Chapter Eight

"Want some help?" Corey asked.

Timber set the heavy loveseat back on the ground at an angle with a grunt, huffed a breath, and wiped a flyaway strand of hair off her forehead. "You have all been helping me all day."

Corey was the mate of Ace and the cousin of Hallie, the mate of Gunner and the Second of the Crew. She was slowly learning all the ranks of the Fastlanders. Corey had held back for most of the morning and just watched her. She'd barely spoken a word, so Timber did appreciate that she was going out of her way to help now.

"Just so you know, it does get easier," Corey said, lifting the loveseat into the back of Silver's truck like it weighed nothing. "A few of us used to be human. Really, Hallie and I are new shifters, so we definitely understand that frustration you're feeling."

"Is it that obvious?" Timber asked.

"I can see it building. Look over there," she said, pointing to the little boy, Ruger, who was the son of Sloane and son-of-the-heart of Captain. "He's human. He will remain human until he is eighteen. You aren't the only one. Even some of the people camping in the woods are human, and retained that even after years of being paired with shifters."

"I don't like feeling like a weak link."

Corey snorted. "Timber, you control the green fire of a phoenix. Ain't no weak link here." She gestured to the furniture they'd piled in the back. "You can strap everything down if you want."

"Absolutely." She climbed up on the huge tire of Silver's truck and accepted the tie-down straps Corey handed her from the back seat.

"I like your style," Corey said as she watched her tie down the furniture.

"Yeah?"

"I can see what you're doing with it. You going to keep his walls white?"

"Chhh, if he installs shiplap. I can't do white walls. Makes it feel too sterile. If he needed it, I would get used to it, but I think he's just trying to keep it cold so he doesn't attach to it."

Corey had an impressed look on her face as she nodded. "You have probably figured out more about Wreck than the rest of us combined."

"Really?"

"He's a mystery to the mountains, but I saw you two this morning. He talks to you softly. He cares for you. He is open with you."

She wrenched the straps tighter, and then straightened her spine. "We are still so new."

"It's not going to work on your human timeline. Just…some advice from a former human who fell for a shifter. The man in him will call to you, the animal will grab ahold of you. There is no waiting six years to commit with shifters. They run on instinct. If the bond is there, it's there, and there is no running from it. Not for them, and not for humans. It's okay to feel overwhelmed, just so you know. Or to feel like things are moving too fast. Even relationships with us. You barely know us, but our instinct is to bring you close and teach you."

"Teach me what?"

"How to survive this life."

She didn't know how to respond. Those words felt so profound.

"Silver mentioned your parents throwing a party for your ex tonight."

"Yeah." Heat filtered into her cheeks, and she ducked her gaze.

"Don't do that," Corey said. "If they chose wrong, you should never feel embarrassed. Can I go too?"

"To his birthday party?"

"Yes."

She swallowed hard and thought on it. She really liked that Corey just said things how they were, and she liked the direct way she asked questions. "I would like that. I should warn you though, I haven't talked to them in awhile. It'll be awkward."

"For them. Let Wreck lead you. Let us be at your back. It'll be more fun than you expect." Corey smiled kindly and softened her tone. "Trust me."

And she did. As she watched Corey walking away with her head held high, with the confidence of a woman who knew her exact place at the top of the food chain, Timber did trust her.

She'd taken time away from shopping this huge garage sale to come over and talk to her, and she appreciated it more than Corey could imagine. She'd lost her friend group to the rumors Brandon had spread about her, and all that remained was her relationship with her sister. Finding friends who had no investment in her family drama was a breath of fresh air.

Truth be told, she was having so much fun. So. Much. Fun.

On a whim, she took a picture of the furniture in the back of the truck and sent it to Wreck. If you want me to go with you for supplies to rebuild your living room on your next day off, I can! Be forewarned, I will call it a date. I'm high-maintenance. Send.

The dots that said he was typing showed up immediately. A picture of a length of fence came through. Working my ass off so I can finish this job today and have a day off tomorrow. Want to have fun with you tonight.

