Chapter 21 Lucy #2
Harris gives them the rundown, starting at the part where he was trying to be romantic, lost his footing, got startled when I got startled, and ultimately crashed and burned in a flaming pit of trash.
Deshaun and Miles exchange glances, slowly turn to me, then back to Harris. Finally, Deshaun asks the question everyone has clearly been dying to ask. “Bruh—are the two of you seeing each other?”
I choke. “Can we please focus? The man fell out of a second story window!”
Miles crosses his arms. “Yeah, but why?”
Deshaun nods. “Dude—what the fuck have you been up to these last couple days? Is she the reason you’ve been a no-show for the team activities?”
The team activities? “What team activities?” I blink, the pieces clicking into place. “Oh my God—yoga was a team activity, wasn’t it?”
Miles and Deshaun exchange glances, then both turn to Harris, who suddenly finds the ceiling very interesting.
“Uh . . . I showed up for the mandatory ones,” Harris offers, scratching the back of his head.
Deshaun raises an eyebrow. “But you’ve skipped almost everything else.”
Harris shrugs, attempting nonchalance. “I’ve been busy.”
I decide now is a fantastic time to throw Harris under the bus and tell his friends what he’s actually been up to. “You all know he’s been moonlighting as a lumberjack, right? For the fall festival?”
There.
Take that!
Both teammates turn to Harris. “We thought Lumberjack was just a sexy nickname.” Miles blinks. “Do not tell me you were being serious. Dude, do not.”
Annabelle decides to chime in. “Yes, gentleman, he’s serious. He’s a flannel-wearing, axe-swinging logroller. You know—a lumberjack.”
Deshaun’s mouth drops open. “Why the fuck would you do that? What did I tell you, man! You cannot afford an injury!”
Harris nods in my direction. “I did it to impress her.”
Miles and Deshaun turn to me in sync, slowly, waiting for me to confirm or deny their friend’s madness.
I shrug. None of this was my doing.
Meanwhile, my mother claps her hands together in absolute delight. “That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard!”
Dad groans. “Liz, please.”
“Oh, hush,” she scolds him, beaming at Harris like he’s Prince Charming. “He’s been chopping wood for my daughter! She needs to marry this man!”
“Mom!”
Harris smirks at me. “You heard her, babe. Guess we better start ring shopping.”
Annabelle is laughing. “I call maid of honor, and obviously I’ll be planning the wedding.”
“There is no wedding!” I throw my arms in the air, patience slipping away along with my dignity.
My father, who has had enough of this conversation, clears his throat. “So, to summarize—this idiot falls out of a window, nearly concusses himself, is also a lumberjack, has apparently been skipping team-building activities during a retreat . . . to flirt with my daughter?”
“I wouldn’t say skipping,” Harris argues, readjusting himself against the pillows. “More like prioritizing.”
Miles shakes his head. “Damn. The man has fallen in every sense of the word.”
“Him landing in a trash can was symbolic,” Deshaun deadpans.
Harris laughs. “Fuck you guys.” He glances at my mother. “Shit. Sorry, Mrs. LeBrandt.”
Dad stands, exhaling like this entire experience has aged him ten years. “All right, I’m done. I need coffee. And silence. Preferably both at the same time.” He gestures at me. “Lucy, don’t let this idiot climb your house again.”
Mom rises to follow, patting Harris on the arm. “Take care of yourself—and we’ll be across the driveway if you need anything.”
Annabelle takes another drink from her cup. “Welp, I think that’s my cue to leave.” Her loud sigh is one of contentment. “This has been the highlight of my week.” She glances at Harris. “Get some sleep, Paul Bunyan. You have a big day coming up.”
I feel my eyebrows rise. “Big day? Look at him—he can’t chop wood anytime soon!” The man is a mess!
“We are not going to miss this asshole in some logging-timber show,” Deshaun says. “He’s going to suffer through it for my entertainment.”
Harris rubs a hand over his face. “Lucy is right—maybe I shouldn’t do the logging competition.”
Annabelle grins, moving forward to pat him on the leg. “It’s so cute that you think you have a choice.”
“I’m injured!” he argues.
Deshaun clucks his tongue and crosses his beefy arms. “Nah, bruh—you’re fine. Worst-case scenario, you swing with one arm.”
I glare at them. “That’s not how axes work.”
Miles hums thoughtfully. “Dude. You’ll earn extra sympathy points from the crowd if you struggle. People love a wounded warrior.”
He’s not wrong.
“You can’t seriously expect me to compete like this,” Harris says from my bed, staring up at her. Still bare chested. Still slightly bruised. Still giving her puppy dog eyes.
Annabelle bats her lashes. “Babe, I don’t expect it—I’m counting on it. It’s going to be great. You’re a fighter, you’ll be fine.” She stretches. “All right, losers, I’m heading out. Harris, make sure you wear that flannel shirt I ordered you, with the suspenders.”
My best friend breezes out my bedroom door.
“And then there were four.” I give Deshaun and Miles a pointed look.
Deshaun leans back against my dresser, entirely entertained. “Man, I don’t know what’s funnier—the fact that she had to order you a lumberjack outfit or the fact that you’re going to be forced to wear it.”
Harris scowls. “I’m not wearing the damn suspenders.”
“Sure you are.”
“Would you please leave?” He crosses his arms over his chest, still very much shirtless, still very much sulking. “I have no idea why you’re even here.”
Deshaun smirks. “’Cause your new boss down at the log yard tracked us down and said you broke your back. Little bitch ass.”
Harris rolls his eyes. “Shut the fuck up—I’m fine.”
Miles gestures toward the bed. “Then why haven’t you gotten out of this bed yet, eh?”
Deshaun shakes his head. “Yeah, bro. You’re stalling.”
Miles crosses his arms, amused. “You scared of putting weight on those little bitty legs, big guy?”
Harris scoffs. “I carried an entire log over my shoulder yesterday, fucker.”
Deshaun snickers. “Yeah, and then you carried yourself straight into a trash can.”
Miles snorts. “A hero’s journey.”
That makes me laugh. These three are quite adorable, and I almost feel bad for Harris. Almost.
He groans, tilting his head back to glare at the ceiling. “I should’ve stayed unconscious in that damn trash can.”
“You weren’t unconscious,” I remind him with a giggle, sitting myself on the bed where my parents were. Glance behind me at his friends and say what I’ve been wanting to say since their arrival: “Okay, guys. Time to go. I have to nurse this guy back to health. He has a big day coming up.”
Deshaun smirks, not ready to leave. “You’re nursing him back to health? That what we’re calling it now?”
Miles grins. “You need us to bring you anything? Ice packs? Crutches? A priest?”
Harris groans again, dragging his hands down his face. “For the love of God, fucking leave.”
“Text us if he cries.”
Harris flips them the middle finger as they exit, their laughter trailing behind them. The moment the door clicks shut, he exhales heavily and slumps back against the pillows.
I tilt my head, watching him. “You okay, Paul Bunyan?”
He glares at me. “No.”
I smile sweetly and pat him on the stomach, letting my fingers linger above his belly button. His abs tense under my touch, and I swear I see his jaw tighten. “You will be. After some rest, hydration, and maybe some mild humiliation this weekend.”
“You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Duh.” I swirl my fingers in a small circle against his skin before pulling away, to mess with him.
He mutters something about regretting every life decision, but I grin as I crawl in beside him and turn off the light.
The spectacle is going to be amazing.