Chapter 13 #2
I quickly redirected my attention back to the real reason I went out there before the moment swallowed us whole.
“Well, I’m helping… and that’s final!” I gave him a tight smile.
Bryce’s lips tugged into a crooked smirk. “Have it then, Professor Hollis.”
I rolled my eyes, chuckling. Then I glanced around. “Uh, where’s Adrian?”
Bryce shrugged with zero concern. “Last I saw, he was behind the shed mumbling about how his fingers felt like cooked shrimp. He might’ve passed out. You might want to go check and make sure the snow ain’t taking his soul.”
Just as I turned to look, Adrian was stumbling back into view, zipping up his pants.
“Oh, and since you want to help, you might want to grab an axe too. Cause clearly yo’ boy ain’t cut out for this kind of labor,” Bryce added, whispering.
I finally took notice of their piles.
Bryce’s side looked like Paul Bunyan himself had come by to handle business. It was neat, solid, and artistic. Adrian’s side? Baby, it looked like Jenga on its third mimosa. It was wobbly, unsure, and appeared to be one strong breeze away from calling it quits.
That was definitely not what I expected from a man who bragged about being a carpenter every five seconds. Well… to be fair, Bryce was an uncertified carpenter too. He just fixed shit and let the quality of his work speak for itself.
“Remind me to never pee in the snow,” Adrian wheezed, breathing like he just fought off a polar bear. “My dick shriveled so fast, I thought it hit reverse puberty.”
“In other words, yo’ shit went from lowercase ‘I’ to a damn period,” Bryce chimed in. “Shit, that sounds like regular puberty for you.”
“Nigga, I got length! Ask yo’ ex about me!” Adrian snapped, tone sharp like he genuinely felt disrespected.
Bryce’s jaw ticked as he squared up, voice low and lethal. “I will ask her. And while she’s busy laughing, I’ll remind her what it feels like to come more than once.”
They both turned to look at me.
Bryce’s stare was a challenge, like he knew he was the better choice and dared me to say otherwise. Adrian’s was a cold glare, laden with pain and silent accusations, as if I had betrayed him by sharing whispered secrets about his manhood with Bryce.
If I’m being real, both of them were blessed in the dick department. Adrian had solid length… sure. But Bryce? That man came with length, width, rhythm, and a freak streak that would make Satan sweat. Every time after we had sex, he had me checking the mirror like, girl… you still you?
I slowly turned my head and shook it, lips pursed tight.
The last thing I need is a full-on dick-measuring contest between my ex-boyfriend and the man I’ve been recently been laid up with, moaning into pillows and rethinking life decisions.
Maybe I should’ve just stayed inside and made a cup of tea.
“Okay,” I declared, tossing up a hand. “We are not about to do this… especially not in the cold.” I blew out a puff of frosty breath, narrowing my eyes.
“The only thing getting measured out here is firewood… not length, not girth, or stroke stamina. If I want to hear men argue about who lays dick better, I’d walk through a barbershop on discount day. We need heat, not hearsay! Focus!”
Bryce wore a mischievous smirk that suggested he still had a few tricks up his sleeve. Whereas Adrian was looking like he was two degrees from round two.
“Adrian, is this really all you’ve gotten since y’all been out here?” I asked, changing the subject, eyeing the crooked, sad-looking pile. It looked like a toddler with a grudge against symmetry built it.
“Yeah, man… you sure this ain’t a beginner’s art project?” Bryce taunted.
Adrian glanced at it like it was a masterpiece. “It’s rustic. And uh… I was handling other important business,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck as if that answer would somehow help defend his craftsmanship.
“Like battling frostbite on that baby carrot,” Bryce murmured.
“Bryce!” I warned.
He held his hands up. “Aight. But I told you,” he said to Adrian, “the proof is in the pile.”
I didn’t put too much thought into Bryce’s response. I assumed it was an inside joke and something they were talking about while I was inside the cabin.
“Okay, okay! I’m here… although I’m really not here for this,” Isis announced, her tone dripping with the urgency of someone running late for their own reality show premiere.
She made her grand entrance outside, wearing all white everything.
A snow-white jumper hugged her curves, layered beneath a thick white fur coat.
The matching fur boots that rose to her calves looked like they’d never touched a blade of grass, let alone snow.
Isis’s hat, fluffy and obnoxious, sat just right atop of her head, like a crown made of clouds.
And of course, her lips were glossed to the high heavens, shimmering like she’d kissed a jar of diamonds on the way out the door.
I couldn’t help but snicker. “Did you really change clothes just to come outside?”
