Page 31 of Curves for the Mountain Man

My overgrown mugshot has been plastered everywhere over the past five days, to the point where I felt semi-relieved to be in jail. After all, how do you walk down the street when the court of public opinion has already found you guilty of kidnapping, sexual assault, and murder? So, getting cleaned up as Felix Harper suggested and radically altering my appearance is exactly what I need. At least until the media gets wind of the change and starts hounding me again.

I’ve also had a shower and changed into one of the outfits my mom packed for me. My heart overflows at the kindness and generosity of those around me despite my abrupt disappearance four years ago.

But I mean to make up for it now, and it starts with seeing Ginger and finding out if she still wants me or if the rush of emotions between us in the cave was only temporary. For my part, I’m ready to live and die by the feelings we cultivated together in less than twenty-four hours. An unbelievable, rash, and foolhardy proposition by the standards of the world. But I’ve never cared what the world thinks. Why start now?

During the cut, Alfonso noticed the thick scars running down the back of my neck and beneath my shirt, asking what happened to me. I shook my head, initially refusing to say more. But instead, I gave him the basics, realizing each retelling of the story not only heals a small piece of me but allows me to remember and commemorate my fallen comrades.

Now, he shakes his head and whistles in disbelief. “I should’ve taken before and after pictures. The transformation is wild.”

“Yeah, I don’t fucking recognize myself.”

“You’re getting lucky tonight, brah. Your girl’s gonna be all over you.”

This comment is my own damn fault. I couldn’t stop talking about Ginger throughout the appointment, although I was careful to avoid using her name. But I spoke about her incessantly, so much so that I half-expected Alfonso to drown in my verbal deluge.

“Well, like I said, she’s in the hospital, so that won’t be happening. But I am curious to see what she thinks.”

“Luckily, if she doesn’t like your ugly mug, you can always grow back the beard. Well, maybe grow back thirty percent of it.I’m going to fill whole trash bins with everything you’re leaving behind today.”

I chuckle, glancing at the ground. “Are you sure you don’t need a hand cleaning up?”

“Please consider leaving a generous tip,” he says with a wink.

“Done.”

He rests his hands on his hips, standing behind me and staring into the mirror in front of us. “Shampoo? Conditioner? Pomade? Gel? Are there any products I can get you before you leave?”

I shake my head, not knowing how to answer his questions. It’s been way too fucking long since I dealt with this many people and a city, although New Brunswick is anything but large. Still, I find myself moving slower than most people, taking my time answering questions, and remaining quiet more often than I speak.

“No, but can you direct me to a flower shop and a nice jewelry store nearby?”

He rubs his goatee, grimacing deep in thought.

“Yeah, I’ll write the addresses on the back of one of my business cards. Remember, we do facial hair trims, too. So, even if your old lady wants you to grow the beard back, you’re always welcome here.”

“Thank you,” I say with a polite nod. “Hopefully, she won’t find my bare face too ugly.”

Alfonso laughs, leaving me with a fifty-fifty impression when it comes to his opinion. Charlie Hunnam? Whatever.

After realizing Mr. Harper’s covered the barbershop bill, I drop a one-hundred-dollar bill on the counter, causing Alfonso to run out and hug me as I leave. I nearly put the guy in a headlock, not used to such interactions. Fortunately, we part with smiles and a handshake.

I head out on my shopping odyssey, the thought of seeing Ginger again twisting my insides. So many things remain unsaid and up in the air between us.

The cocky, young Ranger version of me would walk into her room empty-handed and nonchalant. Not pushing for any one outcome but playing it cool. Back then, I was the young buck that women threw themselves at. I’m not that guy anymore, though. Not by a long shot, even if I now resemble an older, wiser version of him.

Fortunately, I’ve lived long enough to know what I feel for Ginger is one-of-a-kind and once-in-a-lifetime. God, I hope she feels the same way.

Considering everything Mr. Harper’s done for me, I have to hope she does. But these might also be the actions of a father trying to repay the man who saved his daughter. Or a man who’s looking to indebt a soldier of fortune to him for God knows what…

Only one thing is clear. I have to do this right with Ginger, prove to her the feelings in the cave don’t have to be a one-time thing.They can last forever.The thought puts a tight knot in my throat.

It also cements my resolve to start living again and to let my comrades and what happened in the AOR go. I’ll join them soon enough anyway. My time will come. Like everyone else’s. No need to hasten the journey. But thereisneed to live my life the way they would want me to, savoring every moment.

Fortunately, my broker called this morning, finally confirming available funds from my liquidated crypto wallets. I need to show Ginger how special she is to me and that I can actually take care of her—not half-ass survival, unprepared and haphazardly.

My arms ache to hold her again and to see with my own two eyes how she’s recovering. But first, I have to ensure our next meeting won’t leave her with any doubts about my feelings.

Chapter

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