Page 34 of A Better Place

Barrett winces like he actually has a clue how that feels. He fell in love with his high school sweetheart. He never really experienced being friend-zoned or major heartbreak, for that matter. “Ouch.”

“Word.” I nod my head a few times seriously.

“What are you, living in the nineties?” he asks, laughing.

“Well, I didn’t say word to your mutha.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “May as well have.”

“Whatever. What were even talking about?”

“Carly. Gym. Are you seriously getting so old that you can’t remember back five minutes?”

“This is what talking to you does to a person! I don’t even remember what day it is!”

“It’s Saturday,” Barrett adds helpfully, picking up another log and placing it on the wood splitter. The wood splinters in two pieces, and sawdust flutters to the ground, lightly covering our dark brown work boots.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. So… the gym? You sure you don’t want to just workout here? With Grady?” Barrett motions toward the outdoor arena Grady and he built together.

“No thanks.”

“What’s the matter? Think he’ll kick your ass?” He runs the thick log through the splitter.

“I don’t think so. I know so. That thing is a torture chamber.” I pick up the two split pieces and reposition one to run through the knife.

“Right?” He grins. “I don’t see how he does it every day.” He tosses the split pieces aside while I put the other half back on the tray.

“He’s eighteen.” I give him a perfectly logical answer.

“Word.”

I bust out laughing. Barrett is such a dork.

We keep working on the pile of wood in relative silence, stacking up the wood as we go.

“Anyway, yeah, I found a gym. Tate’s? It has a boxing ring, does some MMA-type stuff, too.”

He nods his head. “Yeah, I know the place. Tate’s a good guy. We actually did some work for him when he remodeled his house.”

“Yeah? He a good guy?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Seems like it. I don’t know. Didn’t really have many in-depth conversations with him. He did come over one day to check out what Grady designed and built, to make sure it was safe and all that.”

“That’s cool,” I say distractedly. I look away from his questioning eyes. “He’s married, right? Has a couple kids?” I briefly look back toward him but regret it immediately.

Barrett gives me a funny look as he finishes the last of the wood. He shuts down the wood splitter then leans against it, folding his arms across his chest and crossing his ankles.

“Why do you wanna know?” He smirks.

I look away from his all-knowing eyes and shrug my shoulders. “No reason. Just didn’t want to be giving my money to some roided-up asshole who’s on a testosterone power trip.”

“Uh, yeah. Not really sure what that means.”

“Is he a gym-rat asshole, or is he a good guy?”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess that maybe Tate is working with Carly?”

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