Brazing (Forged in Fire #2) Read Online Free PDF

everywhere.
                  I tried to pick up coffee—she was at a table near where I had to order.
                  I tried to go study in the library—she worked in the dang library.
                  She was every single place I wanted to go every single minute of every single day.
                  Not really—only the places I wanted to go.
                  I slummed down to the School of Business library to study with the suits now. One day I was gonna go in there in my Dad’s best overalls and some grass whittling between my teeth and proclaim “This sure is one fine studyin’ shack.” That would clear out their stuck up asses for sure.
                  Everything smelled like leather in their library.
                  Two more weeks was all I had until Thanksgiving break. I could put up with anything for two more weeks.
                  After an hour of staring at the economics book, having not even read a single sentence I slammed it shut, causing the hyped up sponsors of Red Bull studying around me to jump out of their ties.
                  What? They’d never heard a book slam?
                  It had become a real problem of late. I couldn’t concentrate on my studies regardless of my earnest determination. I wasn’t lazy by a long shot. Any kid raised on a farm, especially raised on a farm by a father who was a blacksmith, didn’t have a choice in the matter.
                  Poor country kids didn’t have the luxury of being lazy.
                  We worked for every morsel that hit our mouths.
                  Which was why I was so conflicted. I felt like a spoilt brat not happy with Daddy’s color choice of their brand new sports car.
                  I was stuck in a constant juggling of choices. My mind never stopped thinking about it. I looked around the room, observing the way the other students were diligent in their goals, highlighting the shit out of them in their books, taking notes like note taking was their pic line to the IV of life. Some of them shook out ‘stay awake’ pills and chased them with enough energy drinks to give heart palpitations to an Orca whale. It was their life, school and the pursuit of bigger better things.
                  I’d once chased that same dream.
                  Why was I finishing out the semester again?
                  I stood with my brow furrowed cursing the books in front of me on the table and what they stood for. School felt like a prison of late.
                  I hate school.
                  My home was in the workshop.
                  My home was with the metal—the silver—the gold.
                  Home was feeling the heat through my gloves and a constant sweat on my brow.
                  Home was on my mother’s discarded stool focused on a project—seeing the finished product in my mind’s eye as it took shape under my capable hands.
                  Still standing, the librarian eyed me as if someone not comfortable among the leather and highlighters was an anomaly.
                  I should be grateful, I began to debate myself out of what I really wanted to do.
                  I should be grateful that I have the opportunity that most people would kill for. I have a killer truck and a paid for education courtesy of my brother and my father’s legacy. I had a great family and a business degree would only further those prospects.
                  But I hated it—every single second of it.
                  The walls came to life in my mind, closing in on me.
                  No, this is not what I want.
                  I want to go home.

Chapter Four
     
    Tate
     
                  “No, I’m not