The dragons were back in her middle. She smiled and typed out, I am kind of excited about tonight. Not because of my family, but because we get a fun night at a bar with the Fastlanders. Send. She took a quick video of the girls shopping the garage sale. Hallie was buying a Wiffle Ball set for Ruger, who was jumping up and down in excitement. Corey and Silver were knelt down, looking at the underside of a dining set. Sloane was looking back at her, waving, with a big grin on her face.

"I'm taking it for Wreck!" she called.

Sloane's grin grew, and she flipped off the camera with both hands, giving Timber a good laugh.

Willa Barns had tagged along today. She held up two lamps that were in the shape of penises. "Does this match your aesthetic?"

She giggled and turned the camera toward her face. "J, crucial question—do we need penis lamps? Please respond quickly, before she starts haggling. She's bought like thirty-seven things for four dollars at this point. She's very good at it." Send.

Yep, she was using his real first initial. Everyone else could call him Wreck Itall. She didn't see him that way though. He was more Josiah than Wreck to her.

After the minute it took him to watch the video, he responded. If you bring those home, I will be all red flames.

She cracked up and texted back. Fiiiiine. We are going to lunch next, and then to get an outfit for tonight. Have you hung out with Ruger much? The kid is awesome. Send.

I just ordered one of my trading cards to be printed for him. His birthday is next week, and he collects them. He will have the only trading card of me in the world. I talked to the printer and signed paperwork that only this one would be printed, ever. It will be the hologram one. Don't tell him. Sloane texted me an hour ago to invite us (you and me) to his birthday party next weekend. She told me I'm not allowed to burn his birthday party. Annoying. I like that she invited you though. Ruger is the coolest part of the Fastlanders.

Okay. Okay! She really liked this man. He was caring and quiet with his presents, and she loved that he was going to do that for Ruger.

Send me a hot selfie. Send.

Only if you send me one.

Deal. Send. Timber took a picture of her making a silly face at the camera. Send.

Wreck sent her a selfie of his face angled to the side, cocky-man look on his face, baseball hat on backwards, white T-shirt clinging to his muscular shoulders.

Oh. Dear goodness.

She saved the picture and set it as her lock screen, and she did not care what that said about her.

A screenshot of his lock screen came through, and it was her making the silly face.

She laughed, and texted, I made you my lock screen too , accompanied with the screenshot of her lock screen.

Hahahaha.

Hurry up and finish that fence, sexy nips. We have a date tonight and I'm wearing something scandalous. Send.

Mmmm. Send pics of the options.

Maybe I will, or maybe I will surprise you with something super slutty. Send.

Tease.

Only via text. You know I meet your needs when you have me. Send.

Woman.

Yes? She added an innocent-angel emoji. Send.

Careful with that, or this fence won't get finished. I'll finish you instead.

Dragons, dragons, dragons in her middle. I like your nads. See you tonight, hot stuff. Send.

You're mine. You know that right?

She took a picture of his branded handprint on her arm and sent it to him with the caption, I'm aware . Send.

His phone call came through immediately.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?"

"Ummm," she said, squinting at the street sign to try and read it. "At the garage sale still."

"Fuck, I need you," he gritted out, and she could hear the hunger in his tone.

Chills rippled up her spine, and she shivered at the desperation in his voice. "You can have me tonight."

He chuckled a dark laugh. "You and I both know I can have you whenever I want. You'll be taken care of."

The memory of last night rushed across her mind, quickly followed by the memory of him dragging two orgasms from her body against the kitchen countertop this morning. He wasn't bluffing. He genuinely enjoyed giving her pleasure. She could tell.

"Don't burn down the bar tonight, and you can do whatever you want to my body afterward," she murmured low.

"You know, I'm not always going to be perfect," he told her.

"I don't expect perfection. Just no murders. Now get back to work so we can have a real night off."

"Yes ma'am."

"Bye," she uttered on a breath.

"See you real soon."

Oooh, the way his voice purred through the phone line and drove straight into her center.

"Wreck?" she blurted out.

"Yeah?"

"I like you! Okay, bye!" Panicking, she hung up the phone and stared down at the screen in mortification as the glow faded to black.

Why had she said that? It was way too deep, way too fast. It was experimenting with getting closer to the L-word way too early. He would see that from a mile away.

