Reno

I didn't consider myself a particularly good person. Most of the guys who came to the ranch weren't what you'd call good people; otherwise, they wouldn't have been here in the first place. Still, I didn't consider myself a terrible person either. I deserved to be here. There was no question about that.

"So," he began again. "Do you think cows have thoughts? Like actual thoughts. Not the kind that, like…can solve math or whatever, but just…are they aware, can they think? Do they dream?"

But what in the fresh hell had I done to deserve to be stuck in this hell?

"How about it?" he continued, turning to the cow in question. "Do you have thoughts? Or is there absolutely nothing behind your giant, adorable brown eyes?"

A week, an entire week of his relentless conversation, stupid ass questions, and the unending flow of commentary about fuck all. How could anyone stand to be around him for more than ten minutes at a time? I'd been stuck with him from sunup to sundown for a week. I honestly didn't know what I'd done in a previous life or if I had somehow managed to piss Leon off, but I would do whatever it took to make sure this didn't happen again.

"This is always my favorite duty," Elliot continued, now stroking the cow as if it were his long-lost pet. "There's just something so sweet about them."

"Hasn't stopped you from eating them at breakfast, lunch, and dinner," I grumbled, hoping grim reality would make him stop for at least a few minutes.

"Naw, I haven't eaten beef in a while," he said brightly…which is how he tended to say most things when he was rambling incessantly.

He reminded me of the new guy, Riley, a bundle of sunshine wrapped in some dopey package. I hadn't interacted much with Riley. I knew better than to seek out someone that perky. It was bound to get on my nerves. Still, at least he seemed to know when to shut the fuck up from what little I'd seen of him. Probably didn't hurt that they'd given him to Max, of all people, who was even less of a people person than I was, which was pretty impressive. Yet it seemed that both of them were unfailingly happy people, and when Elliot was happy, Elliot didn't shut up.

"Good for you," I said between clenched teeth as I continued to clean up the remaining cow pies littering the pen. It was fitting, given the entire week, that I was also forced to work half a day on Sunday with him. The ranch rotated people through half days, split between the first and second half of the day, while the rest had Sundays off. It seemed like an unnecessary kick in the teeth to have to work with him an extra half a day.

At least after we were done here, I had the rest of the day to be as far away from him as possible. I knew full well he would probably seek out that Dom guy and ride his ass for the rest of the day. Maybe that would give me a moment of peace to think and figure out if there was a way to ensure I never ended up paired with Elliot again.

"Well, at least I think I've been avoiding it," he said, making me sigh heavily and wonder if he could go at least two minutes without talking. "I mean, bacon is pig, so are pork chops, obviously. Pigs are pretty cute, but man, if I keep thinking everything is cute, I'm going to run out of food to eat."

"Try going vegan," I offered with a roll of my eyes.

"Mmm, no, that's too much. I like veggies, don't get me wrong, but living off it all the time? Nah."

"That's vegetarian."

"Right, but vegans get weird about milk and honey. I mean, you can argue about milk, I guess, but honey? Fuck man, I can't imagine making bees do anything they don't wanna do. Pretty sure bees would fuck off or sting the shit out of you if you pissed them off…that's, like, their whole thing."

"Why the fuck are we talking about bees?" I wondered aloud and immediately regretted it when he snorted.

"Because you brought up veganism, duh," he said with a shake of his head as if I was the ridiculous one.

"We could just stop bringing things up at all. That would be great," I muttered, trying to keep my temper under control. My temper was a big part of the reason I'd ended up here in the first place, and I didn't need it to get in the way of successfully getting out of the program and not being sent back to prison to finish my sentence. If I had to work on my temper for another year, maybe two, or go back and serve three times that in prison, it was an easy pick…in theory, anyway, controlling my temper was easier said than done.

You only needed to check with my ex-boyfriend and his best friend to get the details.

It wasn't until I heard giggling that I realized I had actually been granted a momentary reprieve from his talking. I stopped raking to close my eyes and remember…well, I was supposed to think of taking my angry emotions and letting them ‘flow out into the universe where they could hurt no one,' but I knew no amount of fake cosmic imaginings would spare me from whatever annoyance I would see.

