He rolls his eyes again. “Of course I forgive you.”
“What about Graham?”
Harrison purses his lips.
“He’s your best friend. You have to forgive him.”
He looks like he wants to argue my point, but he doesn’t. Instead, he simply sits there in silence. Finally, he mutters, “Yeah, I’ll get around to that.”
Chapter twenty
Graham
I am the biggest fuckup of all time, and I only have myself to blame.
I knew it was a bad idea, but I did it anyway. And now Harrison hates me. And Delilah hates me. They probably hate each other. And I hate myself.
This really worked out well.
And it all goes back to that moment in my apartment when Delilah had asked me to take her virginity. I should have said no. I knew it then, and I know it now.
But I am, after all, a slave to my dick.
I slam the bed of my truck closed, having just loaded it full of old fencing material that needs to be taken back to the ranch center and discarded. I huff out a frustrated breath and hop into the driver’s seat.
Maybe I’m exaggerating. Because as much as the more …primalside of me obviously wanted Delilah, there was something else in there too that was far too interested. And thatsomething else started growing. Until it got out of control and had me about to spill my guts to her the second before Harrison barged in and—
It doesn’t matter.
Because even if I’d said something, what would that have changed?
Besides, what was I even thinking? That Delilah and I would get to be in love and live happily ever after? I don’t believe in that shit.
But for the first time ever, it’s odd to have to convince myself of it.
I make my way along the dirt roads of Thatcher Ranch until I reach the junk yard where things are discarded before being carted off. I park the truck, hop out, and get to work unloading. When I’m almost finished, I see another truck coming up the drive, and soon it’s parked next to mine.
Logan hops out, shooting me a nod of acknowledgement. He’s one of the foremen on the ranch, but I don’t work with him often. He handles more of the equestrian side of things. Training, breeding, selling. He’s also a bit older than most of my buddies—early forties or so—so it’s not like I spend much time with him in the mess hall or outside work hours.
“Need your help with something,” Logan says, voice monotone.
I raise an eyebrow. “What with?” I question, hauling the last bit of rotted fencing from the bed of my truck.
If Logan were one to roll his eyes, I think he would right now. He’s a bit of a stoic. “Get in,” he says simply, inclining his head toward his truck.
As curious as I am, it’s not worth it to argue, so I simply brush off my jeans and follow Logan to his truck. Once I’m in, Logan starts the car and heads off. We sit in silence, and I let the cool breeze wash over me through the half-down window.
“Where are we heading?” I ask, shooting a glance in Logan’s direction.
He doesn’t answer.
I stare at him a bit longer, but when he still doesn’t disclose anything, I simply shake my head and stare back out the window.
Five minutes later, I recognize where we’re going. And in ten minutes, we’re pulling up to the campfire. The place I’d taken Delilah not too long ago.
And as soon as I see who else is there, I turn to Logan and glare. “Seriously?” I ask.
Logan slams the truck into park and turns to me. “Harrison’s been an ass ever since the two of you had a falling out.” Harrison works under Logan most of the time. “So, the two of you better work out whatever shit you’re going through. Now.”
