Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Hunter
I’m playing with Clementine’s hands, the two of us nestled together on the hospital bed.
I’ve never been able to sit still so I’m running the tips of my fingers over her soft, bony knuckles, over the tendons in her hands, again and again.
Sliding my fingers between hers, squeezing them, letting them go.
“I’ve got something to get excited about,” she says at last, her voice slow and lazy.
“What?” I ask.
She flexes her hand as I stroke over her knuckles again, her fingers twisting against mine.
“I’ve got a double bed,” she says. “It’s actually big enough for two adults to sleep in.”
I smile into her hair, because I feel a little like a kid on the first day of school, excited and nervous.
“I think we’ve done an admirable job with the available tools,” I say.
She laughs softly, then kisses the knuckles on one of my hands.
“I guess I should tell people about you,” she says. “They’re gonna be confused when I show up places holding hands with a tall buff guy they’ve never met.”
“I can’t believe you haven’t told anyone we’re together,” I tease.
“When was I gonna tell anyone?” she asks, laughing. “Hunter, I thought you’d fallen off the face of the earth until what, last week?”
“Is it because I embarrass you?”
“Yeah, it’s really horrible having to introduce my charming, former-Marine current-firefighter boyfriend to people,” she says. “I can just tell they’re thinking I could do better.”
“You forgot cowboy,” I point out.
“I should just tell people I’m lonely and I’ve hired a male prostitute,” she says. “Spare myself the shame.”
“No one would believe you,” I say, laughing into her hair. “I’d be way out of a forest ranger’s price range if I were a hooker.”
We’re both quiet for another moment.
“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” I say.
“I wish you were leaving with me,” she says quietly. “The real bed’s at my place.”
For a moment, she threads her fingers through mine looking thoughtful. I let her do it and watch.
“I’ve never done that,” I say, thoughtfully.
“Done what?”
“Woken up with you next to me.”
She stops for a moment, looks at our hands, and then starts again.
“The lookout was close,” she says.
“It wasn’t the same, though,” I say.
Before Clementine can answer, the door swings open and a column of light falls into the room.
It’s followed by my mother.
The moment she sees me and Clementine on the bed, she stops short. Her mouth comes open and for a second, she just stares.
Then she clears her throat.
“Clementine,” she says, her tone almost aggressively neutral.
Clementine’s frozen, my arms still around her, but when my mom says her name she pushes me off her and sits up.
“Hi, Mrs. Casden,” she says, and stands.
She’s still not wearing a bra. I get out of the bed behind her and put one hand on her lower back.
“I didn’t know you’d reconnected,” my mom says, giving me a look.
“My ranger division hosted Hunter’s hotshot crew in Lodgepole between assignments,” Clementine says, and grabs her jacket off the chair, shrugging it on.
“I see,” my mom says. She’s still standing just inside the entryway, wearing jeans, a turquoise belt, and a button-down white shirt, the picture of Western no-nonsense.
“She presented us with a plaque for containing the Elkhorn fire,” I say, fingertips rubbing a small circle on Clementine’s back. “We got dinner later, and...”
I shrug.
My mom nods once, brusquely. She’s being polite, but she’s never liked Clementine.
Eight years ago, she was certain that Clementine was ruining me, a perfectly good, church-going, all-American teenager.
And then we broke up while I was overseas, and I don’t think my mom’s forgiven her for making me go back to Afghanistan.
I get it. If someone broke my kid’s heart as hard as she broke mine, I’d have trouble welcoming them back.
“It’s nice to see you,” Clementine says, a forced smile on her face. “I should get going, though.”
“Lovely to see you again as well,” my mom says, and even though her tone is perfectly polite, not one person in this room thinks she’s telling the truth.
Clementine turns toward me, my hand still on her back.
“Call me?”
“I’ll walk you to the elevator,” I say, because I want to say goodbye to her without my mom watching.
We leave the room silently, and we’re a good fifty feet away, out of earshot, before Clementine just starts giggling.
“That felt familiar,” she says.
“I might get to their house to find all my stuff in the front yard,” I say. “That, or every single twenty-something from their church is gonna be in my living room.”
“It’s almost like there are downsides to living with your parents in your mid-twenties,” Clementine says as I push open the double door out of my wing.
I hold it for her, then grab her ass as she walks through. A guy on the other side gives me a very judgy look.
“I don’t live with my parents,” I say. “I work on their dude ranch for six months of the year, and like everyone else who works there, room and board is provided.”
“And you’re not allowed to have guests.”
“I choose to entertain guests elsewhere in order to keep the peace,” I say, turning the corner toward the elevator bank. “For example, in your bed.”
She stands on her toes and I kiss her.
