Chapter 8
Fact or Fiction?
Lumberjacking is a family affair.
Luke
“You got this, Luke!” Dakota cheers from where she stands by the creek that runs down the backside of our property.
Trista moves to join Dakota, with Stevie propped on her hip. “You ready to watch your Uncle Lukey eat shit?” Trista coos,
pointing her daughter’s tiny little hand toward me.
“Just be careful, Luke.” My mom stands beside them holding her phone up to the scene. I know that on the other end of that
phone is Everly’s face watching this spectacle from her university in Dublin.
She’s been doing weekly check-in calls with me to make sure I’m sticking to my workout regime. The little shithead is a ballbuster,
that’s for sure. She set up my whole family with a strict training schedule where everyone helped me out in their own ways,
and I have been run ragged for weeks now.
Wyatt collected piles of fallen wood for me to chop, Calder has been practicing the boom runs with me, even getting himself
on the logs to help coach me along. Max found his way up the peak to work on axe throwing with me, though I suspect that was
because Ethan thought he could toss some blades as well.
Rufus was nowhere to be seen during those sessions, thank God.
Even my mom got involved by bringing meals up for us to eat between trainings.
She never used to like driving up the peak without my dad, but she’s become braver since Stevie was born.
Not willing to miss a minute of her new granddaughter’s life.
Winter will probably be a different story, but it’s been nice seeing her up here more.
She’s becoming a part of our day-to-day lives since Dad has passed and I love it.
“I hope he gets wet.” Evil Ethan snickers and covers his mouth like the eight-year-old asshole he is.
Max shoves Ethan so hard, he almost falls over while Cozy just shrugs at her son. “You asked for that.”
“Hurry up, Luke! I have plans tonight,” Everly yells through the phone.
I frown and glance down at my smartwatch. It’s 9 p.m. in Dublin right now. What the fuck kind of plans does Everly have that
don’t start until 9 p.m.? “What are your plans tonight?” I yell toward the phone.
“Luke. Focus,” Max barks at me with a frown. “It’s not just Everly that has other shit to do today.”
I cut my oldest brother a look. Maybe he should be more concerned about his daughter’s plans. And besides, it wasn’t my idea
for everyone to come up here and watch me make an ass of myself. Everly was the one to start the irritating group chat this
morning and now here they all are to watch me do my final practice run for Man of the Mountain.
This is the last obstacle of the day and if I can nail this, maybe I’ll finally be ready for the competition.
Calder stands on the other side of the bank, pointing his phone at me. He’s been threatening to post my failures on his business
page because he’s certain they could go viral and help him sell some furniture.
The fucker.
I point to him and yell over the rush of the stream, “If I make it on the first try, you’re buying beers at the Mercantile
after this. Got it?”
“Easy money,” Calder huffs, readying his camera.
I take a deep breath in as I stare at the row of three logs anchored into the stream in front of me before twisting my hat backward and tucking my loose hair behind my ears.
My shoulders ache from the strenuous workouts.
I’ve grown muscles in places I didn’t know I could grow muscles.
And other than a couple of videos of me eating shit on the floating logs, the mocking from my brothers has been minimal.
Now is the time to show them all this hard work has been worth it.
With a deep breath, I jump onto the first log, moving my feet quickly with short fast steps. My arms fling out, swinging in
opposite directions of my legs to help maintain my balance. My pulse quickens as I hit the second log, and it starts spinning
under my feet so I adjust my steps to re-center my weight over the booms.
I hear Max’s voice the loudest, cheering me on as I fly over the third and fourth log, almost slipping off right at the end
before I take a flying leap and crash directly into Calder who catches me with a loud harrumph.
“Holy fuck you did it!” Calder wraps his arm around me and points me toward my family. “The fucker actually finally did it!”
Everyone cheers except Ethan, who seems strangely committed to my demise. We walk over to join them and I accept several pats
on the back and a big thumbs-up from Everly before she hangs up. I slip out of my water shoes and wipe my feet off on a towel
before stepping back into my work boots.
“Who’s coming to the Merc with us?” Calder asks, slapping me on the back.
“You boys go on without me. I’m going to go lay Stevie down for a nap,” Trista says, shooting me a warm smile. “Amazing work,
Luke. I’m seriously impressed.”
“I’m going to go help Trista.” My mom stretches her hands out to take a drowsy-looking Stevie before glancing over her shoulder at me. “Nice job, Luke. Can’t wait to see how the competition goes for you in a couple weeks.”
