Lumberjacked

by Alexandria Hunt

  “Thank you so much,” I replied. “I won’t be but a minute.”

  I got out, dashed up the steps, and tried the front door. It was locked.

  On a whim, I knocked and started to search the front porch for a spare key.

  Much to my surprise, the door opened, and warm light spilled out.

  “Oh, hey you, the TV girl, right? Rayan, was it?”

  Peony stood in the doorway in a slinky nightgown, a bottle of wine in her hand.

  “Uh, no, it’s Reagan,” I replied, and blinking in disbelief. I was speechless, my eyes darted from her to the dining room behind her. I could see candles and dinner for two set up on the table where I’d eaten breakfast with Aaron just that morning.

  “You must be wondering what the heck is going on,” she said with a wide, smug smile. “Aaron and I have been together for so long it was just inevitable that we’d get back. Especially once you left—we’ve been planning this the last couple days right under your nose, hun. He couldn’t wait for you to go.”

  I thought about the texts in the airport and how weird he’d acted about them. I thought about how quickly he seemed to shut down and want to leave me.

  Something didn’t add up though, and my gut told me she was lying. I had to believe she was lying. “Where is he then?” I demanded and stared her down.

  “He ran into town to get some whipped cream,” she smirked. “For our favourite dessert.”

  I caught her meaning and almost gagged. The thought of Aaron’s mouth on her, him inside of her, her all over him…it almost made me vomit.

  “Thanks,” I replied miserably, and I turned to leave.

  “Oh wait, I want to show you this first,” she said, holding out her hand, wiggling her fingers to add, “he finally proposed.”

  She was wearing the ring from the show. There was no way I believed her, and yet there was the evidence, right on her finger. Anger flooded me so forcefully that I couldn’t help myself, I reached out and tried to yank it off her hand. “That belongs to the network!” I yelled and pulled harder when it wouldn’t give.

  “Hey, it’s mine, leave it alone,” she whined and reached her other hand back and slapped me.

  That set off some kind of fire I didn’t know I had. I slapped her back, grabbed her hair and started to slam her face into my knee. I was so enraged I didn’t know what I was doing.

  “I’m calling the cops,” she wailed as I hit her again. “If you don’t leave right now, I’m calling nine one one!”

  “Hey, hey, calm down, you’re gonna get arrested,” Joe said from behind me and grabbed my arms. Peony wiggled free and jumped back, tears and bloody snot sliding down her face.

  “Give me the ring,” I demanded and held out my hand. She shook her head and sniffled, holding her hand close to her protectively.

  “It’s mine and if you don’t leave right now I’m having you charged for assault,” Peony cried out.

  “Let it go,” Joe said and tried to calm my anger. “I’m sorry, but these two have been together for years. You’re a pretty girl, but everybody knows Aaron and Peony are getting married.”

  His voice was soothing but his words cut me like a knife. I felt my heart clench as I realized he was right and I’d been played for a fool once again.

  I wanted to fight her, I wanted it to be a lie, but I had to accept the facts as I’d seen them laid out. I stiffened my back and walked back down the stairs. At least I could maintain a shred of dignity in the face of such betrayal.

  “Where to now?” Joe asked and helped me climb back into the car. “It doesn’t sound like you’re welcome here, not with that girl hanging around.”

  “No, I’m not,” I replied in a quiet voice. “I guess I need somewhere to spend the night before I fly out in the morning.”

  “I’ll take you to town and pick you up first thing,” he said, “no charge, okay?”

  “Let me pay you,” I replied with a smile. “I have the money, that’s not a problem.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, they’ve been together forever,” he said with a heavy sigh, pulling down the long driveway onto the main road. “I know it stings now, but there’s a lot of history you can’t compete with.”

  “Thanks,” I replied ruefully, staring out the window as he drove and chattered away again, but this time, I didn’t have the heart to reply.

