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“Well, I hope she gets him. He’d be an amazing addition.”
“That he would be,” Callum concurs. “Give me a few days to touch base with Brienne, but honestly, she’s going to want you back too. Training camp materials will go out via email in a few weeks.”
“Looking forward to it. And Callum?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry for the hell I put you and the team through. I’ll apologize to Brienne when I see her.”
“Thanks for saying that. Apology accepted, and we all know you were going through shit.”
He has no clue the exact shit I was going through, but I’ve made peace with it.
We disconnect and once again, my eyes go to the trees. Fuck if I’m going to let Tillie sell her property. If I did that, I’d be killing her dreams.
But something more nags at me, some realization I feel like I should come to, but it’s elusive.
Not sure what it is, but I do know I have to do something to stop her plans from going any further.
Pivoting, I head into the house, through the kitchen, and straight to the garage where I search for what I need.
When I have my implements, I march back through the house and into the backyard. With purpose, I stride to the line of trees that separates our houses, and I set the chainsaw on the ground, tossing the gloves on top of it.
Then I pop the top off the can of bright blue spray paint I’d found on a shelf, and I mark the trees. There are far too many to complete with a single can of paint, but I mark the smaller ones that I know I can cut down myself. I walk straight through the copse, marking easy trees to my left and right until I reach the edge of Tillie’s yard.
Her house sits there, tidy and quiet looking. Her art studio window faces this way, and I wonder if she sees me. Assuming she’s still in there. From the angle, I can’t tell if her car is in the driveway.
After I paint the final tree, I trudge back through to my yard and toss the can on the ground. I pull on the gloves and grab the chainsaw.
I’ve used it around the property, cutting through vines and overgrown bushes. I used it once on a downed tree that wasmostly rotten. I’ve never cut down a live tree before, but it can’t be that hard. I just have to stay out of the way when it falls, right?
I got this.
Moving through the thin line of trees back to Tillie’s side, I locate the skinniest and shortest—a young pine about twenty feet tall, no thicker than my thigh—which means I’ll be able to cut through it like butter.
The tree, not my thigh.
I put the chainsaw on the ground, toggle the switch, and purge the valve. I then hold on tight and rip the cord, feeling satisfaction as it rumbles to life on the first attempt.
Lifting it, I can’t stop the ridiculous smile of near achievement that breaks free as I square up to the young pine.
I’ve had much success with this tool, so I’m slightly surprised that it does not, in fact, cut through the wood like butter. I have to put some pressure on it, but as the teeth dig in, it starts to work its way through. I add a slight back-and-forth motion, which speeds the process, and in about thirty seconds, I’m all the way through the trunk.
The tree immediately lists, not away from me as I’d hoped, but toward me. In the split second it takes for it to start falling my way, I realize my game plan for directional gravity is nonexistent.
Luckily, I’m quicker than the tree as it falls toward Tillie’s yard, and I easily scramble away. Because the limbs are up higher than where I cut, I’m easily out of their reach as the tree crashes to the ground.
I power off the chainsaw, as this didn’t go quite as expected. I have to cut this up quickly and move it off her lawn, but before I can consider where to start, Tillie’s yelling at me, “What in the hell are you doing, Coen?”
Glancing over, I see her stomping across the yard toward me, arms swinging to propel her, a glare leveled right at me.
The answer seems obvious, but I answer, anyway. “Cutting down the trees.”
“You could have killed yourself,” she snaps as she reaches the head of the tree with its fluffy branches and pine needles obscuring most of her from me. “I was watching from the window, and you had no clue as to which way the tree was going to fall.”
“I have catlike reflexes,” I reply with a grin as I place the chainsaw on the ground.
And fuck… when is the last time I grinned where I felt it all through my body?
