Page 17 of See It Through
His jaw worked back and forth. “I’m gonna need a burger too. Least you can do is buy my dinner if you’re gonna fuck up my night.”
I bit back a laugh. “Yeah, I could go for a burger too.”
“All right then. I’ll meet you at Joy’s. It’ll have to be early.”
I nodded. Ranch hours probably had him rising with the sun. “Right. Five?”
“I’ll be there.” He turned his back to me, giving his horse his full attention. I’d have liked to stay, see the ranch, ask him a hundred questions, but pushing my luck didn’t seem wise.
As I drove back to the house, I hoped I wouldn’t have any more women with strangely tall hair popping by to read me poetry. I didn’t think I could be polite if I had to sit through another sonnet. I just didn’t have it in me.
Chapter Nine
Remington
Joy’s Elbow Room waseverything I thought it’d be when I was a kid peeking through the gritty windows from the sidewalk. Flickering neon beer signs on the walls, rustic wood tables clustered in the center, a long, curved bar taking up two walls. A few two-seater booths were tucked away, their burgundy vinyl seats clean yet worn. Two pool tables in the back surrounded by a few high-top tables, already filled with women who’d put in a lot of effort to make themselves look special from head to toe and men who looked like they’d come straight from a hard day on a ranch.
I scanned the flannel shirts and scruffy beards, landing on Caleb Kelly pretty quickly. His height made him hard to miss. That, and he was beelining toward me.
He stopped when we were almost toe to toe, brows dipping like thunderbolts. I braced to take a hit or a verbal smackdown. What I hadn’t been ready for was him wrapping his huge arms around me in an embrace.
“Missed the hell out of you, Town,” he gruffed next to my head. “Pissed as hell at you but missed you all the same.”
The hug was over as quickly as it had started. When he released me from his stronghold, I stumbled back a step, and he caught my shoulder in his wide mitt, steadying me without a word.
“Got us a table. Come on.” He turned and walked away like nothing had happened. If my ribs hadn’t been slightly tweaked from how hard he’d squeezed me, I might’ve believed I’d hallucinated the encounter.
Cay was already seated at the table when I caught up, his body sideways so he could stretch his legs out, one elbow resting on the wood. I pulled out the chair across from him and flipped over the one-page menu, giving myself something to do with my hands.
He glanced at me, sniffed, then took a long pull from his beer. I looked around the place. Even though I’d never been inside, I was comfortable here.
A waitress came by and took my order. Her voice was so soft I barely heard her over the din of conversation and clinking glasses, but she scribbled down my request efficiently and scurried away without another word.
Cay lifted his chin. “That’s Alice. Don’t take it personal if she doesn’t talk to you. She’s shy.”
“Got it.” I nodded a few times, unsure where to go from here. This had been my idea, but the years between us were feeling more like an obstacle than they had this morning. One thing I knew was true: seeing his lively eyes and easy grin, I had missed him too. “It’s good to see you again, Cay. Even if you’re pissed at me, I’m glad I got the chance to see you all grown up. Kinda feels surreal to be in our thirties together.”
“Yeah.” Setting his beer down, he cocked his head to look me over. “Difference is I always expected to be sitting here with you at this age while you knew it was never gonna happen. You could’ve given me some warning. Told me you were leaving. Least I wouldn’t have looked like a fool when I had no answers for all the questions lobbed at me from every direction.”
“I didn’t think I was going to do it until I was on the bus. I kept it to myself in case I didn’t work up the guts to go through with it—and so I wouldn’t be talked out of it.” I rubbed my stubbly jaw and let my hand fall heavily on the table. “You knew I couldn’t breathe here. I told you I wanted to get out of here and see the world. But I don’t know if you ever got it. You were always happy to stay, to do what your dad did, what his dad did—”
“Ah.” He drummed his thick, blunt fingers on his knees. “I understand. You couldn’t talk to me because I didn’t have big, worldly dreams like you, huh? I’m surprised you have the desire to talk to me now, seeing as I’m still here and you captured what you were looking for. The traveling, the fame—”
“Fame was never one of my dreams. And you’re not hearing me, Cay. I don’t look down on you for knowing what you wanted and sticking to that. I admire it. I was always jealous of how damn happy you were here while I was climbing the walls to get out.”
He swallowed down the rest of the beer, and another appeared moments later, almost as if the little quiet waitress had been waiting for him to finish. She delivered mine at the same time, along with our burgers, then essentially ran away as soon as the plates hit the table.
Cay didn’t seem interested in talking. His focus was on his burger, biting into it like he’d been waiting all his life for it. It was like stepping back in time. He’d always eaten like that. I almost laughed but held it in. Didn’t think it’d be appreciated when we were on rocky ground.
So, I ate my burger. It was one of the best I’d had in my life, and the beer that washed it down was even better. I credited the hunger gnawing at my stomach and the fresh Wyoming air.
I wiped my mouth with my napkin and wadded it in my fist. “I try not to hold on to regrets, but I always regretted losing touch with you.”
He swiped the back of his hand over his mouth and nodded. “Makes sense. I was the best friend you ever had. I imagine that still holds true.”
That got a chuckle out of me. “It’s true. I made a fair few friends in my time away, but none like you. I don’t think buddies like us happen in adulthood.”
“Nah, you’re probably right. Gotta have dirt, skinned knees, and boyhood to form that kind of bond. At least, the kind I always thought we had.”