However, there was no point in putting it off, so with a weary irritation already building, I turned to see what he was doing…and stared. I had no way of knowing precisely how he'd managed it, but he was pinned up against the fence, with two cows practically melding into his being. One of them had his shirt in its mouth as it nuzzled him, chewing on it messily while the other writhed its head around on his chest, tongue determinedly slapping toward his face.

"C'mon, don't do that," I grumbled, moving over to shoo the animals away. "You're going to break something on him, and then I'm?—"

"They're fine," he said with a laugh, pushing half-heartedly against one of the beasts. "They're just being sweet."

"They're five times our weight, you idiot," I grumbled, continuing to try to move the cows on. "And if you get hurt, it's my ass on the line."

"I said they're fine," he snapped with a sudden fierceness that caught me off guard. "Jesus, can't you let anyone enjoy themselves, or do you get off on ruining everyone's good time?"

"Or I guess I could just let you get hurt. What the fuck do I care?" I growled back at him. "And then you can tell Leon?—"

"That I got myself hurt, and you tried to make me stop. Fucking hell, I'm not some kid who's going to go running to Daddy that big brother got me hurt," he grumbled.

"Then quit acting like a kid so I can fucking have the rest of the day," I told him.

He rolled his eyes, a storm cloud still billowing on his face as he carefully but firmly pushed the cows away. "I know you're not trying to win any popularity contests, Reno, but you could be less of a dick."

"And you could be less of a little kid."

"Oh fuck off, because your bad temper is so mature."

"I didn't fucking say it was."

"Then quit acting like it is!"

"Quit acting like you're five!"

"Oh, shovel the shit and leave me alone, you grouchy dick."

There was something almost…well, cathartic to have him get pissy with me. Anger had never been a self-feeding emotion in my case, but there was something gratifying about it all the same. At least now I knew the fucker had more emotions than goofy, happy, chatty, and annoying. Maybe now I could get some blessed peace for the next leg of work. My only regret was that I hadn't thought to piss him off sooner.

A new problem developed when, after we'd finished the work in silence, I felt a tug in my chest when I watched him march toward the barn, head down. It wasn't like I'd been trying to make him feel like shit, but damn, couldn't a guy get some peace and quiet? If there was one thing I treasured, it was quiet. Between growing up with noise and chaos and then ending up in prison, peace was something I didn't get too often.

Worse yet, I felt compelled to apologize to the guy. On the list of things I wasn't good at, that was second only to controlling my temper. Apologies weren't offered up often in my family, and you were always looking for the catch that came when one was given. After a while, you learned not to offer them and didn't expect them. Hell, you outright feared them.

"What…are you doing?" I asked when I saw him rummaging through the small supply closet.

He turned, giving me a disbelieving look, then looked down at himself. I followed his gaze and shrugged, yeah, he was covered in mud and shit, that's what came with cleaning…well, animal shit.

Elliot rolled his eyes. "I'm using the barn shower. No way in hell am I going to go walking in this heat, smelling like shit and sweat."

"We aren't that covered," I said, looking down at myself. "I mean, the gear caught most of it."

"And some still got on my skin and all over," he said, squinting at me. "And you've got some in your hair. So, maybe you should strip down."

"Strip down?"

"I'm sorry, but did you get shy in prison?"

"I got…wary," I admitted with a grimace. Only to feel alarmed when his smile faltered, and I saw something way too close to pity on his face. "Don't even fucking look at me like that. I'm not afraid. Fuck."

He drew back for a moment and then laughed. "Well, then go ahead and join me."

"What?"

"Dude," he said, taking off the waders after pulling off his boots to begin hosing them off. "I don't care if you have the finest ass on this whole ass ranch-ha, ass ranch. I'm not going to jump you, hit on you, or what the fuck ever."

"I wasn't thinking that," I said with a roll of my eyes, doing the same as him, draping everything rubber over the nearby fence and taking a hose to it. Admittedly, I had wondered if he would say something stupid, which was exceptionally on-brand for Elliot.

"Good," Elliot said with a chuckle. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it onto a nearby shelf. "Got shit on that too, so I guess I need to change anyway."

"It's shit. It gets everywhere," I told him, glancing as he stretched to grab something off a shelf in the supply closet.

