“That’s hard work,” I pointed out.
“Yeah, but six months of busting my ass and I could make enough to live on for a year. Plus, no one around but fish and other roughnecks.”
“I’m staying local,” Greg said quietly. “Got a daughter in Billings. Haven’t seen her in eight years. Figure I’ll go make a quiet little life for myself there.”
“I’m goin’ to Florida,” Kyle nodded. “I fuckin’ hate winter.”
“Same,” Darius nodded. “Maybe I’ll get a job dressed as Micky Mouse at Disneyworld.”
“Good god,” I laughed, unable to help myself. “That sounds like a fucking nightmare.”
Everyone else joined in, taking turns teasing Darius. All I could do was smile. These idiots weren’t so bad after all.
Chapter 8
Connor
It turned out the creek where the bonfire was taking place was the namesake of the town. I wasn’t sure if partying on Hell Creek felt like a good or bad omen, but I wasn’t terribly worried about it either. Superstition never held much sway over me. What I was worried about was getting caught. But the guys seemed convinced and Larry was trustworthy. I figured it was worth the risk to have just one night of normal.
We snuck out after dark, following a narrow trail through the pasture that led to a small copse of trees along the creek. The sound of music and laughter drifted toward us before we even saw the glow of the fire. My pulse quickened, not from fear, but from a strange mix of anticipation and anxiety. It had been so long since I’d been in a normal social situation that I wasn’t sure I remembered how to act.
“Come on, slowpoke,” Joey called back to me, already several yards ahead with the others. “The beer’s getting warm!”
I picked up my pace, ducking under a low-hanging branch as we emerged into a small clearing by the creek. The scene that greeted me was almost painfully nostalgic. About twenty people gathered around a crackling bonfire, red cups in hand, country music playing from a portable speaker. Some ranch hands Irecognized from Nelson Ranch were there, along with a few local women. Evelyn waved to us from where she sat on a log, a plaid blanket wrapped around her shoulders. I hadn’t expected her to bet there.
“Boys! You made it,” she called, her face lighting up. She patted the space next to her, and Sam practically sprinted to claim it.
I hung back, taking in the scene. The firelight danced across the water, stars reflected in the dark surface of the creek. Above us, the night sky stretched endlessly, no prison walls or ceiling to block the view. Just like I’d told the guys. This was what I’d missed most.
“Beer’s in the cooler,” one of the hands I didn’t recognize said, nodding toward a large blue cooler near the fire. “Help yourselves. It’s cheap, but it’s wet.”
Joey and Kyle didn’t need to be told twice. They descended on the cooler like they hadn’t seen alcohol in years—which, to be fair, they probably hadn’t. Greg followed at a more measured pace, while Darius immediately struck up a conversation with a pretty brunette sitting on a fallen log.
I made my way over to the cooler, grabbing a beer more for something to do with my hands than any real desire to drink. Seven years of sobriety in prison had killed my tolerance, and the last thing I needed was to get sloppy drunk and do something stupid that would land me back inside.
“Not drinking?” Evelyn asked as I settled onto a log near her, twisting the cap off but not taking a sip.
“Just pacing myself,” I replied with a small smile.
She nodded approvingly. “Smart man. These boys,” she gestured toward where Sammy was already doing shots with some of the Nelson hands, “don’t know when to quit sometimes.”
The fire crackled and popped, sending sparks spiraling up toward the stars. For a while, I was content just to sit and observe, letting the ambience wash over me. People laughing, flirting, telling stories. No guards watching, no rigid schedule to follow. Just the night and the fire and the freedom to be.
“So, how are you adjusting to life at McGrath Ranch after a month now?” Evelyn asked, her eyes kind in the firelight.
I shifted on the log, considering my answer. “Better than I expected. The work’s good. Keeps me busy.”
“Ranchin’ is hard,” she said, lowering her voice. “But the work you boys do there is honest. That counts for something.”
I nodded, watching as Sam took another shot, his face already flushed with alcohol. I made a mental note to keep an eye on him. The kid was a walking disaster waiting to happen.
“Cole and Jesse should be here soon,” Evelyn continued, following my gaze. “They’re just finishing up some paperwork. Wedding stuff, you know.”
“Right,” I said, remembering our conversation at church. “You mentioned they were getting married.”
Her face softened. “Those two fought it for so long. Especially Cole. But sometimes the heart knows what it wants, even when the head’s too stubborn to listen.”
Something about her words struck a chord in me, but I pushed the feeling away. My situation was nothing like theirs. Whatever I felt for Ryder—attraction, frustration, desire—it wasn’t something I could act on. Not with everything at stake.
