Page 61 of Seale the Deal

Whoa. Wait. What is happening?

Is this supposed to feel like this?

We’re not even touching. We’re literally sitting as far apart on a couch as we can, watching television, and yet it feels different than our usual way of killing an hour before bed. When I think back over the evening, from the moment he walked through the door and I practically ran to tell him my news to smiling simply because I like the sound of his laugh, it’s becoming more apparent that we have a life together.

The realization sends me upstairs earlier than usual.

I change into my pyjamas and crawl beneath the covers before staring up at the ceiling, trying to make pictures in the ridges of texture. It’s just another distraction, and it makes me wonder if the costume alterations are one too. Something to keep my hands busy while my brain figures out why I like these simple moments with Ruger and why I wish there were more.

Chapter 9

Ruger

DAYS LEFT ON VISA: 70

I’m sitting at the conservation office, filling out a report after some idiot decided to throw scraps out the window of their RV to a young bear near town. Based on the size, it looked like one that just left its mom in the spring, meaning it’s more likely for it to become food conditioned. Combine that with it being fall, when bears are trying to consume as many calories as possible, and it worries me. The last thing we ever want to do is destroy an animal, especially when it’s human caused. Luckily, the bear hasn’t been hanging around town, but now we have to be on high alert for it, and I hope it stays true to its animal instincts.

But even as I worry about the young bear, my mind can’t stop thinking about Wrenley. It’s like every day I’m at work, I spend more time looking at the clock than focusing on the actual work I need to get done. Even now, I’m thinking about our evening routine and what I’m going to make her.

The front door opens, and I look up to see Agnes shuffling in.

Ruger! she yells, which is pretty standard Agnes volume these days now that she can’t hear herself.

Hi, Agnes. What can I do to help you? I say loudly, carefully enunciating every word.

Agnes squints at me. No, I don’t want kelp, she hollers back as she reaches my desk. I’m here to see my son.

If there’s one thing about this town, it’s that there isn’t much shuffle in the folks who live here year-round. Her son, Eugene, has been the administrative assistant here for more than half my life. My dad was a conservation officer before me, and I remember Eugene being the fun guy in the office, and that hasn’t changed since I started here. He always has a joke or funny story.

He also has his mom, Agnes, who is a great woman, but based on this short interaction, it’s not exactly surprising the municipal building asked her to retire.

He’s in the back.

My cat? Agnes frowns. Hester died years ago.

I close my eyes briefly, trying to think what I can say that won’t get confused.

Your son, I repeat louder. Eugene. He’s having lunch.

Oh! Agnes waves a hand, finally understanding me. Well, why didn’t you say that?

I just smile, stand, and guide Agnes toward the break room, where Eugene is halfway through a sandwich.

Mom?

I leave immediately before I get trapped in another conversation, sitting back down at my desk and shaking my head with a chuckle.

You alright there?

I look up to see my boss, Darrell, standing in the doorway of his office, mug of coffee in hand.

Yeah, I mutter. Just Agnes.

We both pause, listening to the muffled yelling still coming from the break room behind me.

Darrell sighs and steps further into the bullpen. There are only four desks in here, and they’re rarely all full at the same time. One of them has become the place where old computer parts go to collect dust under the guise of recycling.

Her retirement has certainly brought some entertainment to this place, he says.