"Stupid," she muttered, shoving her phone into her back pocket. She was blushing so deeply, her ears were hot with it. Gah, she had never felt so giddy about a boy. She felt like she was in high school with this intense crush, but that didn't make any sense! She was grown. She was smart, and educated, and knew the ins and outs of emotional maturity, but her heart did not care about anything logical.

Wreck consumed her mind and took up every molecule of space.

Feeling insecure, she texted, I'm sorry I said that .

She checked her phone three times as they loaded up the rest of their purchases. No text back.

She checked it while they ate lunch, and also when they were driving to the store to find an outfit for tonight. Nothing.

After the second dress she tried on in the changing room, Timber typed out another apology for saying that, and asked him to forget all about it, but then chickened out and deleted it. She could just pretend it hadn't happened. Yep, that was the plan. Tonight she would be happy and chatty and never, ever mention that she'd blurted out something so silly this early on in the relationship. They hadn't even talked about what they were. Was this even a relationship? She didn't know!

Wreck was powerful, and sure of himself, and everyone had this fear of him…or perhaps respect was a kinder word. He was something big to Damon's Mountains, and she was just this weird little overthinking, talkative, crossword-puzzle nerd that studied botany for funsies on the weekend. He didn't even know that! Because they barely knew each other! Right? They'd already slept together. God, she'd let all her walls down so fast. Too fast.

She picked the dress the girls liked the best, paid out, and then climbed back into the truck, still feeling mortified that he hadn't responded. Was she thinking too hard about this? She had no right to feel rejected. Right? Gah. Timber wanted to throw her phone out the window and move to another country. He hadn't texted her back, and hadn't told her that he liked her too. He was probably freaking out. Like she was freaking out! They were definitely having twin freak-outs, all because she couldn't keep her big mouth shut.

He was probably planning a way to break up with her.

Criminy!

Hallie leaned over to her and sniffed. "You smell like panic with subtle undercurrents of ‘fuck this'."

"I did something stupid," she wheezed. Maybe she needed to breathe into a paper bag.

"We're here," Silver announced as she pulled her truck over to the curb in a neighborhood Timber didn't recognize.

Here where? Timber's attention landed on a half-built fence next to a house. The sight of Wreck striding toward them, looking very unsurprised at their arrival, had her asking, "What did you do?"

"Wreck texted me and asked me to bring you to him. We will unload your furniture when we get back. Some of us have to go in to work now."

"He…he asked you to bring me."

"Stop being a wiener and go fix whatever happened," Hallie advised her. "I'm nauseous as hell right now."

Willa was sitting up front with a diaper bag that was apparently full of snacks, because she immediately handed back a package of saltine crackers and a frosty bottle of ginger ale.

"Growing a parasite is hard," she told Hallie sympathetically.

"Willa," Corey said from the other side of Hallie in the back. "You shouldn't call a baby a parasite—"

"You're pregnant?" Timber blurted out.

Hallie was busy shoveling a pair of crackers into her maw, so she just nodded.

"Oh my gosh, congratulations!" The door opened beside her. Wreck reached across her lap, unfastened her seatbelt, and then scooped her out of the seat.

"Okay, that was hot," Hallie said around a bite of crackers.

Wreck reached in and grabbed her purse from the floorboard, carried her around the truck and to the middle of the yard, and then set her down. He wrapped his strong hand around hers and pulled her toward the side yard.

"Bye, lovebirds!" Silver called, and then the engine of her truck started fading as she drove away.

"Listen, I'm sorry—"

"Don't."

Oh, he seemed mad, or frustrated, or something. Clearly she'd done something wrong.

He pulled her around the corner of the house, picked her up by the waist to get her over a pile of fence posts, and then drove her straight back to the brick wall, and his lips pressed to hers. He pushed his tongue past her lips and tasted her, and slowly, she slid her hands up his chest and around the back of his neck. He dragged one of her hands to the seam of his jeans and pressed it there against his stone-hard erection.

"Fuck," he whispered, resting his forehead against hers. His breath came fast, and he was squeezing his eyes tightly closed. He released her and locked his arms on the wall on either side of her face. He opened his eyes, and they were full of fire. "What are you doing to me?"

