve discreetly checked in with my family already, and everything seems fine there. But I can’t shake it tonight, which is keeping me from enjoying myself.
“Maybe another time.” I give her a smile.
“And it might just be too late by then,” she tosses back, earning a chuckle from me and almost making me change my mind. No-strings-attached sex would feel a whole lot better than the prickling feeling on the back of my neck, but ultimately, I still turn her down.
I try and have fun with everyone else. Cass’s daughter, Meadow, is with family tonight, and my broad-shouldered, ginger best friend is currently surrounded by people listening to him tell a story.
Everyone likes Tripp Cassidy. He’s a good man with a big heart and a firm sense of right and wrong. He’s the best kind of person to have in your corner because no one will have your back like Cass, but if you hurt someone he cares about…let’s just say you don’t want to be on his bad side.
I drink half a beer as night falls, everyone eating and laughing around the fire. When I can’t seem to stay still, I grab a flashlight and make my way over to Cass. “Hey, I’m gonna go for a walk.”
He frowns. “Is everything all right?”
“Yeah, just feeling restless.”
“I’ll go with you,” Cass says, but I shake my head. He’s enjoying himself, letting loose and having a night out. I don’t want to ruin it for him.
“Nah, I’m good. I won’t be long.” He nods, but I can tell he doesn’t like it very much. Cass is protective as shit, we both are—something else we have in common. “I have my phone on me. I’m not gonna get lost, Dad,” I tease. I know these woods too well for that anyway.
I sneak away from the group and down a trail through the trees. I’m not sure how far I walk, but it’s a pretty good distance away. I can’t hear my friends or see the light from their campsite. As I continue, I hear a voice in the distance…then something that sounds like crying.
My heartbeat picks up, my feet automatically moving faster. I’m not armed, since I’m not on duty, but I don’t let that stop me as I hurry toward the sound. My foot catches on something, but I keep going, the voice getting louder. It sounds like a man, the voice deep, but painfully broken, the anguish cutting into me like a knife.
There’s a light up ahead, a small fire, and as I approach, I see him.
Easton Swift.
He’s younger than me. I’m closer to his brothers’ ages, though I don’t know either of them well. I saw Morgan more when we were younger, but he moved. I’ve had more contact with Rhett in recent years, since I’m a patrol officer and he’s a lawyer. Still, everyone knows the Swifts, and the tattooed, blond man leaning his forehead against a tree stands out as the outsider, the troublemaker, in an otherwise seemingly perfect family.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
I don’t move toward him, staying tucked away. This is a personal moment. I don’t want to invade his privacy, but on the other hand, I can’t leave him. There’s something so…lost about him.
“I can be sorry,” he says, which makes me frown. “It was my fault…I miss you so much.” His voice cracks, and he wilts to the ground, as if his knees have given in. Whom is he talking to? There’s no one around but me. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he repeats over and over, and begins to wail. His fist pulls back, and Easton punches the tree.