  I got settled into the motel room, rebooked my tickets online, rescheduled the car to pick me up at the airport, turned my phone off so I could forget the rest of the world existed, and went to sleep the moment my head hit the pillow.

  The only thing that woke me was the Joe banging on the door first thing in the morning, true to his word. I made the flight, the trip was uneventful, and I took the car service to pick up Tiger the moment I landed in LA.

  By the time I was home, I remembered why I loved my city so much.

  It was so easy to numb a broken heart in a place where nobody knew you.

  It was so easy to get lost in the crowd and forget who you were and how you loved a man with incredible eyes, huge muscles, a glorious beard, and a liar’s heart.

  22

  AARON

  I felt like a steaming pile of donkey shit leaving the airport like that, but Reagan’s words had done something to me. Something deep and hurtful, but it had also exposed the truth.

  She was a rich girl used to a ritzy, urban lifestyle, and I was a man with barely a pot to piss in.

  The texts I’d gotten in the airport had been from Reg, our mill foreman. There was an issue with one of the bigger band saws at the mill and I’d spent an hour ignoring him while I’d mooned over Reagan.

  I couldn’t expect to take care of my princess if I shirked my duties at work. I had been so engulfed in my anger at Axel’s stupidity that I’d forgotten one important fact: the financial health and success of my sawmill was up to me, and me alone.

  It had felt easier to blame my brother when in fact I’d been the one not taking responsibility for the running of the business, day in and day out.

  It was up to me to make it work, and that started with answering frantic texts from my workers letting me know one small piece of equipment was potentially shutting down production and losing the company hundreds of thousands of dollars every day it didn’t work.

  I drove straight to the mill, only stopping to try and catch a glimpse of her plane in the air before I carried on. I texted her a picture, letting her know I was thinking of her always.

  There wasn’t a moment she wasn’t in my head, dominating my thoughts. With each breath, each movement, each second passing, she was there.

  I had never felt like this before, and I’d always hated sappy shit like love cards, songs, romantic movies. They were all useless in my previous thoughts…but now, that little city girl had transformed my anti-romance viewpoint into something almost comical.

  I could have sworn little bluebirds were flitting around me as I brooded about her, missing her with every part of my being, heart and soul…from here to the horizon and beyond, my world was a parched place without her in it.

  I pulled into the sawmill, parked in my spot near the front entrance, and was immediately surrounded by my managers, all of them trying to talk to me at once.

  They led me to the machine that needed work, and it took a while, but we nailed down what the issue was. I’d been raised in this mill and knew every piece of equipment like the back of my own hand. Sometimes she could be a stubborn, secretive bitch, but I always managed to hunt down what ailed her.

  We called a metal fabricator to work on the broken part, and I took a moment to check my phone for news from Reagan. I figured she’d at least would have landed by then, since it was about a five hour flight.

  But there was nothing from her, and the last message I’d sent hadn’t been viewed.

  I shot her off another quick one while the guy worked on the machine, then tucked my phone away. She must have been stuck at baggage claim or something, I was sure there was a
logical reason for her not replying. I wouldn’t let myself get worked up.

  We worked well into the night but finally got the saw working. The cheering along the board line was enough reward for me. Every time something interrupted production, my workers got nervous. I was one of the only real source of jobs in town, and we somehow kept over a hundred of them in full time, good paying jobs.

  It was a lot of responsibility.

  And that’s when it hit me—Reagan didn’t fully know what the hell it was that I did. That must have sparked a lot of her problems, the fact that she probably thought I was reluctant to give up chopping trees for a living.

  I checked my phone to see she still hadn’t read anything, so I took a short video of the mill, myself in the center of the frame, and let her know that was where I worked.

  I hesitated though, I didn’t want her to think I was pressuring her or anything, so I deleted it. She’d have to see it in person, it was more impressive that way.

  I drove home after midnight and ached to have her in my bed again. I physically hurt to know she wasn’t going to be there when I got in. I felt her absence in the pit of my stomach and in the back of my head. It was a dull thud that persisted just enough to remind me constantly that I was without my princess.