"Accidentally seducing you?" she guessed.

"It's more than that. It's more." He pushed off the wall and strode down the length of wall toward the backyard.

Baffled and flushed with pleasure, her senses in overdrive, she just stood there watching the way his butt looked in those jeans as he walked away to apparently cut off the woman he'd heard coming.

Huh?

The woman was drop-dead gorgeous. She had platinum-blonde hair, the perfect pixie nose paired with full lips, and smoky eyeshadow over her bright-blue eyes. She was tall and fit, and pretty much the opposite of Timber. She was carrying a pair of what looked like lemonades. When her eyes landed on Timber, the greeting smile she'd worn for Wreck disappeared.

"Who is she?" the woman asked.

"Ms. Lundsford—"

"Drea," the woman corrected Wreck. "I keep telling you to call me Drea."

He flashed a frustrated look at Timber and said, "This is Timber. Timber, this is who I'm building this fence for."

Drea's eyes were narrowed on Timber, and very mean-looking.

"It's nice to meet you. I'm just here to…help. And…" She looked around for inspiration. "Take inventory. Looks like we might need more…wood. I should go to the lumberyard for you, Wre—Mr. Itall."

Wreck was staring at her like he was concerned. "That's my lady. She's going to help me finish this fence so I can get out of your hair and you can get your yard back," Wreck told Drea.

"That's unfortunate," Drea said. "I mean, how quaint. I didn't realize you were dating someone. The website still lists you as unpaired."

Wreck frowned. "Why did you look up my registration page?"

"Curiosity."

"Well, you know what they say about that," Timber said in a chipper tone. She could guess why Ms. Perfect-Bone-Structure had hired him. Wreck was hot as hell.

"No. Tanner, was it?" Drea asked. "What do they say about that?"

She ignored the purposeful mispronunciation of her name. "They say curiosity killed the cat!"

Wreck snorted and scratched his nose, trying to hide his smile.

"This was supposed to be a one-man job," Drea said low. "I'm not paying her any extra."

"The quote was the quote," he said. "I wouldn't expect you to pay more. Thank you for thinking of that, though. Are those for us?" he asked, gesturing to the lemonades in her hands.

"Not anymore," Drea gritted out. She turned around and disappeared into the backyard. The slamming of her door shocked Timber.

The nerve of that woman.

"She's been on me like a fly on shit since I started this job yesterday."

"Is that why you brought me here? Am I a cockblocker for your horny clients?"

"What? No!" He gripped his hands on his hips, and the gesture made his arm muscles look extra sexy in the thin white T-shirt that was all smudged with dirt from his work. He had his baseball cap on backwards, and a pencil tucked behind his ear. His jeans were filthy, and he had a tape measure clipped onto his pocket. "Maybe. She wouldn't leave me alone, and it made me feel…" His frown deepened.

"Feel what?"

"I didn't like it. I just wanted you here. It wasn't to cockblock, or whatever you're thinking. My cock is…" He gestured to her.

"Your cock is what?" she said, trying to suppress her smile.

He cleared his throat. "You know."

"I don't know."

Wreck ran his hand down the scruff on his face and shook his head. "Forget it."

"That cock is mine."

He froze, and then slowly lifted those blazing, fiery eyes to her. The most devilish smile she'd ever witnessed crept across his mouth.

"Is that what you meant?" she asked, reveling in his reaction to her possessive words. He liked it. She could tell he did.

"Say that again," he said, stalking toward her.

"That cock is mine." She twitched her chin toward the backyard. "I don't blame her for wanting you, but you aren't for her."

He closed the last few feet between them, picked her up, tossed her easily over his shoulder and slapped her ass, then grabbed it and jiggled it.

She would've squirmed away and gotten embarrassed at just how much it jiggled if he wasn't enjoying himself so thoroughly. He carried her over the pile of fence materials and set her on her feet at the front corner of the house. "There's some waters in the blue cooler in the back of my truck. Want to grab them for us? I need a couple minutes out of your presence so I can get control of myself."

She dipped her gaze down to the raging boner that was pressed against the seam of his jeans. He didn't hide it. He cocked his head and arched an eyebrow. "Keep me on task so I can take you home faster."

