Page 73 of Lost Trust

“Yeah,” Micah says, “this is exactly the kind of stupid shit Jovie just told you not to do for the next ten weeks.”

“She said not to get on a bull. She didn’t say anything about moving furniture.”

“Pretty sure she meant any stupid shit,” Cabe says.

“Jovie needs to learn the definition of doctor-patient confidentiality.”

He snorts.

We make it through the doorway without destroying anything, which feels like an accomplishment.

The mattress follows.

Then the nightstands.

Then the dresser.

By the time we get everything loaded into the backs of Bryce’s and my trucks, I’m sweating through my shirt.

Bryce looks over the truck bed, checking the straps. Then we head back inside for the bed from the guest room.

“Where’s this one going?” Cabe asks.

“Just switching it over to the master suite,” Bryce answers.

“Why?”

“Because Charli said so.”

We wrestle the frame through the doorway. It’s as heavy as the other one.

“Left,” Bryce says.

“I’m going left,” I grunt.

“Your other fucking left.”

“I have one left, asshole.”

I pivot to the right, and we somehow manage to get the bed into the master suite without taking a chunk out of the doorframe.

Bryce steps back and looks around. “Damn.”

“What?” I ask.

“Feels like yesterday I walked into this place. All full of piss and vinegar. I couldn’t wait to get the hell out.”

I chuckle. “And as far away from Charli as you could get.”

“Yeah. Until that wicked woman cast her spell on me.”

“And now you have a whole-ass new life. New career. New house. New wife.”

He looks toward the doorway, then grins.

Micah leans against the wall. “Speaking of the new wife, how was the honeymoon?”

Bryce’s grin gets wider.