10. Ian
TEN
IAN
News flash: a thick burger and salty fries don’t numb the senses nearly as well as a few shots of whiskey would.
My first impulse after running into Tess on the trail was to head to the nearest dive bar and drown myself in a bottle of bourbon. But I indulged in that too often in the first year after my accident. Drinking the day away never brought back my mountaineering career or the clients who once sought me out to guide them to new heights.
My next thought was to hop on my motorcycle and peel out of Sunshine at top speed. But since I don’t have a motorcycle anymore and haven’t ridden one since the crash, that option was out. Rumbling out of town in my old SUV didn’t sound nearly as satisfying.
So—burgers it is.
I’m sitting at the counter at Delish with a massive hamburger and tray of fries in front of me. I even ordered one of Amy’s signature marionberry milkshakes, which I don’t regret in the slightest.
I do regret how she’s watching me. She moves around the busy restaurant, taking orders and checking in with customers, but her gaze keeps coming back to me. Even when I’m focused on my food, I can feel it on me, prodding with unasked questions.
Maybe it’s because I’ve rarely been in here since I came to town.
Or maybe she read more in my face when I walked in than I meant to show.
Sometimes what someone’s feeling flashes like a neon sign in their expression. They can’t help it. Like the horrified look that slashed across Tess’s face when she caught sight of my prosthetic leg. At first, I’d thought her examination of my bare chest had some heat in it, but the longer she stared, the more it morphed into something like shock.
I’m past being horrified or depressed about my leg. Doesn’t mean I expect everyone else to treat it like a normal thing. And the look on Tess’s face hadn’t been close to normal. From what I’ve seen, her default is softness and gentleness, not mild panic.
The urge to push past her and run the rest of the way home had risen up inside me, but I’d held it down and stood my ground. Might as well get her reaction over and done with as fast as possible. And by the time she continued up the hill practically dragging August behind her, over sure felt like the best descriptor for whatever we had going.
I told myself I didn’t want any more cupcakes of mercy, right? This development should be a good thing. Even if it feels like the worst.
Amy leans on the counter across from me. “What else do you need?”
From the worried look in her eyes, I’m pretty sure she’s not talking about more ketchup.
“I’m good.” I don’t hold eye contact with her, though. She’s setting off on a deep dive into my psyche, and I don’t need to do anything that would help her along.
“How are things going with Tess?”
See? She got right to the tangled, messy heart of it.
I keep my focus on my fries as I dip them in sauce. “Fine.”
Except for the way Tess stared at me like she was truly seeing me for the first time. Like everything she thought or suspected or hoped about me rearranged in front of my eyes. Other than that, we’re great.
She waits, but if she’s holding out for more info about my neighbor, she won’t get it from me.
“Have you heard from your brothers lately?”
Now that one, I can answer. “Pierce and Bonnie are having a girl.”
Surprised he didn’t finish his rounds with that news.
“How adorable. I’ll have to call them. Should be in the next few weeks, right?”
“Something like that.” I go back to my meal.
“Will you go back to Colorado to see her?”
“Trying to get rid of me already?”
Amy smiles, but I probably deserve a slap across the face. She invited me to Sunshine in the first place. I didn’t know what to do with myself before she made that offer. The rent I give her doesn’t come close to what she could charge for my apartment, and I repay her by being distant and cold.
“If you want me out of here, I can go. You’ve done plenty for me?—”
She lays a hand on my arm, shutting me up. “We don’t want you to move out. I just wanted to know if you’re planning a trip back to meet your niece, that’s all.”
I know staying here is only a pitstop, but I’m not ready to figure out what to do next—and that includes visiting my brothers. They’ll put the pressure on to come home and rejoin the business, and I don’t know if I can do that yet.
I don’t know if I want to try. Not when so much of what I used to do is quite literally out of my reach. Some people with my amputation could, no question. But I’m not there.
“I don’t know,” I tell her.
She nods, pats my arm, and walks away to talk to customers.
Like she heard her cue, Jodi comes out from the back. Her dark curly hair streaked with gray is pinned up into a bun like mine, her fry cook apron pristine. Her easy grin puts me on edge as much as Amy’s piercing gaze does.
Her perpetual good mood just highlights how dark my own is.
