Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
It was something Clint often thought about—in regard to himself, not Colby. He hadn’t planned to be forty-two and unmarried. He wasn’t averse to commitment or anything like that. He’d liked people, he’d dated, but he’d never fallen in love. He’d never found that person he thought he could spend his life with. It just…never happened. He’d had more relationships with women than men, and the guys he’d been with hadn’t been from Harmony. He wasn’t closeted, though he didn’t figure most people knew he was bi. It wasn’t something he talked about much, and since he hadn’t dated any guy from there, even if people had seen them together in Harmony from time to time, they’d likely thought they were just friends.
He climbed into his truck, unsure why his thoughts had gone there. Maybe it was because Roe and Holden had gotten together, and then Deacon Sharpe, the owner of Sundae’s Best, an ice cream parlor in Everett, fell in love with Grady about a year ago. It felt like everyone around him, everyone his age, had someone.
“Ah, hell,” he mumbled to himself. He was being a mopey motherfucker. He probably needed to get laid. It had been a while.
The drive into town and to Mama Adaline’s didn’t take long. It was his favorite place to eat in all of Briar County. Adaline’s was the oldest Black-owned business in Briar County, and they made the best home-cooked Southern food you could find.
The place was busy like always when he went inside, though there were a few empty tables here and there. He noticed Colby in a booth right away and headed in his direction.
“Hey, man. How’s it going?” Clint asked when he slid in across from him.
“Not bad. You?”
“Just another day,” Clint answered.
“Yeah, I hear ya.”
It had been about a year since Colby and his last girlfriend had broken up. Clint had noticed a bit of a shift in him since then. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was exactly. Colby was just a little… He wouldn’t say sadder, necessarily; more like untethered. Like he wasn’t sure what he was doing with his life.
The waitress approached their table. “How you boys doing today?”
“Good. How about yourself?” Clint asked, and they both chatted with her for a few minutes before ordering their drinks and food.
As Colby started telling him about the farm and some issues they were having with one of the goats, Clint just happened to glance up when someone walked through the door and—“Holy shit.” Was that who he thought it was? It had been thirty years, so maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him? “Holy shit,” he said again when he noticed the teenage boy beside him.
“What?” Colby asked, but Clint didn’t answer. He couldn’t take his eyes off August.
He had, damn, he had grown up a lot. Little August Reynolds wasn’t so little anymore. He must have hit a pretty good growth spurt in high school. He looked close to six feet tall and had filled out a lot. He had a broad chest and thick arms he sure as shit hadn’t had before. His face was stubbly, a sandy beard mixed with gray, similar in color to the hair on his head. He wore slacks and a T-shirt, and his face had aged but not overly so. He looked like he’d grown up, like life had happened to him the way it did everyone. Clint couldn’t see his slightly deep-set eyes but knew they were a grayish blue. Was that an odd thing to remember after all these years?
It was weird, the way his pulse stumbled before kick-starting up a notch. August was back in Harmony, and strangely, that made Clint’s stomach flip.
“Who is that?” Colby asked.
“Guy I used to be friends with in middle school. I haven’t seen him since I was about fourteen.” As if August felt him talking about him, he looked up, his gaze connecting with Clint’s. He saw the recognition in his old friend’s stare, in the familiar curl of his lips that was the same smile he’d had when they were kids.
He said something to the teenager with him, and the two of them started walking Clint’s way. He slid out of the booth and pushed to his feet just as August reached him. “Clint, damn, it’s good to see you, man,” August said, his voice deeper than it had been.
They hugged, and Clint felt struck stupid for a moment, as if he didn’t know what to do or say. It wasn’t unheard of for someone to move back to their hometown, so he had no idea why he was so shocked that August had done it, but he was. “It’s good to see you too.”
Clint couldn’t lie, he enjoyed the feel of August’s muscular body against his. When they pulled apart, he couldn’t help but let his gaze wander the man, if for no reason than he still couldn’t believe he was there. He was so different from the boy people had teased in the schoolyard—thicker, more confident. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he said.