She wouldn't admit it, but she liked the way he'd said that. He'd said the word home like it was theirs, not just his.

"I need you to get back to work. Just tell me what you need."

"To be inside you."

"Boy, if you keep talking like that, I'm going to make you take me home right now, and I'm pretty sure you need this job done today so you don't have to come back to it tomorrow without me. Drea is watching us out the window."

He twisted, and the blinds Drea had been peeking out of dropped down in a rush.

"I'll get the waters, you get your fine ass back to work," she told him.

"Yeah, boss," he said through a smirk, and then turned to leave. "Hey, Timber?"

"Yep?" she said, turning, pausing her short trek to his truck bed.

"What you said on the phone earlier."

Oh God. "About that. I know it's way too fast—"

"Me too. You didn't give me time to respond, woman, and then you texted an apology, and I knew you were in your head about it. I'm not going to write that shit in a text. I want to say it in person." He inhaled deeply, and cocked his head to the side. "I like you too. Obviously."

He turned and disappeared around the side of the house, left her there feeling like he'd just told her something very big for a man like him.

Alone in the yard, she whooped and jumped up in the air, doing a little split-legged move she'd seen cheerleaders do on TV. She landed and ran her feet in place as fast as she could while executing this excited little high-pitched celebration.

"You good?" Wreck asked.

She looked up to find Wreck watching her with a little smile tugging at his lips and amusement dancing in his eyes.

Be cool. "Yep. I'm great."

"Me too."

"That's phenomenal. I'm going to get your water now." She turned and walked off, realized she was aimed for the mailbox, and then corrected her trajectory. She turned, and Wreck was standing there watching her with a bigger smile now, his arms crossed over his chest. "Truck is that way," he told her helpfully, pointing.

"Yes. I'm going that way now. To your truck. You said you like me too."

"I did. I meant it."

"That's very good news."

He nodded, biting back a hot-boy grin.

"Okay, I'm going to hydrate you now."

"Okay."

"All right." She nearly ran into his truck, and laughed at herself. "There's your truck."

"It's big and red and hard to miss."

"So true."

"You're pretty fuckin' cute," he called across the yard. "Just so you know."

She stood there, grinning like a dumbass, while he disappeared around the corner again.

He thought she was cute. And he liked her. Wreck the Phoenix Shifter liked her. Over the past few years, she'd felt unlikable and expendable, but he was taking all of those uncomfortable insecurities away from her.

He'd said she would figure out she was the fire, but that wasn't happening. He was the fire, but she was figuring out her place with him, and that felt pretty damn special.

When she returned to the side of the house with the frosty waters, Wreck was back to work. She took a second to admire how handy he was. He had some kind of leveling contraption fixed to the top of ten boards, and was securing them onto the fence framework with a nail gun that he clearly knew what he was doing with. He shot them so fast and so accurately, she just stood there observing in awe. When he made his way to the lumber pile to pull the next ten, she saw a spot where she could help. She hauled one to his five, and held those five in place where they were leaned against the framework while he got the last of the fence boards.

She spread her arms out and leaned her weight on them while he secured the level, then backed away for him to nail them down. He made her put on a pair of gloves at the first sign of splinters, and they hit a good rhythm as they worked the entire line of fence. The yard was enormous, and it wasn't until he had to cut some new boards that she really got a look at the work he'd done. The yard had to be an acre, with different fencing along the back to give a view of the small river running through the property behind this one.

"How long have you been working on this job?" she asked, amazed.

"Since yesterday."

"Whoa. One day? You did all this in one day?"

He shrugged. "I wanted to finish it yesterday, but I was distracted." He tossed her a smirk and went back to his saw. He wasn't even wearing protective goggles. Maybe shifters just popped splinters out if they got them. She would be plucking splinters from her arms for a week, but perhaps shifter bodies rejected imperfections.

She'd never wished this before in her life, but it didn't seem like such a bad thing to be a shifter anymore.

Truth be told, she enjoyed this. She liked him teaching her about what he did for a living. She liked being of service if he needed her to run and grab something that would make the job go by faster. She liked the feeling of teamwork with him, and how patient he was. Most of all, she liked spending this quality time with him.

