8. Ethan
Ethan
“I’m so stuffed, Colt. That was indeed one of the best burgers of my life.”
“I told you they were good.”
Colt sips from his beer and absently rubs at his stomach. The food was incredible, but not as much as my company. I wasn’t sure how he’d react to the note on his windshield, but as each day passed that I worked and didn’t talk to Colt, I had to admit it wasn’t just because I was lonely.
If I were lonely, there were people around the ranch all the time.
The bunkhouses were a short walk, and I’d had an invitation from a few to join them in the evenings, but it felt weird.
My mind was stuck on Colt, and I wanted to know him in a way I couldn’t find words to express. Which isn’t the norm for me.
I’m an articulate person. It comes with the territory, but not when it involves Colt, it seems.
“Are you happy with your cheese choice?” Colt teases as he drains the rest of his beer.
“Immensely. I’d never think a place like this would have such an amazing burger. The gooey cheese was honestly some of the best I’ve ever had.”
“I know it’s a small place, but there are a lot of good things here.”
Colt’s gaze meets mine, and I wonder if he’s had a shitty ex like me, and that’s why he’s so quiet. There’s definitely something he holds back.
“What do people do here in the evenings?”
Colt shrugs. “Not much. We keep inside in the winter if you don’t enjoy skiing.
In the summer, I work most of the time. That’s when things pick up.
” He brightens. “Actually, the library has a lot of activities like making jewelry or paint nights. Other than that…” He shrugs again, almost embarrassed that he either doesn’t know about social events in his town or has never been to any.
“That’s okay. I’m here long enough that I’m sure I’ll get to them eventually.”
I hope maybe Colt might even want to join me. Community events might sound a little lame, but I’ve always enjoyed the way people come together in smaller centers. Cities might have a more diverse mix of options, but sometimes it’s the smaller groups that make it so much more rewarding.
“We could walk to the park if you like?” Colt offers this softly, like he’s not sure if I’d like it. “Snow Creek flows through it, and it’s pretty.”
“Yeah, but has the lawn been mowed yet?” I laugh, remembering how I came about the information, talking to people in the diner and not from Colt.
Colt grins at my poke and relaxes more. “Not quite time for mowing, but let’s go.”
The drive doesn’t take long, and Colt parks in the same parking lot where I spoke to my mom a few days ago. It’s dark, but the moon is incredibly full and bright as it shines into the park.
“I used to come to the river and skip rocks a lot when I was a kid. Have you ever done that?”
Our shoes crunch across the gravel lot as we move past the playground.
“Maybe a few times. If we went to the park, it didn’t have a river. I’d get on a swing if they had any and pump my legs until I couldn’t make the swing go any higher. You know when you’re so high you get lightheaded and maybe a little scared, but you keep pumping your legs, anyway?”
Colt nudges me with his shoulder. “I thought you were afraid of heights,” he teases.
“I wasn’t until you brought it up. Actually, I’m probably not afraid. You just gave me something to really think about that day, is all.”
He hums softly as we walk on a small path through the trees.
It’s lined with wood chips and a sign reading, ‘Please poop and scoop’, with a bag of dog waste bags attached to it at the entrance.
The path spills us out onto the riverbank after a few minutes.
The shining moon and gentle quiet at this time of night immediately strike me as something Colt would enjoy.
“Skipping rocks was my thing because…” He pauses for a beat as he bends to pick a few stones, then stands and offers me one. “I liked to think each stone would carry the bad stuff away. It calmed my thoughts after my mom died.”
Colt drops the flat stone into my palm and turns toward the river. With a bent elbow, he fires the stone over the water, and after four skips, it sinks. He turns to me with a half smile. “I guess I’ve still got it.”
I try to do what Colt did and throw the stone, but it splashes in the water without a skip. He passes me another one, this time showing me how to hold it with my finger and thumb. “It’s like a flick. It kind of has to roll off your finger.”
He demonstrates, and I try again. It’s another splash with no skip.
