Wood & Iron

Chapter 11

It was not uncommon for Liv Wood to spend the entire afternoon on the seat of a bicycle. There were days when she'd spend her morning teaching sessions at the spin studio, only to drive home, get on her Stumpjumper 12-speed, and ride the 25 miles out toward Sunriver, where she'd ride the trails among the tourists for an hour or two before riding the 25 back to Crooked River Estates.

But on this Friday, she wasn't thinking at all about the miles ridden. She didn't look once at her Apple Watch to see if she was keeping her normal 13.3 mile-per-hour pace. Her mind wasn't at all on her VO2 max, or the things that generally occupied every ounce of her mind while she was pedaling, and it was all because of the text she'd received less than two miles into the day's ride.

It wasn't odd for her to receive a text from Alex. It happened all the time. There was the thread between the two of them, as well as the one that included Morgan. Then there was the group text with all six of them. Each thread contained hundreds of messages, so when she felt her phone buzz from the zippered pocket of her bike shorts, she didn't think anything of it. She was not remotely ready for what she'd read when she held the watch face before her eyes.

If you've ever received a text message that wasn't meant for you, you know how confusing it can be. Once, around the fire pit on a Friday, Morgan's phone had buzzed with an inquiry about a lawn mower for sale.

Would you take $250 for the Deere?

After the confusion had subsided, she'd had The Six Pack laughing to the point of tears with her responses to the wrong number.

I don't know. It's already a good deal. It would be worth at least double if I could get the blood off it.

By the night's end, they'd thoroughly convinced some innocent stranger that they'd used the Craigslisted tractor in a string of crimes.

In this instance, though, as Liv read the unintentional text while pedaling out of Crooked River Estates, she had a feeling that the consequences of this error would be far more severe.

She read the text, and then she read it again. She didn't believe what she saw, so she read it a third time. And then, as if her watch were not a reliable source, she unzipped the small pocket on her hip, pulled out her phone, and read it again.

"Oh my god."

She said it out loud, even though she was the only one around. She stood there, straddling her bicycle and staring at the 4-inch screen, wondering what to do.

She had to tell Benji.

Almost instinctively, she held her finger and thumb on opposite sides of the phone and pressed down. The screenshot appeared in the bottom left corner of her screen before sliding offscreen.

While she was still staring, wondering what to do next, the last text disappeared and was replaced by a small message where those awful words had been: Alex unsent a message.

She pulled her left wrist up to her face, where she'd initially read the text, and saw the same notification: Alex unsent a message.

She stood there for what seemed like an eternity. If she'd checked the Fitness app on her watch, it would've told her that her heart rate was equivalent to mile 40 of her ride. And it only got faster when her screen lit up with Alex's face and a little green button asking her to accept the incoming call. Why the hell is Alex calling me?

Liv panicked. She hit the red decline button, slid the phone back into the pocket of her shorts, and began riding.

The thoughts were racing through her mind as quickly as her legs pedaled. She knew she had to tell Benji, but how? Did Alex know she sent the text? Obviously, because she unsent it. But did she assume that Liv had seen it? Who was the text supposed to be sent to?

These questions were racing through her mind when she felt her phone buzz again. She looked at the face of her watch: Voicemail. She tapped the green button, and Alex's message played in her AirPods.

"Hey, Liv." She sounded nervous. "Just checking in. Um... heading to the store before the fire pit tonight, and wondered if you wanted me to pick up any of those seltzers you like. Just let me know."

Before this morning, Liv would've never questioned her sister-in-law's intentions. She'd never once had a conversation with her friend of more than a dozen years and wondered about her motives. But that text changed everything. She's trying to play it off like nothing happened, she thought, still pedaling at a clip higher than her average. She's calling to see if I saw the text before she unsent it.

That fact made her almost as angry as what was revealed in the original text, though it was not nearly as egregious.

So she spent the next few hours pedaling, thinking nothing of her pace or training. She rode on auto-pilot, her mind consumed with so many conversations that would have to follow. She had no idea what to say to her husband. He'd be crushed. And what then? Would he tell Adam? He'd have to, right? That conversation would be difficult for anyone... but the two of them? She shuddered as it played out in her mind. And dear lord, how would she ever be able to look Alex in the eyes again?

The 29" wheels on her Stumpjumper had taken her more than 60 miles while she pondered these questions. Unfortunately, the miles and hours didn't seem to offer any solutions. They did, however, take her to where she needed to be, even if she didn't consciously make the decision.

When she turned the corner, Liv was almost surprised to see the large Wood & Iron sign on the side of the road. But she didn't think twice once the club was in view. She rode along the winding half-mile frontage road, the vast fairways of holes two and seventeen on each side of her.

If she'd stopped to think, she might have talked herself out of walking right into the clubhouse and asking the lady at the front desk for Benji.

"He's in with Adam right now."

"Could you please tell him that I really need to speak with..."

She hadn't finished her sentence when she heard the door open at the end of the hall.