He was a hard worker. He didn't take many breaks, and he worked at the speed of freaking lightning. Figuring out ways to help before he even asked her to was so fun.

Nail gun ran out of nails? She ran and grabbed a new sleeve of them.

He needed to cut more wood to the correct length? Cool, she could start hauling the finished boards to where they had left off while he made the cuts.

If he looked thirsty? She offered water.

By the end of the day, he had taught her how to measure and make the cuts on a real-life saw with a real-life saw blade, and how to load and use the nail gun. She was basically a carpenter now. Or a lumberjack? Whatever she was, she felt like a million bucks.

Cleanup was less fun. Wreck was meticulous, even sweeping the pile of sawdust he'd made in the side yard by the saw. He organized all of his tools in the bed of his truck, and let her sit in the truck with the heat running while he did the final walk-around with Drea. When he came back to the truck, he set the check she'd given him on the seat and electronically deposited it into his bank account. She accidentally saw the number on it.

She jerked her attention away.

"I don't care if you look," he murmured, ripping up the deposited check. "I know how much you make an hour."

"Gasp! Have you been researching me?"

"Your hourly rate is listed right on the landing page of your website. I wouldn't call it research. Now that Halloween costume where you dressed as a can of beer back in October of 2017, that was research."

"Oh my gosh, I never post on my social media pages anymore. That account is old."

He put it into gear and backed out of the driveway. "Why don't you post? I'm asking for selfish reasons. You are entertaining on there."

She laughed, and wrapped her arms around herself. She hadn't realized how chilly it was outside when they were busy working, but now she felt it to her bones. "I stopped posting when all the family stuff went down. I couldn't post a single thing without them thinking it was somehow about them, and they would blow up my phone. I mean, if I posted a picture of me as that can of beer now, my mom would probably think I was taking a shot at her because it was her least favorite kind of beer."

"Geez," he muttered.

"Yeah. It took the fun away from posting."

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"I want to know all your secrets!"

Wreck snorted, and took a right at a stop sign. "I have a page."

"Gasp! What's the name on it, I want to research you."

Wreck was handsome when he was broody, but God, when he smiled, he lit up the world.

He told her his handle, which was some random letters and numbers that probably meant something to him, but meant nothing to her, and she opened up his page. It was strange being back on social media after so long! She had to remember how to navigate this.

She scrolled down the pictures he'd posted, and the smile slowly faded from her lips as she realized what the pictures were of.

Destruction.

There were pictures of big burns. Fields. Old, dilapidated barns. Rows of scorch marks etched into the earth. Fire on the side of a mountain. Ashes raining down from the sky. There were dozens and dozens and dozens of pictures. And while they were taken with an artist's eye, attention to detail, and interesting point of view, she couldn't get over the destruction in each of them. The moodiness. The dark.

"My shame," he said softly.

"You made all these burns," she guessed.

"I go back to some and take pictures so I can remember what the guilt feels like. I keep thinking it'll make the animal be more careful."

"You can't shame him into behaving, Wreck," she told him, forcing her gaze away from the grid of pictures. "That won't work."

"Nothing will work." He forced a smile. "I followed your page. I'm now following exactly one person."

"What?" she asked teasingly. "Wreck Itall, the famous phoenix shifter, is following me? I'm basically famous now."

"Oh please."

"Hold please, while I follow you back. Ding. Followed. It's getting serious now."

He slid his hand over her thigh and squeezed comfortingly.

On a whim, she took a picture of his big hand gripping her thigh, then texted him the picture. "That should be the next post. You aren't only destruction, you wild, complicated man. You make me feel safe, and cared about, and seen. You should take a picture of the trees you healed last night, and post that. Let your animal see the good in himself. You should post a picture of Ruger catching your green sparks as they rain down from the sky and calling them, what was it? Fuckin' fireflies."

A surprised-sounding laugh escaped Wreck. He eased his head back against the headrest as he drove one-handed, that smile clinging to his masculine lips.

She really, really liked him. And perhaps just as importantly, she liked who she was when she was with him.

