Chasing Impossible (Pushing the Limits, #5)(70)

I choke on the laugh. “Bet you can’t.”

We both stand, fully aware the dare is on. Ryan flips his baseball cap backwards and I toss mine to the ground. Ryan’s a pitcher. Can throw faster than anyone I know. He’s all shoulders and upper body. We’re built similar, but this kid is a machine.

Abby claps. “It’s like my own version of Gladiator. Now, go fetch me a baby bird.”

Ryan and I stand near the tree, me on one side, him on the other.

“First one to touch the limb with the nest?” I confirm.

Ryan nods. “Count it down, Chris. Not unless you want to join us.”

“I’m good,” Chris says.

I smile and Ryan does, too. Chris hates heights, but other than that, he’s always interested in joining us in a good dare.

“Chris is just sore because he’s on a losing streak,” I say. “Doesn’t want to get further behind as I continue to win.”

“Kiss my ass, Junior.”

I chuckle. “Waiting on that countdown.”

“Both of you are crazy,” he mumbles. “And when you fall to your deaths, I’m using the bulldozer to shove your bodies into a ditch. On your mark...”

I do a quick study of the tree and before I can completely formulate my path up, Chris yells, “Go.”

Damn. Ryan springs up and I do, too. I kick off the side of the tree and grab the first thick low branch. I swing up, get my footing and jump to grab the next. The tree shakes as me and Ryan navigate through the fragile limps, thick foliage, all while trying to beat the other.

Ryan doesn’t like to lose and I don’t like losing to Ryan. There’s a mean streak in me that likes to see the kid squirm. With each jump, every pull up, that adrenaline that I crave pumps through my body. Leaves fall into my hair, small sticks bounce off my face. Below us, people call out our names, clap, cheer us on, but it’s Abby’s voice that’s driving me to go faster, higher and then the nest is within sight.

Another push off with my legs, a reach of my arm and right as I smack my hand on the branch so does another hand and I immediately call the win. “Got here first.”

“No way, Logan. That win was mine.”

“Who won?” I call down.

Both of our names are shouted back up to us, and declaring it a draw is never an option for Ryan. He wants a win and he wants a win that’s decisive. “We do it again.”

The way his eyes bore into me, there’s no doubt what he sees—me, his friend, the guy he hates losing to. “Fine, we do it again and I’ll kick your ass again.”

“Keep talking big, Logan, but we both know I got this.”

“I got action to back me up.”

Ryan crouches on his branch and puts his hand on the trunk to steady himself. He looks out on the land and I have to admit, it’s a sight. Miles and miles of green on the ground and an infinity of blue in the sky.

“Can I ask you something?” he hedges.

“Shoot.”

“Is it going to kill you? The diabetes?”

I straddle the branch, letting my legs dangle and contemplate going for the nest that’s nestled at the far end of the tree as a gift to Abby. “People die from it, but odds are—no. As long as I take care of myself I should be fine. Dad says I’ll die doing something crazy with you before any complication with the diabetes pops up.”

“Considering we’re dangling at least two stories up a tree, can’t say I disagree.”

I chuckle and so does he.

“I’m going to have a lot of questions. We all are.”

And I’ll need to answer them. “All right.”

“You should have told me.”

“Yeah.” Guess I should have trusted our friendship more. “Just didn’t want anyone to treat me different.”

“Good luck with that.”

A low-level ripple of anger in my bloodstream. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ryan releases a grin that’s only a fraction of the crazy found in me. “Everyone knows you’re insane and not a thing is normal about you.”

The anger washes away and I nod, okay with being different.

A downy head peaks out from the nest and we hear a tiny screech. Wow. There’s actually baby birds in there. “Want a baby bird?” I call to Abby.

She shakes her head as she stares up at me. “They should stay with their parents.”

Yeah, they should and as I go to say something deep, Abby shouts up to me, “But I still want a bunny! Stuffed ones don’t count!”

“She’s a bit demanding,” Ryan says.

“Yeah, but I like her.” More than like and by the smile on Ryan’s face, he understands.





Abby

Working as a team, the boys hand off bale of hay after bale of hay to the next guy in line until it reaches Chris and he neatly stacks it in the barn. They work under lamps hung in the rafters. They’ve been at it all day. In the fields, in the barn, picking up, stacking, never ceasing.

Night is just about to completely fall. There’s only a sliver of red and pink in the western sky. The rest of the world is dark. Very dark. Except for the scattered fireflies dancing across the field.

Logan has his shirt off, all the boys do, but it’s Logan that I can’t stop staring at. He’s gorgeous. Black hair, dark eyes, muscles that ripple with every movement. A fine sheet of sweat covers him and I’ve spent the past twenty minutes imagining caressing my fingers along the lines of his chest. His jeans ride low and I can spot the tip of his black underwear.