My gaze cuts to Gunner as he works. “I have.”
He pauses, shoulders tense, before continuing. “I’d miss you, but I’d be happier that you found someone.” He clears his throat before turning to me. “Not that you need my permission or anything. You already know I want you to find your happiness.”
“Softie.” I reach out and shove him playfully.
“Don’t you dare tell a soul.” He laughs.
After we’ve finished with the horses, Gunner says his goodbyes, and I walk to my truck. The guesthouse stands empty with noJeep parked in the yard, but a paper sits on the windshield tucked under a wiper blade of my truck.
Colt,
Sorry I didn’t text. I didn’t want to risk it not going through. Something came up, and I’ve gone to Fort Collins. I’ll be home late tonight.
Love,
Ethan
Folding the note, I tuck it in my pocket before sliding behind the wheel. Do I call him or wait for him to get home? Why didn’t he even tell me how it went with Jesse?
As I drive down the familiar road, my thoughts turn to my mother. I was just a kid when she died, but I remember how the people kept her memory alive for me until I was strong enough to do it on my own.
Mom had something she always said when we had a rough day. She’d ruffle my hair and tell me that even though we had a bad day, someone else had a worse one. At the time, I thought it made no sense, but as I grew, I understood what she meant.
The green fields and leafy trees I love are showing the change of season. Greens are slowly shifting to oranges. It’s patchy, but there’s enough to notice. As I drive toward home, so many things tangle in my mind. Mom’s words, the impending season change, and whatever happens with Ethan.
Instead of going into the apartment after I park. I walk over to Your Fly is Down. The open sign is still on even at the later hour. Chris ties flies all day and never turns down a chatty customer with a coffee. The only time he’s closed is when he’s actually asleep.
Entering the small shop, I’m immediately comforted by the fly-tying supplies that almost swallow me in the small space.
“Well, hello, Colt. I haven’t seen you for a while.” He holds up a container full of flies. “I know you’ve been busy because after you used the last custom fly, my requests for it are non-stop. Five more to tie and then I’ll ship them out.”
“Ah…yes, that one did really well. Maybe it’s the color?”
“Could be. I read an article about fish and eyesight recently. Something about how their eyes don’t always go for colors.” He sets his magnifying loops down and stands to stretch. “Something tells me you’re not here to talk about fly-fishing, though.”
With a sigh, I shake my head as I browse the new floating line section.
“I didn’t want to go home to an empty apartment. My mind won’t stop thinking of shit.”
The sound of Chris cracking the tab of a can sounds, and when I look back, he’s holding up a beer. “Lock the door and sit, Colt.”
After locking the door and flipping the sign, he offers me a beer, but I decline. Chris leans on the counter and pulls the chair from his workbench for me.
“Ethan was here earlier.”
“What? Why?”
“I’m not sure, but he asked about you. Said if you came here tonight to tell you to not worry, and he has a plan.”
“He should have told me that and not you,” I grumble, but somehow I like that he knew I’d be here.
“Maybe.” He takes a drink. “I found it interesting that he knew you’d come here, though. I’m not sure what he was getting at, but…. here you are.”
Ethan knows I like to talk to Chris. Since his shop is so close to the apartment, it’s not exactly a stretch to think I’d comehere. When the fishing season is peak, I’m here a lot. Ethan often finds me here.
But to deliver a message through Chris is new.
“I think if I have to stay here without him, it will break my heart. I’ve always thought I could never leave here because of the memories. The town is like a family member, you know? Other than Uncle Albert, it’s all I have, but Ethan…he’s more than that, I think.”
