Sore Bottom

Garret glanced over at Nate, realizing he'd been caught in his own little world. He shrugged. "It was alright. I'm starting to get used to being bored." He didn't really mean to sound grouchy when he said it, but it was true...he was bored. If he had more to do at the Elite, he'd do it, but no one but Nate trusted him. Garret didn't blame Nate - he knew his hands were tied. It was just frustrating. He knew he was making headway...slowly...it was just hard going at a snail's pace just to prove he could help - or prove his loyalty. Maybe he'd never truly gain Reese's trust. In the meantime, he was stuck sorting paperwork and going over Brookshire files...again...and again. 

He took another spoonful of soup, taking his time eating so he could enjoy it longer. He could tell Nate about Scott. He should tell Nate about Scott. But he couldn't. He didn't think Scott was the type to follow through with his threat, but then, he wouldn't have imagined him blackmailing him in the first place. No...he couldn't risk even telling Nate. Not when Scott was so determined to keep it all a secret so he could follow through with his plan. 

"I don't know if there's much point in me coming in tomorrow," he concluded. Besides all that, he'd also seen Jamison off and on during the day, and...as much as he didn't want it to, it bothered him. Not showing up at the office tomorrow might be the best option for his own psyche. 


"I know." Scott's tone took on a hint of stubbornness that wasn't like him. At least not lately. "But sometimes my friends are too soft."

He glanced up at Dalton again. "Sometimes my friends sacrifice what's best because they just want me happy and... I'm not. I don't know if I'll ever be. I was made into a machine and maybe I should have been used as one so at least I would have had a purpose." 

Getting up from the table, he pulled his hoodie on over his head and aimed for the door. 


Loud banging on his door woke Travis with a start, and he sat up straight in bed, disoriented for several moments. The banging came again. 

"Come on! You got ten minutes to get your hind end in the barn, now move!" 

Travis' eyes widened at the sound of his dad's voice. He looked at the clock. No way. It was still dark! He knew better than to defy a direct order at this point though. Sliding out of bed, he fumbled around for his jeans and a clean shirt...or at least as shirt, and slapped his hat on his head before hopping out the door, trying to pull on his boots and get his jacket on. 

Still half asleep, he trudged to the barn, hands tucked in his pockets and yawning. Spotting his dad, he scowled. "Seriously?"

Lane grinned. "Well good morning, sunshine. Sleep well?"

"No."

"Aw. Well, too bad. We got horses that need to be exercised."

Travis blinked. "You're kidding me."

"Nope." Lane thumbed down the aisle to where a horse was already saddled. "Watch it. She's hungry for breakfast, so probably will be just a tad ornery."

"But-"

"Go. Now." 

Travis threw his dad a glare before stalking down to the mare and grabbing the reins to pull her outside. 

Lane stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Hey." His tone had grown stern. "Watch the attitude. She didn't do anything to you." 

"Whatever." Travis shrugged off his hand and continued his route outside and to the riding ring. He had a terrible feeling this was going to be a very long day. 

Back in the barn, Mick wandered over to Lane with a small grin on his face. He'd just gotten out here himself before most of the others showed up. Lane had talked to him yesterday about which horses he could put Travis on, and how to keep the boy too busy to get in any more trouble. "His bottom is gonna be awfully sore by tonight."

Lane smirked. "If he can't walk, he can't do anything else either."