I wouldn't tell him or anyone on this ranch, but he was actually cute…when he was quiet. I didn't know what he'd looked like before coming to the ranch, but now he was built pretty solidly, but that came from the fact that I'd witnessed that he could work as hard as he could talk, which was an impressive feat. There were tattoos, mostly swirling, sharp symbols etched along his arms and chest, and a patch of hair so light you wouldn't notice until the sunlight caught it and made it shimmer.

Fuck, here I was making him think I was worried he was going to ogle me, and I was eye fucking him. It had been way too long since I got laid if I was going to start mentally undressing Elliot, of all fucking people. Yeah, the guy probably looked great with a dick in his mouth, and I knew he wasn't hiding the fact that he liked dicks but?—

"Alright," he said, and I raised a brow as he shucked off his pants, leaving him in a pair of?—

"Is…that a fucking jockstrap?" I asked in shock as I first stared and then immediately pulled my eyes away from the pale curve of his ass, jutting toward me. "Where the fuck did you even get that?"

"You know, there's a whole delivery system in place at the ‘shop' they have here. I mean, they check what you're ordering to make sure it's within the rules, and I guess jockstraps are," he said with a shrug, taking his clean jeans toward the fence line just outside the barn. There were a few open-air stalls there, each fixed with a shower head in case…well, you ended up covered in shit.

"And that's what you ordered with your limited budget?" I asked with a shake of my head.

Admittedly, money was only limited because the ranch had its own program for that as well. Sure, much like prison, they gave us a limited wage while ensuring we put in plenty of work, but it was different. For one, it wasn't as small as we'd have earned behind bars, and a certain percentage was put into a separate account for us. Apparently, if we made it through the program, whatever was in that account was given to us. If we managed to fuck up royally and fail out back to prison, it was donated to outreach programs or something, probably for kids to make sure they didn't end up like us.

"Look, with all the moving, lifting, and running we do," he said, stepping out of sight as I finished what I was doing and grabbed a towel. It wouldn't exactly hurt me to get the flecks of shit washed off, and eventually, my nose blindness was going to wear off. "These things are insanely comfortable."

"You just like having your ass hang out," I grumbled, only to find he'd stepped into one of the stalls, his underwear dangling over the door. With him busy, I stepped into the furthest stall and began undressing. As awkward as the whole thing felt, I wouldn't wash in my underwear like some bashful kid.

"I wear jeans most of the time, Reno," he said with a laugh, and I heard water running. "Which means my ass is covered but only by a layer of denim instead of denim and thick cotton. The amount of sweating that I don't do is a lot. And! My boys are held nicely, so no sticking to my thighs."

Lukewarm water ran from the tap as I turned it on, but even that felt better than standing in the blistering sun. The water in the cabins might be temperature-controlled, but they didn't bother with anything like that for these showers. There was a bar of soap, but it looked like someone hadn't bothered with shampoo, so the bar would have to do for both, it wasn't like I was picky.

"What, no thigh chafing?" I asked as I rubbed vigorously at my hair to get every last flake of shit out.

"You know, it's funny. When I first got here, I didn't have to worry about that. But after being here for a bit, I think I might have to give up these fantastic straps for something with a bit more thigh coverage," he said, almost sounding aggrieved.

"You poor thing. You'll have to wear underwear like normal people."

"Normal people wear jockstraps!"

"Jocks wear jockstraps. It's in the name."

He let out a laugh again, and I heard the creak of the stall door. "That's only what they call them. But I wouldn't exactly expect you to hang out with other people who do."

I grabbed the towel after turning off the water, getting as dry as possible to pull on my clothes. "What other people?"

He snickered. "Gay guys have a thing for jockstraps."

"Seriously?" I asked with a sigh, stepping out and rolling my eyes when I found him once again, standing around in his underwear. If it weren't for the fact that he was easily the most oblivious moron on the planet, I'd believe he knew I was fighting a losing battle not to eye his ass. Why did the guy have to have a nice ass on top of a cute face and a toned body?

"Seriously," he said, pulling up his pants and looking them over. "I think that's mud…it's mud, right?"

"We are not walking back with you in your fucking gay underwear."

"You straight boys are so squeamish. If you've got a nice ass, which, fuck yeah, I'm getting one finally, then it's a good thing to frame it."

