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“Tenney Mountain. They bought one of the chalets on the mountainside years ago.”
“Well, that’s easy.”
As we approach the four-way intersection by the lake, the road is blocked off. A cruiser is parked perpendicular to the street, and the officer signals people to detour to the left.
“Yikes, a logging truck is stopped on the other side. Hope everything is OK.” Brynn leans her head out the window to get a better view.
“We can just take the lake road and get back on at the end.” I veer left and slow to around fifteen miles per hour because little ones never look both ways on this road; they see the walk and run full speed.
“So, what are you doing tonight?” Brynn asks.
“Honestly, sleeping. I’m spent. You? Hitting a local bar?”
“I wish! I turn twenty-one in three weeks!”
I lean over and give her a high five. “A member of the drinking class. Good for you. I’ll have to remember to buy you a drink when I see you out.”
We turn left off the lake road and Tenney Mountain is a few miles on the left.
“Are you sure you don’t need me to do anything with your car?”
“Thanks, Jackson, but my dad will take care of it. I’m still in college, so I can get away with being helpless.”
I throw my hands in the air. “Work it while you can, Brynn. You’ll be on your own soon enough. See you Monday.”
“Bye, Jackson! Thanks again!”
I watch to make sure she’s inside safe and then head home for the night. First stop: shower.
I’ve got one foot under the water and one on the bath mat when a text comes through. Lunging over to the counter, I straddle to check the message.
Ryan
Bud, you free tomorrow morning?
JACKSON
That depends.
My mom signed us up for a two-cord delivery and stacking.
What time?
Eight. Shouldn’t take us more than a couple hours.
Yeah, no problem. Swing by and get me.
Sure. Jay’s coming too.
I’d never refuse because I have no excuse. I’ll have to hope that after a few hours of sleep, it will seem less unappealing.
* * *
The next morning, my alarm clock goes off at seven forty-five. Glad I set it because I would’ve slept until noon. I throw on a pair of dirty jeans and a clean T-shirt and put my hat on backward. I run downstairs, brush my teeth, and slide into my boots. Ryan’s no fool—he wouldn’t show up without my coffee after asking me to work on my day off. I grab the one muffin left in the container my grandmother gave me. She can’t help it. The woman needs to make sure I’m fed at all times. I will never convince her otherwise.
I hear Ryan’s truck tires rumble over the pothole in my driveway. When I open the door, a wave of heat hits me in the face. We’ve had four or five days straight in the nineties. We will get a workout this morning.
“What’s up, Jackson?”
