Chapter 2
Two
Gentry
Checking the time on my watch, I heave a sigh as I continue to run through the list of everything that still needs to be done before the day is over. It’s a long one, and sitting in this fucking room isn’t helping to get any of it completed.
It’s a quarter till one.
My appointment was at noon.
But if I was even five minutes late, I would’ve gotten an earful from Peggy, the receptionist, as soon as I got here, and probably would’ve had to reschedule.
It’s bullshit. And a waste of my time.
A few minutes later, there’s finally a knock on the door a moment before it pushes open and Dr. Kroye strolls in. He’s been my doctor for the last ten or so years, when he took over the practice once his father retired. Dr. Calvin Kroye Sr. had been my physician since I was a boy.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Moore,” he greets, taking a seat on the round, spinning chair in front of the computer in the corner. “It’s been a while since we saw each other last. I was surprised to see your name on the schedule.”
I grumble by way of response, wanting to get this over with so I can get back to the ranch.
It’s not a lie or an exaggeration that ranchers and farmers typically don’t go to the doctor unless they’re dying or something has been chopped off.
I can think of a dozen other things I could be doing right now other than sitting on this uncomfortable bed with the crinkling paper in this room that’s entirely too cold and white.
I didn’t want to make this appointment to begin with, and I wouldn’t have, had it not been for the fact that the pain in my hands and wrists isn’t going away and it’s becoming seemingly harder to do what I need to do every day.
After Dr. Kroye asks me a series of questions, that the nurse already went through when I got here, he spins in the chair until he’s facing me, and folds his hands together, letting them hang between his knees as he levels me with a stare.
“Look, Gentry. I’m gonna give it to you straight because I know you’re antsy to get out of this office.”
“Please do,” I mutter.
“You’ve been hard on your hands for decades.
You’ve put in a lot of years on that ranch, and your body has carried more weight and done more work than most people can imagine.
The kind of pain you’re feeling doesn’t just ‘work itself out.’ Your body is telling you it’s time to adjust how you’ve been going all this time. ”
“What do you mean, adjust? That ranch is my livelihood."
“I know, and I’m not saying you have to stop ranching.” He chuckles. “We both know you wouldn’t listen anyway.”
I huff. “Hit the nail on the head with that one, Doc.”
“But if you keep pushing like you have been, you’re going to lose more mobility, and permanently. I don’t want to see that happen.”
“So, what are you saying?”
“Here’s what I’m recommending: Slow down.
Delegate more if you can. Lean on those boys of yours.
” He pauses, then smiles faintly. “In addition to that, I also want you to try something that promotes controlled movement. And before you roll your eyes at me and storm out of here like I’m crazy, I want you to really consider it, because believe it or not, I do know what I’m talking about sometimes. ”
“Well, get on with it, would ya,” I grumble, already not liking where this is going.
Then he opens his mouth and says the one word I was least expecting.
“Pottery.” My lips part, but before I have a chance to argue, he continues.
“I know, I know. It’s a far cry from branding irons and fence posts.
But the motions are controlled, gentle, and incredibly good for fine motor strength.
It’ll keep your hands working without tearing them up even more. ”
“Doc, you can’t be serious. Pottery?”
“Oh, I’m very serious.” He chuckles. “It’ll feel strange at first, but it’s actually one of the best therapies for dexterity and strength. Think of it as retraining your grip instead of losing it.”
Annoyance rips through my chest. “Respectfully, Doc, coming here today was a waste of time,” I say as I plant my feet on the floor and stand.
“There’s a hundred things I need to get done, and this took up an hour and a half of the day I can’t get back.
As I said before, that ranch is my livelihood.
I can’t just ‘slow down,’ nor do I think taking up arts and crafts is going to help me. ”
Dr. Kroye’s gaze softens as he stands. “Believe it or not, Gentry. A lot of tough, stubborn ranchers, just like yourself, end up really enjoying it.”
“I’m good, but thanks.”
“Just think about it,” he presses. “I’ll include the name of a place in town that offers great beginner classes with the paperwork Mary-Lynn gives you before you leave. They even offer evening classes. Perfect for your schedule.”
I’m already shaking my head. “That won’t be necessary.”
“I know, but I’m including it anyway,” he says as he opens the door. “Just in case you change your mind.”
What a waste of fucking time.
After I get the paperwork and decline scheduling a follow-up appointment, I leave the office, feeling more aggravated than when I got here.
Checking the time again, I decide to stop by the diner for a quick bite to eat before I head back home.
It’s Tuesday, which means it’s Reuben sandwich day—my favorite.
Once I get there, it’s a little busier than I would’ve liked, but I take a seat at the counter. Because she knows me, the server brings me a Diet Dr. Pepper and lets me know she already put in my sandwich order, so hopefully it won’t take too long.
I replay everything the doctor said to me, and the longer I think about it, the more annoyed I become. Pottery? What kind of asinine suggestion was that? I’d laugh at the idea of me doing something like that if it wasn’t so ridiculous.
“Well, well, well. Look who it is.” Sliding into the seat beside me, my son’s best friend stares at me with a wide-toothed grin that makes dimples appear on either side of his mouth. “Daddy Moore, what’re you doin’ here?”