Isis’s expression suggested that my question was one of the dumbest she had ever heard.
“Uh… yeah. I wasn’t about to come out here looking like a hostage,” she carried on, pulling the collar of her coat tighter around her neck, as if to shield herself from the cold and the perceived judgment. “What if we get stranded and rescued by a camera crew? I gotta be prepared!”
I ignored her theatrics and motioned toward the log pile. “Girl, go grab a piece.”
“A piece of what?” she asked, eyebrows raised in confusion.
“A log… one of those big brown things over there. That’s firewood. It keeps us alive and warm."
With a dramatic sigh, Isis flipped her hair. “Ugh! Okay! But if I chip a nail, somebody’s Venmoing me for a fill-in! And if one splinter so much as looks at me funny, I’m suing!”
I grabbed two logs with ease. “Just make sure you sue the tree.”
Isis stomped away with exaggerated grace, her furs trailing behind her like a royal train.
“Bryce… why would you say that to that man?”
He smirked slow, deep, and disrespectfully calm, while eyeing me like the answer was obvious.
“’Cause I’m petty, Chess… and thorough. You know this.”
I stared at him, waiting for the real reason.
Bryce’s eyes didn’t soften… they sharpened.
“And because any man who lies to you or plays in your face, he gon’ answer to me.
Plus, the nigga tried to flex on me. So he deserved a lil’ verbal concussion.
I wasn’t gon’ hit… not unless he stepped crazy, but I ain’t above tap-dancing on a nigga’s ego.
” He shrugged like the truth weighed nothing.
“Some dudes need stitches; others just need to be reminded who they are not.”
Bryce passed me a particularly hefty log, and when our hands brushed together, I felt a little electric spark shoot up my arm. It settled somewhere deep in my stomach, buzzing like a live wire. His eyes swept over my arms, and I could tell he noticed the effect that brief contact had on me.
“You got it?” he asked, his brow furrowed with a genuine concern that made me smirk.
“Of course. I don’t have these muscles for nothing,” I kidded, flexing my bicep for emphasis.
His eyes gleamed with that familiar teasing glint. “You still hard-headed, though.”
“And you’re still an over-protector," I shot back, rolling my eyes playfully.
Bryce licked his lips—a habit he had when he was trying to formulate a response. “And I always will be when it comes to you.”
This man!
I felt a rush of memories flood my mind. There was a reason I hadn’t fully moved on—I simply couldn't.
Not with him still sounding like that… looking like that… caring like that.
For a fleeting moment, we were just two souls caught in the biting cold, pretending like our hearts weren’t thumping for reasons that had nothing to do with the chill that surrounded us.
I diverted my thoughts and nodded toward Isis, who was tiptoeing across the snow like it was a high-end rug and she just got a pedicure with no insurance.
“I think it’s your assistant you need to be more worried about,” I said, stifling a laugh at her exaggerated movements.
Bryce let out a short laugh. “Nah, she’s good. The cold will humble her faster than I ever could. Besides… I only protect what’s mine.” He winked, before turning back to the wood he was working with, his focus shifting and somehow making the moment feel all the more real.
Meanwhile… Adrian was staring at his own pile as if he expected them to magically assemble themselves if he just looked sad long enough.
I shook my head.
Just as I was about to take the first set of wood back in the cabin, a bloodcurdling howl cracked through the air.
“Aaawwooouuuuuuuuuuuu! SHIT—AHHHH!”
Adrian’s voice climbed ten octaves and dropped five IQ points in one breath.
I flinched, nearly dropping the log, then hastily spun around. “What the—?”
Adrian was hopping on one leg like a newborn horse, clutching his knee with both hands, his face twisted in a theatrical portrayal of agony.
Bryce stood back with an unbothered demeanor—arms crossed, a toothpick wedged between his teeth, and looking far more amused than concerned as he watched the chaos unfold.
“Oh my goodness!” Isis screamed from behind me.
Without a second thought, she took off running toward Adrian like he was her man, and they came there together. Isis shot past me so fast that her hat flew halfway off, twisting to the side like it changed its mind about being cute in that weather.
I dropped the logs and walked over slowly, mumbling to myself in frustration, “I know this man is not about to die out here! It’s too damn cold for this!”
Isis dropped down beside Adrian, assuming the role of a triage nurse in a cabin getaway sitcom.
“I got this! I’m trained for this!” she exclaimed with an urgency that only made me roll my eyes.
“Trained for what, exactly?” I shot back, curious to hear her answer.
“Medical crises! I’m a flight attendant—”