“How old were you?” I ask when he hands me another flat stone.
Colt flings his stone, and it skips three times before stopping.
“I was ten. She went to the city for medical tests and never came home.” He pauses and skips a few more stones.
I give him space and search for a few of my own.
“She was hiding her illness for a long time. I went with her that day, thinking she’d be in and out.
” He flings another stone, and it skips so fast across the water I can’t count how many times it skips.
“She, uh, had a brain tumor, and when she had a seizure at the hospital, she never woke up after.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, because it needs to be acknowledged, but what else do you say to that?
I imagine a ten-year-old Colt waiting for his mother in the hospital while he didn’t know he’d just had his last hug, his last conversation…
his last everything with her and I have to blink away the tears that threaten to fall.
“Me too.” He adjusts my arm before I try the next throw. “It’s like a slingshot. Just let your elbow be loose and…fling.” There’s a small laugh from him as he steps back. This time, my throw gets a single skip, and I whoop.
“Yay! I got one!”
We keep alternating turns skipping. Each time Colt watches, he gives me pointers and keeps skipping rocks like a pro.
“I can see why this was helpful. It’s a lot to think about, and you don’t let your mind wander much.”
He hums in agreement. “Exactly. I was very much an anxious child. I spent a lot of time with my mom. Teased at school about it.” He offers me a twisted smile. “The anxiety was worse after that, as you can imagine.”
“Can I ask about your dad? How did he handle it?”
Colt turns to me in the moonlight with a half smile. Not a happy one, but one that projects the inside thoughts of a ten-year-old boy missing his mother.
“I didn’t know him. Mom got pregnant, and he didn’t stick around.
She told my uncle once that it didn’t matter, but I think she was always sad he didn’t stay, you know?
” He kicks at the dirt with the toe of his boot.
“My Uncle Albert raised me. He’s twenty years older than my mom, so you can expect it was a shock for him to gain custody of his nephew and grieve his little sister all at once. ”
Parts of Colt’s demeanor click into place with this revelation, and I wonder how many people know this about him. Obviously, the townspeople would know about what happened, but do they know how it’s affected him all these years?
“He’s a wonderful man to do that. Are you close?”
Now his smile is full and happy. “Yeah. He’s awesome.
I call him Uncle Albert, but he’s like a dad, and he always felt like that, even when my mom was still around.
It was a change for him, though. He went from the fun uncle to being a full-time parent at 48, almost overnight.
We were lost with each other for a while. ”
He shakes his head, like he wants to clear himself of the sad memories. “Sorry to bring our night down. I didn’t mean to spill all that on you, but I can…I can trust you with it?” He ends with a question, and I immediately settle what I think might be in his head.
“Yes, you can, Colt. This isn’t social media material. Don’t worry about that. I’d never use something so personal. That’s not what my job is.”
He nods and skips a few rocks while I watch, and figure I should share with him after he’d been so open and raw with me.
“I took this contract to put distance between me and a man who broke my heart.” Colt stands still with his back to me, and I continue. “You asked me when we met if I missed having a home, and I wasn’t truthful. I’ve struggled for the past few months, adjusting to life without one.”
“I’m sorry.”
Colt’s phrase echoes mine, and I smile even though he can’t see. He doesn’t need to know the details of my messy breakup and a sad tale about falling fast and hard for the wrong man.
“Do you want to get a cream soda?” I ask.
“Yeah.” Colt nods. “Let’s go to the gas station. It’s still open.”
He skips one last rock before we leave, and it skips six times before sinking.
I want the night to keep going, but Colt’s yawns are coming more frequently, and I don’t want him to lose sleep before work. I can work at any time, but he can’t.
“We should probably call it a night. You’ve been awake for a long time.”
We’ve been sitting on the tailgate of his truck, drinking cream soda and sharing stories about growing up. It’s honestly one of the most fulfilling nights I’ve had with another person in a very long time.
