“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.”