“I thoroughly enjoyed that, but I’ll let you boys go do your victory drinks alone,” Dakota says with a wave. Calder steps
in front of her and presses an indecent kiss on her in front of all of us. Ethan makes a puking sound, and Max gives him another
shove.
“We have to go too, but nice work, Luke,” Max tuts in his business voice. “I don’t know how you’ll fair against the pros,
but at least you won’t embarrass the Fletcher name.”
“Thanks, I think?”
Wyatt gives me a hearty shove, offering me a silent congratulations. “I’m going to go kiss my girls goodbye and then I’m in
for those drinks.”
“Really?” I reply, my eyes wide. Wyatt rarely has time for drinks anymore, taking his dad role very seriously. Calder looks
equally surprised.
“Stop looking so shocked.”
An hour later, the three of us are seated in the warm and cozy vintage-vibe bar of the Mercantile, our rural mountain town
watering hole. The only spot you can go in Jamestown for food and drink. It’s located damn near at the end of our lane, just
across the highway. The building used to be an old general store, but has been converted into a bar, restaurant, and grocery
spot. It’s good for us to get essentials without having to drive in to Boulder. And in the winter months, when the snow is
heavy and my brothers and I are feeling trapped, the Merc is just a snowmobile drive away.
“You look like shit,” Judy the owner squawks as she strides over to me and my brothers.
“Everything in my body hurts,” I groan as I shift in the hard wooden chair.
“How come?” she asks, crossing her tiny arms over her chest. Judy is maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet, and no one knows her age because she’ll never reveal it.
She’s one of those people who could be eighty but looks sixty.
All I know is, she hasn’t aged a day since we moved out here and she loves it when we tell her that.
“This dumbass is competing in Man of the Mountain,” Calder says, calling me out with a teasing smirk.
“You what?” Judy cuts me a look.
“Our boy Lukey here fancies himself a lumberjack.”
“I really wish I could lift my arms above my waist to punch you in the nose right now,” I reply flatly.
Judy frowns. “You’re barely a mountain man though.”
This sobers me right up as I stare accusingly at Judy.
“How do you figure?” Wyatt drawls, his voice rough from lack of use.
Her nose wrinkles. “You’re all Boulder transplants. Once a city boy, always a city boy.”
Wyatt’s brows furrow.
“Judy, I’m hurt,” Calder exclaims, pressing his hand to his chest. “We’ve lived on that mountain for over a decade. How can
you think this of us?”
“That’s how I know you’re a transplant.” Judy points right at him. “A real mountain man wouldn’t give a flying fuck what anyone
thinks. You guys want your usuals?”
We all nod, trying to hide the devastation written on our faces. Judy pauses and chucks me under the chin. “Don’t look so
glum. You wear that flannel well. And your beard came in eventually.”
She walks away and I self-consciously press my hand to my chin, combing my fingers through the extra length. I haven’t shaved in a month, thinking that if I let my beard grow a little longer before the competition, maybe I won’t stick out like a sore thumb. Judy is making me doubt that.
Calder breaks the silence. “Does anyone else feel like they were just kicked in the balls by a spiked boot?”
Wyatt and I both raise our hands.
“Judy just hurt my feelings,” Wyatt mumbles, his lower lip sticking out.
Calder points to Wyatt. “I didn’t even know you had feelings!”
“I’m in way over my head.” I sigh heavily, cradling my face in my hands. “I’m barely a mountain man and now I’m trying to
add lumberjack to my résumé like it’s so fucking easy.”
“Shut up.” Calder whacks my forearms, knocking my face out of my hands. “We’ve come too damn far for you to start doubting
yourself now. You’re competing in this event if I have to drag your ass there myself.”
“And let’s not forget the real reason you’re doing all of this,” Wyatt says as he passes out the beers Judy just delivered.
“All this for a girl.”
Wyatt holds his beer up to me and the small smirk on his face looks so much like our father it hurts to look at him. I clink
his glass and then Calder’s before taking a fortifying sip. It’s been quite the month.
Calder wipes beer foam off his mustache before asking, “Be honest, you’ve had it bad for Addison since the day you met her.”
I tilt my head, considering that for a moment. “I don’t know if that’s true. I mean I was obviously attracted to her, but
in case you fuckers forgot, we had a pact to never fall in love again after Robyn.”