There’s a rawness to it that’s cathartic in a way. The more we talk, the more I realize my ex never listened the way Colt does. Perhaps I was blinded by all the glamor, like my mom said. Choosing to equate the depth of his feelings with the price tags of his gifts.
Colt’s sleepy smile confirms my thoughts of him being exhausted.
“You’re right. I should definitely get to sleep.” He pauses and inhales deeply. “Would it be okay for me to say I wish tonight didn’t have to end? Or is that too much?”
I love how he’s opened up so much in the last few hours. It’s been nice to talk like this. I usually talk to my mom when life gets too deep, but another man with his own wounds provides a different balm. Perhaps one that might provide the last healing I need to move on.
“Yeah, because I feel the same. This has been an amazing night, Colt.”
He pushes off the tailgate, all smooth and effortless as I wiggle to the front for a less graceful thump.
Colt’s hand appears and, without a thought, I take it as I push off the tailgate.
It’s not a big deal. I’m an adult, and it’s the back of a truck, but somehow Colt doesn’t make me feel embarrassed about being awkward about it.
“Thanks.”
His hand lingers on mine before letting go. “You’re welcome.”
It’s a quiet drive back to the ranch, and I keep an eye on Colt since I’m nervous he might have been more tired than he let on, and he still needs to drive back into town to his place.
He drives right up to the guesthouse and pulls alongside my Jeep. Before I can turn to him, he’s out of the truck and around the front, opening my door before I can even pull the handle.
“Um, thank you.” He nods, and I slide out and stand next to him. “Thank you, Colt. This was a great night.”
“It was.”
God, I want to kiss him or have him kiss me, but he pushes me to the side and opens the truck door again.
“You, ah…you said you want to learn to fly fish, right?”
“Yes, of course. It looks bad ass.”
It really does!
He thrusts a paper bag at me, and even in the moonlight, I notice the flush rise on his cheeks. “I got you something. Just because, ah, it’s helpful for fishing. It’s one of my favorites.”
Opening the bag, I pull out a tan colored vest full of mesh pockets and snaps. Sadly, I don’t know what it is or what it has to do with fishing.
“Okay, so first. Thank you very much. But second…I don’t know what this is.”
After a beat of silence, we both laugh, and Colt motions for me to pass it to him.
“It’s a fly-fishing vest. All the pockets are for flies or stashing line for when it breaks.
You can carry extra spools of line. Your pliers can click on the carabiner here or a fish net.
” Colt presses his lips together, and a slight flush appears on his neck.
God, he’s adorable. “It’s useful, and I have one like it I wear all the time. ”
“Could I keep snacks in the pockets?” I tease, and Colt shrugs.
“I’m sure you could.” He passes me back the vest but doesn’t let go.
“This one is different from mine and has this larger pocket here.” His fingers dust over mine as he turns the vest to show me the pocket.
“It’s big enough for a cell phone. I checked.
You could still take your phone and not miss the pictures you like. ”
“Oh. That’s…”
I don’t know what to say because it’s extremely thoughtful, and I’m absolutely touched that he thought of me this way. It’s not a flashy name-brand pair of shoes or VIP tickets to a concert. It’s thoughtful and about me.
“I can take you in two days if you’d like?”
“Yes!”
I might seem overly excited, but it masks the emotions swirling over his unexpected gesture.
Colt smiles and walks backward around his truck to the driver’s side.
“Goodnight, Ethan.”
“Goodnight, Colt.”
He reverses and waves before he drives off, and I enter my cabin with the vest clutched against me.
I’ve had Trevor take me to the fanciest of restaurants, buy me expensive gifts, and even whisk me away for a long weekend at a tropical resort. Not one of those gifts meant as much as this vest.
It’s ugly as fuck. I suppose if I fish, I’d love it like Colt does, and maybe in time I will. Right now, though, I love it because it’s thoughtful. Sliding my phone into the pouch, I laugh softly.
It’s a perfect fit.