Page 72 of Lost Trust

Jovie’s eyes flit from Micah to me. “Yeah. Don’t do anything stupid for the next ten weeks.”

I laugh. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

The humor disappears from her face. “This is your shoulder. Your career depends on it. Don’t gamble with something you can’t replace.”

I glance back at the MRI.

A complete tear. Not a pulled muscle. Not something I can grit my teeth through and pretend doesn’t exist.

I nod. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Jovie points at me. “Good. Because if I catch you trying to ride a bull before I clear you, I’ll personally kick your ass.”

“Threats, Jo. Really?”

“Damn right.”

I grin despite myself. Then turn and head for the door.

Ten weeks.

I’ve got work to do.

The master bedroom is the first thing we tackle.

Which makes sense, considering it’s the only furniture Bryce and Charli are taking with them.

Everything else stays for Marina and Ryder.

Charli wants them to have a place that already feels like home instead of moving into an empty cabin with a bunch of boxes and bare walls. She’s leaving behind the big stuff too—the couches, dining table, dressers, lamps, even most of the kitchen stuff.

“Lift on three,” I say.

“Why do you always say three?” Micah asks.

“Because that’s when we lift.”

“Isn’t it wasting time though?”

I glance at him. “You want to count?”

“I want you to stop counting and just lift the damn thing.”

“Then fucking lift it.”

We lift.

The bed frame comes off the floor.

“Son of a bitch, this thing is heavy,” Micah grunts. “What’s it made of, railroad ties?”

“Probably. Charli doesn’t do anything half-assed,” I say.

“For fuck’s sake,” Cabe hisses as he strides through the door. He comes to my side and wraps his hands around the railing, easing some of the weight off of me.

“I had it,” I snap.

“Your stubborn ass is going to get us all in trouble with Jovie,” he says.