The heat was relentless, a thick, suffocating presence that wrapped around Ezra like a second skin. It radiated off the steel beams, seeped into the concrete, and clung to his shirt in damp, suffocating patches. Every breath felt like swallowing warm air straight from an exhaust vent. The worst part was the stillness—there wasn’t a single breeze to cut through the stagnant weight pressing down on the site.

  Most of the crew had resigned themselves to the heat, slowing their pace, taking longer water breaks, and lingering under the shade of scaffolding whenever they had the chance. Ezra, however, refused to stop.

  His shirt was soaked through before midday, his muscles ached, and his arms stung from the sting of dried sweat mixing with dust and sawdust, but he kept moving. Every nail he drove, every pnk he lifted, every task he completed—it all counted.

  It had to.

  Bruiser wasn’t here anymore.

  With him gone, Ezra had no one to help pick up the sck, no one to split the load, and it showed. He wasn’t just doing his usual share—he was doing twice the work. And yet, that wasn’t the real reason he was pushing himself.

  The ring.

  That single thought was enough to keep him going, to drown out the burning fatigue creeping into his bones. Julie had seen it months ago, just a brief gnce through a mall storefront, her fingers lingering on the gss for only a moment before she moved on, like it was nothing. But Ezra had seen something else. The way her expression softened, the brief flicker of longing, the way she quickly dismissed it as if she shouldn’t even entertain the thought of having something so extravagant.

  She deserved that ring.

  And he was going to get it for her.

  The first time Ezra noticed the tan lines, it was te July, and he was washing up in the break trailer. At first, he thought it was just dirt, a yer of grime from the day’s work. He scrubbed at his forearm, rubbing at the stark contrast between his sun-darkened skin and the pale, untouched strip where his gloves ended. But no matter how hard he scrubbed, it wouldn’t fade.

  It wasn’t dirt. It was permanent. "Hell," he muttered, turning his arm in the dim light. The next day, the teasing started.

  "You’re two different people now, kid," Bubba said with a chuckle, shaking his head."That’s not a tan, that’s a commitment," another worker added.

  Ezra groaned, but even he had to admit—it was ridiculous. And still, he kept going.

  By early August, the fatigue was creeping into his work. At first, it was little things. A measurement off by half an inch. A missed drill hole. Grabbing the wrong size screws.

  Then it started getting worse.

  His hands shook when he reached for his water bottle. He forgot instructions Mac had given him seconds after hearing them. His mind blurred at the edges, his exhaustion turning into something heavier—something dangerous. The crew noticed before he did.

  Jezoos was the first to physically block him from picking up another pnk of wood. "Put it down," he ordered.

  Ezra frowned, confused. "What?"

  "You’re gonna make a mistake that’s gonna cost someone their fingers," Jezoos said, arms crossed.

  Ezra opened his mouth to argue, but Bubba’s voice cut through the tension.

  "You know what’s worse than working slow?" Bubba asked, stepping closer.

  Ezra clenched his jaw. "What?"

  "Having to tell someone’s family that they got hurt because a damn fool wouldn’t take a break."

  The words stung. He wanted to deny it, to brush them off, to insist he was fine. But he wasn’t.

  His hands were still trembling. His arms ached with a deep, bone-deep weariness that no amount of stubbornness could shake.

  With a frustrated breath, he dropped the pnk back onto the pile.

  "Good," Jezoos said, nodding. "Now go sit your ass down."

  It happened ter that week.

  The heat had been worse than usual, the air thicker, heavier, like it had weight. Ezra had been running on pure determination, ignoring the gnawing feeling in his gut, the way his limbs dragged like lead.

  And then, the world tilted.

  One second, he was standing. The next, his knees buckled. Voices blurred together, hands caught him before he hit the ground, and suddenly he was being dragged toward the cool, air-conditioned break trailer.

  His head spun.

  "Shit, he’s burning up," someone muttered.

  "Get him water—now!"

  The next few minutes were a haze. A water bottle was shoved into his hands, voices murmured over him, but all he could do was y there, staring at the ceiling, body too exhausted to protest.

  The water was cool against his lips, but his thoughts were somewhere else.

  For the first time, he let himself really think about the future. College wasn’t an option. It never had been, really. Not with the ring on his mind, not with how much he had already sacrificed for it.

  But that was fine.

  Because Julie was worth more than any school. She was his future. And as soon as he got back on his feet, he was going to make sure she knew that.

  The weight of the ring in Ezra’s pocket felt heavier than it should have. Maybe it was because of the sheer amount of work it had taken to get it—long hours, double shifts, sweat, exhaustion, and damn near passing out in the heat. Or maybe it was because this wasn’t just some impulse buy. This was everything.

  The jeweler had eyed him warily when he walked in, clothes still stained from the worksite, dust clinging to his arms and neck. He knew he didn’t look like the kind of guy who could afford what he was asking for. Hell, when he saw the price tag, he almost walked right back out the door.

  But this wasn’t about money.

  This was about Julie.

  So he had gritted his teeth, pulled out every hard-earned credit he had scraped together, and made the purchase.

  And now?

  Now, all he needed was the right moment.

  Julie found out three days ter. And when she did? Oh, she was pissed. "You’re a goddamn idiot, Ezra."

  Ezra barely had time to brace himself before she stormed into his room, arms crossed, eyes fshing like she was ready to throw something at his head.

  "You almost colpsed at work? For what? Bragging rights?!"

  Ezra sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "Julie—"

  "No! No, you don’t get to brush this off, Ezra!" she snapped, stepping closer. "You scared the hell out of me! What were you thinking?!"

  Ezra knew exactly what he was thinking, but he couldn’t tell her. Not yet. So instead, he shrugged, pying it off with the best lie he could think of. "I was thinking about college."

  Julie’s anger faltered, just for a second. "College?" she echoed, eyebrows knitting together in suspicion.

  Ezra nodded, leaning back against the desk, forcing a casual tone. "Yeah. You keep saying I should be thinking about the future, right? So I figured I’d work overtime, save up, try to make something happen."

  Julie eyed him like she wasn’t sure whether to believe him. "You hate the idea of college," she pointed out.

  Ezra scoffed. "Yeah, well, I hate being broke even more." That seemed to settle her, if only slightly.

  She let out a slow breath, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. "You could’ve just told me instead of nearly working yourself into a coma, dumbass."

  Ezra chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, well. You know me."

  Julie rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

  And just like that, he had dodged a bullet. Now, all that was left was finding the perfect moment.