a silent film he'd watched a thousand times before
Marcus rolled his shoulders, trying to work out the tightness left from hauling beams. Theea’s determination lingered in his mind, and he let slip sideways glances at her to see if she was okay after all that. But heavier on him was the knowledge that there was more yet to be done. His gaze shifted toward the frame of the structure.
“I can help with the next,” he said, voice steady despite the burning of his muscles beneath his coat. He wasn’t just another set of hands here—he was an Olson. His father’s name still carried weight, his family bound to fire and endurance, and Marcus felt the unspoken expectation burning at the back of his throat. To falter here, on something so important to Damien, wasn’t an option. He braced his palms against the rough grain of wood, eyes narrowing with determination, and when he had the support of another, he helped hoist and brace beams.
Marcus helps with beams!
“I can help with the next,” he said, voice steady despite the burning of his muscles beneath his coat. He wasn’t just another set of hands here—he was an Olson. His father’s name still carried weight, his family bound to fire and endurance, and Marcus felt the unspoken expectation burning at the back of his throat. To falter here, on something so important to Damien, wasn’t an option. He braced his palms against the rough grain of wood, eyes narrowing with determination, and when he had the support of another, he helped hoist and brace beams.
Marcus helps with beams!
marcus olson