"Frame it?"

"Yeah, you know, like a gorgeous picture, a beautiful painting."

"Your ass is…not one of those things."

"Not one of those things yet," he said with a wink. "Give me a few more months here, and I'm going to look better than if I'd devoted time to the gym. I would never have thought I'd praise manual labor, but here I am. Almost makes me wish I'd lived in the days when this sort of work was common."

It did present a nice picture for the horniest of minds, but no way in hell was I going to admit that to him. I was going to pretend he hadn't given me an impromptu strip show and try to rinse the entire memory from my mind. Then, when I took a real shower later and had a moment of privacy, I would think of just about anyone but him and jerk one out so the memory wasn't tempted to tiptoe its way back.

Before I could reply, I turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. Leon was making his way along the path toward us, stopping only for a moment before shaking his head and continuing. He glanced from me to Elliot. "Really?"

"Don't fucking look at me, man," I said. "I already told him he wasn't walking back half nude. He's the one who's decided to linger in his underwear."

"I was air-drying a bit!" Elliot complained. "This air is horrible for skin, do you know that? I'm starting to feel like a lizard."

"Just use lotion like normal people," I told him without looking.

"Do you get this weird when guys leave the shower in your cabin?" Elliot asked with a huff, but I could hear the rustle of fabric telling me he was finally putting some clothes on.

"They don't feel the need to parade themselves around like they're trying to show something off," I said with a sigh, shooting a pleading gaze at Leon. To my horror, he looked like he was enjoying himself. Not because of Elliot's underwear but because of my discomfort. Wasn't he supposed to try to help me when I was uncomfortable?

"Parading," Elliot repeated in a scathing tone. "I'm not parading anything. But whatever, I have clothes on."

"You're missing a shirt," Leon pointed out in an amused tone.

"Probably because my shirt has shit on it, and I'm not going around smelling like a manure pile," Elliot shot back.

"It's almost like you're on an animal farm where you're expected to deal with the things animals do…like shit," I said with a sigh.

"Whatever," Leon said with a shake of his head, still sounding amused. "In any case, go get a shirt on, Elliot. The rest of the day's yours."

"Awesome," Elliot said, his eyes glittering with excitement I could only wonder at. What the hell was it like to go through life with so much enthusiasm about…well, everything? And how the hell had his mood changed in half an hour? It felt like he'd been inches away from getting into a fight with me, but now he was fine. "What's on the agenda for everyone?"

"Seems everyone is getting ready for a bit of wrestling," Leon said with a shrug. "They wanted to do boxing, but let's just say our liability insurance won't cover bare-knuckle boxing."

"Oil wrestling?" Elliot asked.

"No."

"We could make do. I know the clinic keeps a supply of lube for different procedures and?—"

"And why do you know that?" I demanded.

His eyes widened, looking toward Leon, then darting away skittishly. "Err, it's just what doctor's places have, ya know? I remember going to the doc and finding weird stuff all the time in drawers, and lube was in there."

"And I'll pretend I believe that explanation and not have to do an impromptu search of your cabin," Leon said with a sigh. "Honestly, Elliot, your mouth gets there before your brain."

"Long before," I snarked, also pretending that that didn't summon up images my already tempted brain wanted to play with. Yeah, I was definitely going to take care of myself when I had a private moment later. Probably for the best. I knew the longer I went, the hornier and more pent up I got, and the more that happened, the more aggressive and less patient I got.

"Wait, that makes it sound like lube is contraband!" Elliot protested.

"It isn't…unless you stole it from the clinic," Leon told him in a deadpan voice.

"Ah, well…good thing that isn't the case."

"Yes, a good thing. Reno?"

"Oh fuck, what? Is this where you tell me you're sticking me with him for another week?" I groaned.

"Oh, fuck you! Dick," Elliot huffed.

Leon arched a brow, going quiet for a moment before shrugging. "You've got a phone call, so you'd better take that before you do…whatever you planned."

"Oh…who is it?" I asked.

"Your sister, apparently."

"That…doesn't narrow it down, but fine," I said with a shrug. "I'll go."

"Alright, good. You two enjoy the rest of your day," Leon said with a smile. "As for rosters…we'll see how I feel tonight."

