Page 26 of There's Pumpkin About You
“You worked through the night to get this done?” I ask him slowly.
He clears his throat and rolls his shoulder. “Yes.”
“Why?”
He shrugs those broad shoulders but doesn’t respond. And for the first time since meeting Gus, I wonder if maybe I have him all wrong.
ChapterTwelve
GUS
“Ijust need the one,” Nigel says as he pretends he isn’t surveying the closest pumpkin patch. “I’m going to surprise Simone with a pumpkin pie.”
I take my time filling out the order form because the last one that I rushed, I ended up messing up the numbers, meaning someone who ordered two pumpkins ended up with seven… somehow.
“Harvesting season is coming up soon, isn’t it?” Nigel asks.
I grunt in confirmation.
“Are you going to be able to handle it with your injury?”
I shrug with my free shoulder and finish filling out the form. It takes me a lot longer than usual since I’m attempting to write with my left hand.
Nigel chuckles. “I forget how chatty you can be.”
“Your order is done. I’ll get it to you tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” he grins. He returns to his not-so-subtle observation of one of the pumpkin patches, arms crossed over his button-down and windbreaker. His graying hair moves with the wind that seems to be increasing in both strength and frequency. Just as I’m about to leave him to it, he adds, “He’d be proud of what you’ve accomplished here, August.”
If I wasn’t already having a shitty day, that comment would have soured it completely.
I mumble an “Mhmm,” and hope that he doesn’t continue. I clearly overestimate my luck.
“I’m being serious. He would think this is amazing.”
“Well, then it’s a shame he ran off, isn’t it?”
Nigel spins to me, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Iwouldn’t say he ran off.”
“Oh, you wouldn’t? What else would you call flying to Vegas to get married and never coming back?”
He takes a deep breath. “I would call it being lost.”
I scoff in disbelief. “If you want to be lost, then be lost, but don’t drag others into your shit just so you can find yourself. I’ll see you tomorrow, Nigel.”
I make it to the steps leading to my office.
“Make sure you listen to that advice when you begin working with Miss Southwick.” His tone is kind, but his words are firm, a warning.
“If only someone had told him that before he mether.” I storm into my office without waiting to hear one more word.
Nigel and my dad were friends once upon a time. They grew up together in town, but when my dad met Marina, all of his other personal relationships kind of went to shit. They ran away to Vegas for a shotgun wedding and we never saw him again. All we were left with was a shitty group text to say that Marina didn’t like the small-town life and so they’d be settling down in California.
Some people pretended to be shocked, even went as far as judging me for not bothering to hide my lack of surprise. I was and still am the one person not affected by it and for that, there has to be something wrong with me. Or, maybe it is affecting me and I just refuse to acknowledge that. Never mind that the relationship between me and my father was a shitshow before he met her. Never mind that I lived a life where Bash felt like more of a father figure than he did.
I drop myself into my desk chair and lower my head, careful not to fold my shoulder awkwardly. Most would call it a stupid reason; why I ended up breaking my arm, but I wouldn’t change a thing.
Well, maybe I would try and accomplish the task in a way that doesn’t land my arm in a cast during harvesting season, but I wouldn’t change the fact that I tried.