“If I don’t hear from you within forty-eight hours, I’ll assume you’ve been forced into a re-education camp and report you missing,” she says.
“Thanks,” I say.
She gets on the elevator and I walk back to my room. I’m not looking forward to this. I knew it had to happen sometime, but I was planning on telling my parents tomorrow, with words, instead of just letting my mom find Clementine half-naked, in my bed, and probably reeking of sex.
My mom’s sitting in the armchair, her hands clasped on her crossed knees, staring distantly at a wall. I take a deep breath and lean against the sink.
“I’m not working at the dude ranch this winter,” I say. “I’m moving to Lodgepole.”
“Do you have a job there?”
“Not yet.”
I decided this three days ago, I think, but I don’t say it out loud.
“A place to stay?”
Here we go.
“I’m staying with Clementine until I get my own place,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.
My mom looks at me for a long, long time. Then she stands slowly and puts her purse on her shoulder.
“I know you think I don’t like her because she led you into sin,” she says.
“Mom, you know that—”
She holds up one hand and goes on, talking over me.
“That girl used you and then tossed you aside the moment things got a little difficult,” she says.
“That’s not what happened.”
“Well, that’s sure what it looked like,” she says. “Hunter, you’re grown, and I can’t stop you, but I can tell you to think twice before making the exact same mistakes that you did before.”
“I’m not.”
The expression on her face says that she doesn’t believe me, even a little bit, but I know when arguing is pointless.
When we broke up before, it’s not like I gave them a detailed account of everything that went down.
They just know that I joined the military, she went to college, and six months later I told them she dumped me.
“Call when you’re getting discharged,” she says. “I brought you some clothes, and I’ll come pick you up.”
She points to a chair, where there’s a neat stack.
“Thanks, Mom,” I say.
She steps forward and kisses me on the cheek, then leaves without saying anything else.
Three days later, I park my shitty, old truck outside Clementine’s house, grab my duffel bag, and walk up her porch steps. She pulls the door open before I can even knock and for a moment we both stand there, grinning like idiots.
Then a ball of yellow-and-white fur shoves past Clementine, nearly knocking her over, and jumps up, both paws right on my stomach.
“Oof!” I say, caught by surprise.
“Trout, get down,” Clementine says.
Trout gets off me and starts hopping up and down on her front paws.
“Trout, sit,” Clementine says.
Trout looks back at her, then at me again. Then she sits, slowly, her tail thumping the porch, staring at me like she has to tell me something really urgent.
Clementine waits about three seconds. Trout picks up one front paw at a time and moves them, like she’s fidgeting.
“Okay!” Clementine says, and Trout jumps to her feet and rams herself against my legs.
“Atta girl,” I say, bending down and thumping Trout hard. She wags her tail and throws her head back, clearly enjoying this.
“Do I get a greeting?” Clementine asks, leaning against the door frame. “I promise I’m wagging my tail on the inside.”
I laugh, leaning over Trout, and give Clementine a long hello kiss.
“Welcome to your temporary lodgings,” she says.
I step around Trout and walk inside, the dog close on my heels. I look around, realizing I’ve never actually been in Clementine’s house before.
“Mandy, Lucy, and I had a house meeting about you,” she says, keeping her voice low. “You get your own shelf in the fridge and we’re charging you rent after two weeks.”
“Fair,” I say.
She stops, then glances toward the living room, craning her neck around the corner. Then she pulls me back, out of sight, and whispers.
“Literally half the meeting was about the toilet seat,” she says. “For the love of God, please put it down. Please. They’ll murder you in your sleep.”
I laugh quietly and kiss her, lowering my duffel bag to the floor. I grab her hips and pull her against me, her body soft and yielding.
“I’m serious,” she says.
“I’m looking at a couple places this weekend,” I say. “And I promise not to horrify your roommates while I’m here. I wasn’t raised by wolves.”
She kisses me again, her body pressed against mine, and I’m glad I’m wearing jeans.
I’m just staying with Clementine and her roommates until I find a place. It’s not like I can just move in with her and her roommates, and even though I thought about suggesting we look for a place together, I know she doesn’t want to move quite that fast.
“I’ll give you a tour in a few minutes,” she says, pulling away. “There’s rules about which soap you can use in the shower.”
“Am I gonna have to take notes?” I ask.
Clementine laughs.
“Probably,” she says, and tugs on a belt loop with one finger. “But I’ll try to make it worth your while.”
“You could start now,” I murmur.
“Mandy and Lucy are in the living room,” she says. “Probably wondering what the fuck is taking us so long.”
“We could take longer.”
She doesn’t answer, just kisses me one more time, then grabs my hand and pulls me along.
“C’mon,” she says.