“It’s good to see you, honey.” She talks like she was born in the south—everyone is honey or sugar or sweetheart to her.
“Good to see you.”
“You coming to dinner at our place sometime soon?”
It’s harder to say no to Jodi than it is with Amy. Jodi’s not pressuring me to break out of my shell, she’d just genuinely like to see me at their place again. She likes my company, such as it is. Which is a pressure all of its own.
“Probably not.”
“That’s okay.” She smiles wider. She worked at the post office here before she took over fry cook duties at the diner with Amy. I’m not sure it’s possible to dampen her friendliness. “You’re here now.”
“Mmm.” Doesn’t seem like much of a consolation prize.
“Have you thought about joining us for the Fourth Fest in a few weeks? I heard the fireworks are going to be something else. We’ve got a new gal running the whole show. The parade’s supposed to be even bigger, too.”
“I don’t know yet.” I do know—I’m not going. But I’m not jerk enough to say that to Jodi’s face when she’s only trying to draw me out.
She rests a hand on my forearm and gently squeezes. “I have to get back to it, but I wanted to tell you I’m glad you’re here.”
Because coming into a diner is such a big deal. For me, lately, it has been.
“Thanks, Jodi.”
She nods, her gaze almost too soft as she lets me go. I think she might say something more, but she must see the futility of it, and returns to the back kitchen.
I get about three minutes with my thoughts—which are a mess, FYI—before a man sits down next to me. And I mean right next to me, even though there are plenty of empty barstools farther down the line. I don’t look directly at him, but I don’t have to. I can tell already what this guy is.
A fan.
Before the accident, my brothers and I had some popularity around Durango, and I ate up the attention I got. People could stop me in a restaurant, at my mailbox, on the street, I didn’t care. The fact that I had anything remotely close to fame as a mountain guide blew me away.
To be fair, it wasn’t all about climbing. Interest in me exploded after Vance Vickers hired me to guide him through one of Colorado’s wilderness areas. The blockbuster actor used the two-week trek as research for some Man vs. Nature Oscar-contender film he had in the works. I’d seen it as a nice-paying guiding gig at the time, but it brought more recognition than I’d ever anticipated.
Ironic that I fell asleep when I tried to watch the movie. Dying alone in the snow would have been more entertaining than enduring that flick.
Even so, he’d talked me up in every interview he did for that movie. When he thanked me in his speeches for all the awards he won that year, I was suddenly on every famous actor’s contact list when they wanted a vacation of roughing it in the mountains. Magazines, newspapers, and podcasts came calling. Me being me, I always answered.
But after the accident? The attention took on a different bent. Would I be willing to do an interview about disabled athletes? Could I participate in a panel on near-death experiences? Did I have any interest in being a spokesman for speed limit reforms? No thank you all around.
And fans…let’s just say they have all the subtlety of the motorcycle accident that landed me here in the first place.
The man next to me clears his throat, but I don’t acknowledge him. He’ll either take the hint and shuffle off, or…I’ll have to send him on his way.
“Ian Vaughn?” he says.
“Nope,” I say before taking a big bite of my burger.
The man chuckles. “I’ll leave you alone if you want?—”
“Good.”
His chuckle expands into a laugh. “My name’s Nathan Bridger.”
His hand appears in my peripheral vision, but I ignore it.
“No autographs today,” I grumble. I never really was a celebrity in my own right, and I’m even less than that now.
“But a selfie’s fine?”
I turn to find him grinning at me, empty hands raised as though claiming innocence. “I won’t. But I wanted to talk to you for a minute if you don’t mind.”
I glance over Nathan, but there’s nothing obviously worrisome about him. Probably a good ten years younger than I am, short dark hair, tattoos snaking down both arms, eyes bright. I wipe my mouth with a napkin and gesture for him to continue.
Might as well cap off this day with a request for a private guide I can’t fulfill. Or an attempt to get Vance Vickers’s personal information. Either way, Nathan’s going home disappointed.
We both are, pal.
“I work for Backcountry EMT, I don’t know if you’ve heard of it.” He pauses, and I shake my head. “We provide medics for things like festivals, concerts, and remote athletic events across the state, as well as traditional emergency services.”
My food sits uncomfortably in my gut. This is worse than any autograph hound.