  I unlocked my front door and found the living room and dining room lit up with more candles than I thought I had. The table was set for two, and a bottle of wine stood unopened in the centre of it.

  My heart began to flip-flop, Reagan must have decided to stay, and that explained why she hadn’t responded to my messaged.

  I bent down, a grin on my face, unlaced my boots, pulled them off, and called her name.

  I didn’t hear a response, so I continued to strip off my clothes as I bounded up the stairs to my bedroom. I wouldn’t have to sleep alone after all, and I couldn’t wait to feel her in my arms again.

  I threw open the door and saw her sleeping form under the covers, her back to me. I shut it again and crept to the bed under the guise of darkness, pulled back the covers, and sought her body in the bed.

  I found her naked flesh, hot and ready, and I ran my hands down her side, kissed her neck…and immediately knew it was all wrong.

  She didn’t feel like Reagan, she didn’t smell like Reagan, and her hair was too thin and too frizzy.

  I bolted back as if burned and hit the light on the nightstand next to the bed.

  Peony sat up with a sleepy smile and said, “Hey babe, I thought you’d never come home.”

  “What the fuck!” I roared, jumping out of the bed and dragging my comforter with me to cover myself. I didn’t even want to be naked in front of my ex any more, not now that I belonged to Reagan and she belonged to me.

  “What do you mean? I saw how you were looking at me in the pub, I got the message, baby,” she replied languidly, stretching out, the top sheet falling off her and exposing her body.

  I looked away in disgust. “You need to get the fuck out. And you need to get out now.”

  “Come on, I found the ring you bought. Did you really think that city girl was going to accept it? Seriously, it’s obvious she rejected you, or else why would it be in the box in your drawer?” She held out her hand and wiggled her fingers triumphantly.

  Still not turning to look at her, I growled, “It belongs to the studio, I’m buying her a ring of her own. Get dressed, take that ring off, and get the fuck out of my house.”

  “You would have asked for your key back if you meant it when you broke up with me,” Peony whined, and I fought the urge to grab her arm and drag her out of my sight.

  My parents hadn’t raised a man who would hit a woman, though, so I pulled the comforter close and told her, “Leave my ring and my keys on the table when you leave. And if you aren’t gone in ten minutes, I will be calling the sheriff. You wouldn’t want that little bit of gossip going around town, would you?”

  I picked up my clothes as I stormed out of my room, my disappointment and anger almost palpable. When I was fully dressed, I folded the comforter and draped it over a chair in the living room. I cleared the table and threw out the bottle of wine. I wanted nothing to do with Peony, not a single trace of her left in my house.

  I heard her creeping down the stairs quietly, so I turned to look at her.

  She’d gotten dressed and glowered at me. She slammed the ring and my keys on the table and stood with her feet spread and her hands on her hips.

  “You’re going to regret this,” she said defiantly. “You’ll regret losing me when you’re old and alone and nobody wants to suck your dick without being paid.” Her nose looked swollen and stuffed up, as if she’d been crying. I wondered for a moment if it seemed red in the candlelight or if I was just imagining it now that I saw Peony for who she really was, not the girl for me.

  “If that happens, the one thing I won’t regret is kicking you out for the second time,” I replied with an even tone. “If you ever talk to me or Reagan again, I will get a restraining order put against you. Now get the hell out of here.”

  “I didn’t bring my car, I got dropped off,” she wailed, seeming unwilling to leave.

  “I’ll call Joe at the taxi and have him come get you,” I replied. “But you can wait on the porch.”

  “Okay,” she groaned, “fine, my car is parked just off your driveway. You win.” Peony spat with fire in her eyes. “But you will regret this, Aaron, mark my words.”

  “Don’t count on it, and each time I make love to my bride, Reagan, I’ll forget a little more of you until nothing is left but the unpleasant sliver of who you really are.”