"Maybe you can find someone who isn't going to find him annoying?" I offered, knowing full well the chances of that were?—

Elliot let out a bark of laughter. "It's going to be Dom, Riley, or Leon in that case. No one else can fucking stand me."

I glanced at him in surprise, raising a brow but saying nothing. It was the first time I'd heard him say anything negative about himself. People didn't surprise me often, so I didn't expect much from them. Generally, you could expect precisely what people showed you, whatever they said otherwise was easy to ignore. People, by their very nature, liked to hide shit that wasn't all that nice from others and themselves.

It was the first time I'd ever heard him say anything about himself that wasn't casual, let alone downright mean. Was he that aware of his effect on other people? Did he simply not care? And if he didn't, why had there been a tightness in his voice that had disappeared by the time he'd finished, replaced with that same enthusiastic, chipper voice he always used?

"Probably shouldn't talk shit about yourself when there are plenty of other people to do that for you," I told him.

"People like you?" he offered with a grin.

"Yeah," I said, unable to help my smirk.

"Interesting," Leon said, taking a step back.

"What?" Elliot asked, looking at him.

"Nothing, you two carry on," he said with a wave.

"Are we going to pretend like we believe him?" Elliot asked me, cocking his head like a confused puppy.

"I'd have to pretend to care what that was about first," I grunted, shrugging.

"Huh, what's that like?"

"What?"

"Not giving a shit."

"Pretty nice."

"Yeah, sounds pretty nice," he said, staring off into space momentarily before shaking himself. "Anyway, I'm going to head out. Maybe I'll see you later. Hope the phone call is a good one."

I watched him go, distracted from my anger and pent-up…feelings. For a moment, it sounded like he genuinely wished me well on the phone. I had done nothing to invite anything genuine or heartfelt out of him, so why was he suddenly giving a shit about my phone call?

Just like he'd shaken off whatever weird thought had entered his equally weird brain, I pushed away that curiosity and made my way toward the center of the ranch. When I reached it, I found a collection of guys in one of the bare patches where there were typically tables set up for guys to idle or have their lunches. They seemed to be in an intense debate, probably about the matchups, and I wondered if I should join them after the call or if that was even a good idea.

I passed them and the clinic, entering the ranch"s little ‘shop.' Much like in prison, we could use the funds we had in our non-savings account to buy snacks, certain clothes, and even cigarettes. The prices weren't terrible, but I didn't go out of my way to buy anything extra except for the occasional gummy snack.

It also happened to be where we could use the phone. Despite the sheer size of my family, I didn't talk to them much, so I didn't come in here often. Some of the guys came in every other day, and some didn't at all.

"I have a call, I guess?" I told the guy behind the counter.

He didn't bother to look up from his book. "Reno?"

"That's me."

"Booth three."

"Right."

I entered the door into a narrow hallway with four half-glass doors. Honestly, I didn't see the point of the glass since I knew the phone calls were all recorded anyway. We might not be prisoners in the same way as before, and this was better than we had behind bars, but we were still prisoners all the same. Sometimes, I wondered if the others realized that or if they deluded themselves into thinking they were almost free.

I picked up the phone in the cramped room and dropped into the fragile, plastic chair. "Hello?"

"Hey, Reno," came the unsurprising voice of my younger sister, Mara. Other than my grandmother, she was the only person who bothered to call while I was here or to come see me when I'd been in prison.

"Mar, wasn't expecting to hear from you for another couple of weeks," I said, feeling a sliver of unease run through me. "Aren't you working doubles?"

"They'd work me triples if they could. Whole fucking ward is understaffed," she grumbled. "But…that's not why I'm calling."

The unease grew to worry. "What is it? Christ, don't tell me Flint is on a bender again."

"Bender? Babe, he's been drowning himself in whatever he can for weeks now."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because he's disappeared. Only shows up when he wants something, and he doesn't come to me after I called the cops last time."

"Pretty sure you threatening him with a baseball bat did it."

"That too. Point is, if he's not here causing problems, then he's not a problem. And you've got enough to worry about without worrying about our brother being…well, our brother. He's not going to change."

