Gus #3
I finished up there just in time to make it to my appointment at the clinic, then I had to hit the bookstore, and finally, I needed clothes.
My patience was wearing thin by the time I made it to Wilson’s Outdoor Outfitters.
A man could only do so much peopling in one day, and I’d completed at least a month’s worth this morning.
I still had several books to read, and I’d promised Clementine a hike to her favorite stream as a thank-you for being so hospitable to our guest.
I hadn’t even fully crossed the threshold of the store when the shouts started.
“Patrick, get in here,” Mrs. Wilson hollered. “Gus Hebert is here.”
Mr. Wilson, a thin man with graying hair and wire-rimmed glasses, came out of the back room. “Damn, son, it’s been ages since we’ve seen you.”
My face heated. It’d been doing that far too much lately. I’d been busy, and the whole having a criminal as a father thing had kept me away from town in recent months. Some people were downright cruel, and others judged the hell out of the rest of us.
“I need some stuff,” I said gruffly. “Boots, jeans, whatever you’ve got.”
Beaming brightly, Mrs. Wilson clapped. “Wonderful. Because I think we sold you those Levi’s ten years ago.”
Lips pursed, I fought the urge to roll my eyes. So I wasn’t into clothes. Sue me. I had way more important stuff to deal with.
“We recently got some long inseams in,” Mr. Wilson said. “Let me go find the box.”
Mrs. Wilson bustled off, getting back to work organizing racks.
While I waited, I wandered, checking out the carefully organized outdoor gear and clothing.
The place had everything. The Wilsons clothed and supplied fishermen, hunters and loggers all over the region, and hopefully, once Finn’s flight tourism business got up and going, more people would be shopping here.
They were the best kind of people. The last few years had been difficult for them, but this place was a Lovewell institution. Where else could you buy a fly-fishing rod, a cashmere sweater, a cast-iron pot, and a diamond ring all in one store?
I grabbed a package of undershirts, new boxer briefs, and a thick brown leather belt.
Then I perused the summer weight flannels hanging on one wall.
I pulled a few down, including a light blue one I’d normally never wear.
I had a distant memory of Chloe saying she liked me in that color, so I might as well give it a try.
Deploying the famous Hebert blue eyes would be required for my mission, and I was ready to take any measure necessary.
Mr. Wilson came back with several pairs of jeans.
He looked down at my scuffed boots and wordlessly went back to the stockroom. When he emerged a few minutes later, he’d added a new pair of work boots to his haul.
“Timberlands, size fourteen? Steel toes for summer?”
I nodded. In my line of work, I went through work boots pretty fast. I could always use a new pair.
“I’ll take ’em. But, uh…” I rubbed at the back of my head, remembering too late that Becca had styled my hair. “Do you have anything dressier?”
Mr. Wilson gave me a confused frown. “Dressy shoes? I got boots, son.”
What a dumb question. I wasn’t a fancy shoe guy anyway.
With a tap of his chin, he hummed thoughtfully. “Actually. We’ve got some dark brown leather boots in the back. Good quality. Probably not good for the woods.”
Without waiting for a response, he took off, and a few minutes later, he came back with a large Timberland box and proudly displayed a chocolate brown boot.
They were nicer than a regular boot but still looked sturdy. Chloe cared a lot about shoes. I needed to impress her. “Excellent. Dress Tims.”
“I’m not sure there’s such a thing,” he said, his tone dubious.
“Now there is.” I took the box and my stack of clothes to the register.
I walked out, having spent the equivalent of a mortgage payment on new duds, but confident I’d be putting my best foot forward with Chloe. She was beautiful and fashionable, so I had to step it up.
There was one more, critically important, step in the plan. I sat in my truck, staring at my phone. I knew what had to be done, so with a shaky hand, I dialed Dr. Savard. It was time to get some tests done.
As I drove home, I found myself drumming my fingers on the steering wheel to a Zach Bryan song.
Last night had been full of the kind of magic that didn’t come along too often.
The banter, her electric touch, and the way she curled into me and slept.
I’d never known the kind of contentment I felt with her asleep in my arms even existed.
And I’d do damn near anything to make it permanent.
This was fate. I’d been alive long enough to know that second chances were rare. And I’d be taking advantage of mine.
I’d been miserable for too long. But I could see now why I’d been stuck. I’d been waiting for Chloe. Desperate to find the missing piece of my life that she’d taken with her when she left.
I wasn’t twenty anymore. I wasn’t wasting any more time trying to impress my dad or hers.
I was a grown man. I had my priorities and my values.
And I knew what I wanted.
Chloe.