Page 54 of When We Were Us
I tell her everything: our argument on the porch; that day in the kitchen when he’d gotten so upset about me not locking the doors; how he’d pulled me against him. I tell her about him showing up, offering to help with anything I needed to get the house ready, and how he’d held me when I lost it in the yard.
I end with telling her about Apollo—how I would have done anything to save that horse. I hated seeing Hank in pain. Having grown up where I did, I know there is nothing like the bond between a man and his horse or his dog, and I had wanted nothing more than to comfort him.
When I finish, she watches me closely, but she doesn’t look surprised.
“I don’t know if it’s just being back here, or if I am, in fact, losing my mind, but I can’t stop thinking about him.” I raise my shoulders in a tiny shrug.
She leans across the table and reaches for my hand, giving it a squeeze. “Thank you for telling me. Thank you for trusting me. With all of it.”
“Thanks for listening and for trusting me with your stuff too. I didn't know how badly I needed to tell you, until I did.”
She nods, then takes in a deep breath and grins at me widely. “Now that we got all the sappy shit out of the way, how about a little retail therapy?”
I laugh and nod at my friend, my chest feeling fifty pounds lighter. “Sounds perfect.”
We spendthe rest of the day shopping and laughing. It feels so good to have reconnected with Finn, and it’s truly like we never lost touch.
As we go from shop to shop, we reminisce about all the fun we used to have in Timber Forge, and she tells me about her job at Timber’s Treats. She really seems to love working for Nat, mostly because it's flexible enough that she can work on finishing her hospitality and tourism degree at the community college in Bozeman. Most of her remaining classes are online, and even though it’s taken her a little over the standard eighteen months, she should be finished by Christmas.
On the way home, Nat calls and invites us to go out for drinks. I’ve had an amazing day with Finn, and despite being exhausted from a day full of shopping, I find I don’t want to say no. So, by the time she drops me off at home, we’ve made plans to change and meet Nat, Norah, and Hayley at Rowdy Roxy’s Bar. I’ll be the designated driver, so I tell Finn I’ll pick her up at her place at nine.
When I step inside the cool interior of my house, my heart is full.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
hank
Roxy’s is packed tonight.Every seat at the dimly lit bar is full, and all the high tops, too. There are a couple empty booths ringing the outer edge of the dance floor. Cardboard cards reading RESERVED rest in horseshoe-shaped placards on the tabletops.
There’s always live music on Saturday nights, and the band is currently tuning their instruments and setting up mic stands. Nineties Alan Jackson plays through the sound system as I take a sip of my drink and let my eyes roam over the room. There are a few locals I recognize, but since I don’t spend many nights in the bar, I’m guessing these are mostly out-of-towners.
Timber Forge isn’t the biggest tourist town in Montana, but being so close to Yellowstone National Park, our tiny town and the surrounding forests are the perfect getaway for outdoor adventure or quiet relaxation. The Beartooth mountains have thousands of miles of hiking, horseback riding and ATV/UTV trails, and plenty of lakes for fishing or kayaking. There are several places either here in town or just outside of it that have cabin rentals. Summer is by far the busiest time of year, but we also have quite a few visitors for skiing in the winter.
I check my watch. Hudson called at the last minute and invited me out for a drink. He was meeting with Trevor, who owns Roxy’s, about a new point of sale system for the bar—a lighter version of the one he’d recently implemented at his own place. Trevor took over when his grandma, Roxy, passed two years ago. It wasn’t what he wanted to be doing for the rest of his life, but it wasn’t a bad gig for a twenty-five-year-old kid.
While I waited for them to finish up, I’d grabbed the only seat left at the bar and ordered a whiskey neat.
“You made it,” Hudson says, coming up behind me with a clap on my back.
“Here you go, handsome. You can have my seat.” The older woman next to me finishes her drink and gives Hudson a wink as she stands and heads toward the bathroom. He thanks her with a smile and a tip of his head.
The bartender comes over and he orders a beer. She returns shortly with a bottle, and he turns, clinking it against my glass.
“I don't know how you drink that shit.” He eyes the amber liquid in my glass as he raises his beer to his mouth, taking a long drink.
I’ve never been much for bars or beer, preferring to spend a quiet night around a fire with a whiskey glass and solitude. But I don’t get to see my brother often, and I figured a quick drink wouldn’t kill me.
“Because I have taste, and you’re the eternal frat boy,” I return, my elbows propped up on the bar. It still blows my mind that he owns a whole damn bar and still chooses beer over everything else.
“Fair point.” He laughs and takes another drink. “How’s Apollo?”
“Better. He’ll likely be there a few more days before I can bring him home.” Doc Callahan said he was doing amazing, considering the shape he was in. When I’d stopped by this morning, he’d told me how impressed he was with Wren; how she’d done an amazing job with him.
“How were things with Wren?” he asks, cracking a peanut open and tossing back the nuts before discarding the shells into the small bucket at his elbow. His tone is light and typically Hudson, casually conversational.
Immediately, my hackles are raised. Because that’s the million-dollar question, isn't it? How are things with her?Fucking confusing.
When I’d finally made it back to the ranch after spending the whole night on the floor of that cramped recovery stall, I’d done nothing but put out little fires all day long. By the time I left for home, I was irritated from being up for over twenty-four hours, not to mention emotionally drained from worrying about my horse.