That was true of most of our family. My parents had managed to have five kids, and so far, only Mara had turned out to be worth a damn. Our oldest brother kept hopping from one fix to the next, stealing, robbing, and hurting anyone in his way. Our oldest sister was a drunk as well as a violent bitch, she had kids of her own, and sometimes it was tough not to think too hard about how she was just doing to them what had been done to us. Our youngest brother had got caught up in some gang and landed himself in prison and wasn't going to see freedom for another thirteen years. Then there was me, also in prison, but compared to the rest, I was practically golden.

"Yeah, well," I said, even though there was nothing I could say as a good comeback. Our family wasn't going to change, our siblings were disasters and were always going to be, and our parents were always going to be the drinking, crack-smoking users they'd always been. "You called for a reason, and you sound…weird."

She let out a heavy sigh, full of weariness and something else heavy…thick. "It's…Grandma T."

I winced. "Shit, is her blood pressure bad again? You and I told her she needs to watch it or?—"

"She's gone," came the flat interruption.

I didn't know how long it lasted, but it felt like her words were suspended above me, sharp and brutal. A fuzziness coated my thoughts as I stared at the scratched surface of the small table, trying to reach out and make sense of the sentence but too scared at its razor-sharp edges.

"What?" I asked, my voice empty and lifeless.

"It was a stroke," she said softly. "Well, more than one, from what I've been told."

"What…I…she?—"

"It happened the other night. I'm sorry I didn't call sooner, but I'm the only one here to take care of this without making it a disaster," she said.

"But…God, she was alone."

"It happened in her sleep. By all accounts, she probably didn't know what happened. Just laid down to sleep and?—"

My grip tightened on the phone. "You and I both know people only say that shit to make people feel better. You're a fucking nurse, Mara, how many times have you told people that?"

"More times than I can count," she said with a heavy sigh.

"Fuck, and here I am, in this fucking place," I said, closing my eyes as the fuzziness became razor blades cutting away at me. The pain had nowhere to go, so it began burrowing deep.

"And if anyone would want you to continue to be there, to do what that place wants you to do, it would be her," she told me softly.

"Fuck, everyone else is going to give you so much shit," I said. My grandmother didn't have much, but what little she did have would be picked apart and sold by whoever won the fights over every knick-knack and item of seeming value. My grandmother's few prized possessions would be fought over like a fresh kill and sold for pennies on the dollar. They might pretend like they wanted this or that for sentimental reasons, but my family didn't know sentiment from a rock on the side of the road.

"Ha! You don't think Grandma T's big heart made her stupid, do you?" Mara asked with a humorless laugh. "She had a will, believe it or not. And wanna guess who's executor?"

"That means you're in charge?"

"I am now."

"What? But?—"

"It was you, Reno. You were the original one. But after that whole thing with Liam and Ryan…well, I guess she didn't know if you'd be free by the time she…well, she changed it to me."

Great, so not only was one of only two good members of my family dead, but I had failed to be a decent person for long enough to be trusted with what she left behind. No, I let my temper get the better of me, and instead of letting the law take care of things, I lost my mind and landed in prison. This was the first time I ever truly regretted what I'd done that day, and all because I failed my grandmother.

"I wish this hadn't happened now," she said. "I wanted…I wanted more time. I wanted her to see you…but I had to tell you. And I wanted you to know that I'm taking care of things. I'm staying at her place, and I've got Will staying here when I'm not, and his brother stays when neither of us can."

"That's good, at least," I said with a heavy sigh. Her husband and his brother were good guys, one an EMT and the other a firefighter, so they could hold their own if my family tried anything.

"But I'm being paged, so I have to go. I love you," Mara said in a low voice.

"Love you too," I muttered, hanging up the phone only to stare at it.

I felt robotic as I pushed upright and walked out. If the guy behind the counter said anything, I didn't hear it as I stepped out into the heat. Everything felt hazy as I stood there, peering around but not seeing anything, not comprehending. I barely noticed the sun burning my skin as I stood there in the windless open, giving it little attention as I tried to make sense of everything that had just happened.

Grandma T…dead? Fuck, she had been the only person to believe in me when I was younger. Even when I kept getting into trouble, she had always talked me down and tried to make me realize I could do better, that I could be better. Even when I'd been arrested for the final time, she had still talked to me whenever she could, sending me letters and visiting.