“Remington, I’ve told you before,” I grumble. “Do not call me that.”
“Oh, hittin’ me with the full name today, huh?” He nudges me in the arm. “Kinda like the sound of that.”
I clench my jaw and fight the urge to roll my eyes.
“Hey, baby, what can I get ya?” the server asks, practically batting her eyelashes at him.
He smiles, completely oblivious to it. “A club sandwich and fries would be amazing.”
“And to drink?”
“Water’s fine.” He glances over at me as she walks off. “Where’re you comin’ from?”
“That’s not really any of your business,” I mutter. I’m not in the mood to chit-chat with anybody, especially someone as talkative as Remington.
“I just left the firehouse,” he offers, also oblivious to my unwelcoming demeanor. “Hey, since you’re here, can I talk to you about somethin’? I’m meetin’ Hollis later tonight to talk about it, but fuck, I really gotta get this off my chest, like now.”
Oh, Lord.
“Do I have a choice?” I drawl before taking a sip of my soda.
“You know that funeral Ford and I went to a few months ago?” he asks, and I nod.
“Ricky Murphy was the guy, and I met his son when we were gettin’ ready to leave.
He’s thirteen. I told him I know exactly what he’s going through since I was his age when my dad died too, and I told him if he ever needed anything to come find me at the station. ”
“That was nice of you,” I say. “I’m sure he appreciated that.”
“Well, he showed up at the firehouse lookin’ for me today.” Remington shifts in his chair so he’s fully facing me. “He asked if he could come live with me.”
My brows pinch. “What?” I don’t know what I expected him to say, but it certainly wasn’t that.
“Yeah. I guess his grandma, who he’s been livin’ with since his dad died, is movin’ all the way to North Dakota in a couple months, and she said if he found somewhere legitimate to stay, he didn’t have to come with her. That’s nuts, right? He’s thirteen!”
“Wow,” I huff. That is nuts… But at the time, it makes sense why the kid would ask Remington.
The server drops off my Reuben, then lets Remington know his will be out in a minute.
“So, what did you say?” I ask. “To the kid.”
“Lukas,” he offers. “That’s his name. And I told him I needed some time to think about it. I mean, it’s a big ask, and we don’t even know each other. And he’s a kid! I can’t do that, right?”
“I don’t know what you’re askin’ me for,” I say with a small chuckle. “It ain’t my house he’ll be stayin’ in. And based on the fact that you didn’t tell him no straight away, I’d say there’s a part of you that’s considerin’ it. Am I wrong?”
In all the years I’ve known Remington, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so torn. It’s clearly weighing on him.
“I feel for him, you know? After my dad died, the last thing I would’ve wanted was to be uprooted.
Lukas has lived in Wilbur his whole life.
And yeah, Wolf Creek isn’t Wilbur, but at least he wouldn’t have to switch schools and make all new friends.
” He runs a hand through his hair. “But he’s a thirteen-year-old kid.
What the hell do I know about being a good…
father figure? That’s what I would be, right?
I don’t know the first thing about being a good anything to a teenager. ”
He gets on my nerves nine times out of ten, with his constant flirting and sarcastic remarks, but hearing him fight with himself about what he should do, admittedly, tugs on my heartstrings. So much so, that I say something I never expected to say to him.
“You’re a good man, Remington. The fact that you’re even considerin’ letting this kid you barely know stay with you speaks volumes about your character.”
“Wow, thanks,” he murmurs. “That’s…oddly nice comin’ from you.”
“Yeah, well, don’t expect it to happen again.
” A deep chuckle rumbles from my chest. “But look at it this way: who better to take in this thirteen-year-old boy, who just lost his father in a fire, than you? Like you told him, you know what he’s goin’ through; you’ve been there.
You may be exactly what he needs to get through this time in his life. ”
“Hmph, I didn’t think of it like that.”
“And yeah, it sounds a little nuts, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it… Only if you want to. But from over here, it kind of sounds like you do.”
“What if I fail?” he asks, concern shining in his eyes. “What if I let him down? I don’t know anythin’ about him, nor does he know the first thing about me.”
“Nobody says this has to be a permanent thing. It sounds like if it doesn’t work out, he has a place in North Dakota with his grandma.
But you can’t let fear stand in your way.
If this is somethin’ you feel inclined to do, then do it.
It’s not like you don’t have the space in your life to do it, and again, you can relate to him and help get him through it. ”
He ponders my words for a moment. I can practically see the wheels turning in his mind. “Thanks, Gentry,” he says genuinely after a minute. “That actually helped… a lot.”
Now, if only I could help myself.
“Good, then let me eat the rest of my meal in peace.”
Remington’s food arrives not long after, and aside from some small talk or commentary about his food, he actually does leave me alone.
Once I’m finished, I end up paying both tabs before I leave.
Comforting my son’s best friend was the last thing I expected to do today.
But I have to admit… It sure did wonders on getting my mind off that absurd doctor’s appointment.
Pottery. I huff a breath. How fucking ridiculous.
Hell would freeze over before I ever did something like that.