  Her face broadened in an evil grin, and she said, “Good luck with that!”

  “What?” I asked, and she just laughed as she pulled her shoes on. “What did you do, Peony?”

  “Fuck you,” she replied, flipped me the double bird, and stomped out my front door and hopefully out of my life for good.

  But I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell she meant.

  * * *

  By the second day, I came to the conclusion that Reagan had dumped me unceremoniously and carelessly.

  Not a single message had been read, not a single call had been answered, and there was complete radio silence from her end.

  I even checked the news to see if her flight had gone down, but nothing indicated that there had been any trouble.

  I guessed I was just a fling for a rich girl from LA after all, and even though she’d been behind the cameras, she’d been just as shallow and had put on a performance worthy of the most seasoned actress.

  Finally, out of desperation, I sent Melanie a message on Facebook. She had to contact me to handle press interviews and any talk show bookings we might need to make to promote the show, but she was also apparently icing me out, because my message went unread.

  I felt like I was screaming into a fucking wind storm, and I didn’t like it. I didn’t like the hurt it created, the constant stabbing pain in my heart and soul that I carried because of it.

  On the fourth night, I needed to do something, so I drove into town to play some pool and get some beers with the guys.

  One thing led to another, and I got blindingly, stink-eyed drunk. So drunk I almost pissed on my shoe instead of in the urinal at one point.

  Yeah, that drunk. Don’t judge me, I had to dull the constant pain I was enduring without Regan, and it was the weekend, so I didn’t have to go to the mill and fake having my shit together in front of the guys.

  I staggered out the door at the end of the night, my truck keys in my hand and my head swaying along with my body.

  I almost made it to the truck, but fate intervened, and I stumbled, dropping my keys and landing on my hands and knees in the middle of the street.

  Joe’s taxi almost ran me down, but he screeched to a halt and rolled down his window.

  “Goddamn it, Aaron, get up. You can’t drive like that, get in and I’ll take you home.”

  “I need my truck,” I slurred my words, trying
to focus on the taxi in the bright glare of his headlights. The pavement was cold to my touch, and I almost felt like pressing my cheek against it and having a nice nap.

  “Get in, dammit, I don’t want to drag my fat ass out there and pull you into the back. If you get up, you can sit in the front, and I’ll even throw in a round trip in the morning.”

  I grumbled and protested, but logical Aaron was still in there somewhere. I couldn’t win Reagan back if I was dead in a car accident trying to get my drunk ass home. Besides, what if I hurt somebody else in my intoxicated state?

  So I somehow staggered to my feet and made it to the van. Joe got the door open for me, and I slumped in the passenger seat. “Thanks Joe, this means a lot to me.”

  “It’s the least I could do. Were you out celebrating your engagement?” he asked, putting it in drive and turning around to take the road out to my place.

  “Engagement? That was supposed to be on the show’s finale, we weren’t allowed to tell people yet, not until it airs,” I murmured, my eyes half closed. The van was hot, too hot, and I felt sleepy.

  “Peony was on the show with you?” Joe asked with a startled voice. “I didn’t know that.”

  “Not Peony, Reagan,” I said, “you’re mixing them up.”

  “No I’m not, I drove Reagan to your place four days ago, Peony showed her the ring, and broke up one hell of a cat fight before I drove Reagan back to town,” he said, “there’s no way I mixed them up, Reagan’s the one with the wicked left hook and Peony’s the one with the bloody nose.”

  It took a moment or two for his words to penetrate my drunken fog, but when they did, it was like an explosion went off in my head and sobered it immediately. I sat bolt upright to look at him wildly. “Wait, what?”

  “You know, Reagan…the girl from the show…” he spoke to me like I was slow child.

  “No, I know her, dammit. She’s my fiancé, or at least she was,” I said. “But you said she met Peony at my place?”

  “Yeah, she seemed pretty upset, but had gotten over it by the time I took her to the plane in the morning. She was ice cold.”