The light ahead of them turned red, and she leaned toward him and held the camera up to take a selfie. He hesitated for a moment, but then pushed the console between them up and out of the way, unbuckled her seatbelt, pulled her right up against his rib cage, and cupped the side of her neck as rested his face against the side of her throat. It was a compromise. He didn't want his face exposed in pictures, and she understood that. Hell, even his registry picture to the Fastlanders was just flames.

She leaned her cheek against him, hiding his face more, and smiled for the picture.

He kissed her throat, and told her she could keep sitting right next to him as he pulled through the newly-green light.

So she buckled into that part of the bench seat, and then reviewed the photo. "I look really happy," she murmured, more to herself than anything.

He let off a long sigh, and his hand went back to her thigh. Affectionate monster. "I like that you said that."

"I'm happy," she said it again as she looked up at him.

"Then that's your post."

"Really?"

"Sure."

"But you're in this picture. Are you sure about it being on the internet?"

"Woman, stop talking me out of it. Post it if you want."

"I want to," she whispered. She quickly typed out a caption that spoke to her, and posted the picture of them.

When he pulled his truck up to the clearing in front of his house, he parked and checked her page on his phone. "Happy girl," he read aloud.

He "liked" her photo, and she let off a squeal. "Wreck motherfreaking Itall just liked my picture. He liked my picture!"

He ducked his gaze, but she caught it before he got out of the truck.

"Are you blushing?" she asked.

"I don't blush. I'm just hot."

"Yeah you are, you sexy King Kong ding-dong."

"No, I feel hot like I'm overheating."

"Oh. Want me to douse you with the water hose?"

"Maybe. Thinking of your family situation makes me angry."

She came around the front of his truck, adjusting the strap of her purse that had twisted. "You don't have to be angry about it. I am okay."

"Yeah, but you're so fuckin' cool, Timber. I really hope you know that. You aren't some throwaway kid. They are missing out. They are. You deserved better than all that."

He was getting worked up, and the air around him felt too hot. She had to take a step back to save her skin from the heat.

The brand on her arm began throbbing, just in memory of the pain his fire could create.

"Wreck," she whispered. "I'm really okay. Everything is okay."

He ran his hand down his jaw, and there was something there in his eyes. Something almost apologetic. Something pleading for understanding.

"Get in the house," he said, and began walking toward the road.

"Wreck—"

"House, Timber. Please."

And then he caught fire as he walked.

Shit. She turned and bolted for the house. She reached the door just as a huge whooshing sounded, and a wave of heat blasted against her skin.

She gasped, and turned around in time to see fiery wings beat the air as he rocketed straight into the sky. Knowing he was a phoenix and seeing him as a phoenix were two totally different things. He was massive, the size of ten of his trucks, and his flaming wings could spread so wide, they covered an enormous length of the sky. A trail of blistering lava followed him, soaking the grass he'd just launched from and burning a crater into the clearing. He went straight up, and up, until she couldn't see anything but a trail of smoke.

"Oh my gosh," she whispered to herself in awe as she watched him beat his fiery wings against the air currents.

There was a strange noise coming from the crater in the yard. Timber slowly approached it, trying hard with every step to identify the crackling sound.

When she looked inside the hole, she gasped. Shallow green flames lapped at the dark earth, and shoots of young grass were popping up wherever the green flames touched. The sound was the roots growing and clasping each other under the soil.

Timber pulled her phone up fast and took a picture of it. Heart racing, she turned for the trees he'd healed and strode for them, casting a glance up at the sky.

They were spruce trees, but there were little purple flowers all over the branches. That wasn't supposed to exist. These type of trees didn't bloom like this. She took pictures of it, and she could still see the trail of smoke in the sky from Wreck.

She texted him those pictures as a reminder that his animal was okay. That he didn't need to feel guilty for being the thing he was.

Wreck wasn't some abomination, as he saw himself.

He was layered and complicated, sure, but he didn't see himself the way she saw him.

He could heal if he wanted to.

One of the purple flowers fell from the tree. She caught it, and stared at the beautiful thing in her hand that only existed because Wreck did.

That saying he'd recited about the phoenix rising from the ashes, and his belief that it wasn't like that for him?

She disagreed.

He just hadn't finished rising yet, and part of her was thankful that she was going to get to witness this part of his story.