“I don’t know how long you’re thinking of staying in the area,” he goes on, “but if it’s long-term, we’d love to have you consider joining our team.”
He’s recruiting me for a job? Is he serious?
“Why me?”
My curt challenge seems to invigorate him. “No reason. Only that you’re a Wilderness EMT. Have AMGA certifications in alpine, ice, and rock climbing. And you have more hours on a mountainside than anybody else in this state.”
It’s a stretch, but the guy’s done his research. Except for one small problem. “Haven’t you heard? I’m not in that business anymore.”
I keep saying it, but it’s not entirely true. My brothers would argue I’m still very much in the business, simply on extended leave. Personally…I’m not sure what I am. But a refusal is easiest when I’m trying to finish my dinner.
His gaze drops to my leg—the wrong leg, but it tells me enough.
“I heard. That shouldn’t be an issue.”
“You’re awfully confident.”
“It’s a curse.” His grin says he’s well aware.
I used to have the same cocky smile. Until my accident wiped it away.
“I know this is a poor way to ask if you’d ever consider working with us, but I had to take the chance. If you’re heading back to Durango, no worries, but a little birdie told me you might consider staying in town if you had the right motivation.”
Of course she did. “Is that little birdie named Amy?”
“Might be.”
I look around the diner until I find her hovering over a booth. She glances at me and dips her head, both confirming this is all her doing and pushing me harder toward her goal. Maybe I should be flattered she wants me to stay in town so badly, but an EMT job? Do either of them know what they’re asking?
“If she’s wrong, don’t sweat it. If she’s not…” He slides a business card over to me slick as anything. “It’s something to think about.”
I glance at the card, the red Backcountry EMT logo blaring up at me. I will not be thinking about it. That’s not even close to what I ever did. My EMT certifications were a safety precaution, not a career path. And if he knows anything about my accident, he’s already aware safety was a moving target for me.
“And hey, if you’re ever bored some night and want to hang out and talk, I’d be down for that, too. My number’s on the back. No pressure.”
This guy is way too eager. I nod acknowledgement of the offer but don’t so much as hint that I might take him up on it. Pretty sure I haven’t hung out with anyone since before…well, since before.
He pats the countertop and spins on the barstool to leave, but pauses. “Seriously, it’s a thrill to meet you, dude. Reading articles about you in Crux is part of what got me into climbing, and eventually wilderness first response. Is it too much if I say you were my hero?”
I press my lips together. “A bit.”
Nathan grins wide and slips away.
In the next moment, Amy moves in front of me to gather up my plate and empty glass, subtle as a sledgehammer.
“He just called me old,” I tell her.
“Out of the mouths of babes…”
I snag the last couple of fries off my plate before she can whisk it away. “You’re telling people I’m looking for work now?”
“Just him.” She hitches a shoulder. “And Mitchell Choi. And the volunteer Search and Rescue team lead.”
This woman is relentless.
“Anybody else? Is there a dance troupe in town you gave my name to?”
She leans on the counter, chin in hand. “Don’t give me ideas. I’d love to see that.”
My stern look doesn’t seem to affect her. “Stop meddling.”
“It’s small-town life. Everybody’s got their fingers in everyone else’s pies.”
“Leave my pie alone.”
Her gaze is full of sisterly affection. “I love you too much to do that.”
I grumble, but I guess I knew what I was in for when I came out here. Escaped my brothers but landed on Amy’s radar.
Hold up.
“Is that why you put Tess next door to me? So she can…what, assist you with your meddling?” By bringing me cupcakes and talking to me like I’m a person and smiling so hard it makes something under my ribs hurt?
Staring at me like I’m some kind of alien thing today probably wasn’t part of the plan.
“Yes.” Amy has no shame.
“You actually meant for her to keep an eye on me?” I don’t need a babysitter. Worse, the thought that Tess’s smiles and attempts to be neighborly were all just for show makes my stomach sink like I’m scrambling down a mountainside.
“Maybe I hoped you could keep an eye on each other.”
I don’t know why she thinks Tess needs someone looking out for her, and I can’t ask. I might not have minded the job, but I don’t have the heart to tell Amy her grand scheme already failed. She’ll find out soon enough—probably when Tess comes to her to let her know she wants to move out.