And this place…when I was given the offer, she had been so excited. In her mind, it was the perfect opportunity for me to take what had happened and turn it into something good. It was my chance to turn my life around and do something that didn't involve barely scraping by and not getting into serious trouble. Both her and Mara had pushed me to accept, to see if this place could finally be where my life took a turn for the better. I had done it to make them proud, and now she was gone and would never get to see it.

Shouts and heckling pulled my attention to the crowd I'd passed earlier. The number of guys had grown and formed a circle in the clearing, all looking excited. Something in my mind pushed through the fog, and curiosity made me walk over as a round of wrestling ended. Maybe that was what I needed, to drown myself in something so I could forget what had just happened for a moment.

"Hey, look who showed up," someone called. "You're up next, Reno."

"What?" I asked, senses clearing. "What? With who?"

"Hmmm, hey, new boy!"

"Uh…yeah? Me?"

"You're the new one, so?—"

A face peered out of the crowd and I wasn't surprised to see it was Riley. He looked me over, showing no apprehension or concern, just curiosity. After a moment, he smiled and shrugged. "Sure, why not? I could do with a workout."

A workout? I mean, fuck, I knew the guy had landed himself in prison just like the rest of us, but…I doubted it was for anything dangerous. He seemed like the kind of idiot who'd probably fallen into a money laundering scheme or some other stupid white-collar choice. The guy was full of so much optimism and happiness. What the fuck had he possibly gone through? He had every right to be worried about going toe to toe with me, even in a casual wrestling match.

"Fine," I all but spat, stepping through the crowd into the ring. "Call it."

My patience was a thin, fragile wire, but I didn't have to wait long before the match began. I wasn't going to waste any time, the new guy was enjoying this far too much as it was, and I was going to make sure he regretted that. I wasn't going to hurt him, not too badly, but maybe I could get away with roughing him up a bit.

It didn't take long before I realized I wasn't going to get my way. Whenever I tried to get a good grip on him, he found a way to evade me. Even throwing myself into it entirely, using my full strength, he managed to stay free of my grip.

Which only made me more pissed and fight even harder. It didn't matter how pissed I got or how hard I fought, Riley was more evasive and slippery than I would have guessed. It wasn't until it was too late that I realized I was steadily wearing myself down. After all the hard work I'd done earlier, my strength was rapidly draining, but there was nothing I could do but give the last of my strength to try to bring him down.

Ultimately, I stood no chance, and the last of my strength faded, leaving me open to be pinned in the dirt. The call rang out to announce his victory, and I felt the haze inside me begin to heat again. This was supposed to be a way for me to safely lash out, to take everything inside and put it on something pointless but cathartic. Now, I was left to lie in the dirt, humiliated, spent, and with the ache inside my chest that was full of teeth and claws.

"Fuck this," I snarled, pushing myself off the ground, ignoring the offered hand from Riley.

"Hey, woah!" Riley said, holding his hands up in an obvious gesture of surrender. "It was all in good fun, right? It was a good match, something to be proud of for both of us."

Pride? What the ever-living fuck did I have to be proud of? All I'd done was constantly fuck up my life whenever it showed even a glimmer of getting better. Now, when I had the chance to feel good about something, even something as stupid as taking that ridiculous smile off his face, I was left to feel humiliated on top of the guilt, shame, and heartbreak pounding inside me.

And why? All because the absolute fucker cheated his way through the match. He hadn't once tried to meet me on even ground, resorting to wearing me down and making me look like a dumbass in the process. The pain inside became a roar, and before I knew it, I stepped forward and swung hard.

Fist connected with face, and his smile finally disappeared. In fact, all expression disappeared as he crumpled. A blur came out of nowhere, shoving me aside and catching Riley before he hit the ground. All I could do was stare at the group of guys around me, all staring with wide eyes, some with shock, some with horror, and some with anger.

My hand throbbed as I looked down at it and then back up to see Riley cradled carefully in Max's arms. It was such a surprisingly tender gesture from someone as rough and mean as Max, and it pierced through the haze. I had lost my temper completely, taken a cheap shot at someone who wasn't even trying to fight me, and might have just severely hurt someone who hadn't meant me any harm.

Oh fuck.