Page 100 of Plentywood
“But you said he won’t even answer his door?” I reminded her.
“He will for you,” she whispered, squeezing my hand. “Be the stronger man, Ben. For Hunt. I know Hunt is tough and acts allrough around the edges, but he is being eaten alive by his fear of letting go of Mark. He needs you to convince him it’s okay to let go and love again.”
I swiped at my eyes. Agnes was many things, but apparently, she had a heart. Something I had actually suspected for some time now. “Are you sure?”
“You came to our town to save him,” she said. “I believe that fact with all my heart. You are our gift, son. Please know how important you are to all of us, but especially to that boy.”
Tears fell onto my desk, forming tiny pools of hope. “Okay, Agnes. I’ll go out there. I will try.”
“Thank you, Ben,” she stated, smiling through wet and shiny eyes. “You are such a kind young man. Your parents must be so proud of you.”
I shook my head and nervously adjusted in my chair. I hated telling people about my childhood. But I trusted Agnes and felt she deserved to know that this little boy was as fucked up as her Charlie and Hunt.
“My mother didn’t have the time of day for me,” I confessed. “She was never present in my life and, like my father, didn’t truly know who I am.”
“Then I guess it’s Plentywood’s job to be proud of you,” she said. “I know I’m proud of you, son.”
“I used to think I hated you, Agnes.”
“I know that,” she stated. “That’s my charm. I grow on folks. Sorta like mold.”
“I actually love you, Agnes,” I specified.
She looked away. “No, you don’t,” she whispered, quickly looking back at me, checking in to see if she’d heard correctly.
I nodded. “Yeah, you old goat. I do.”
Every tender emotion that I believed truly lived in Agnes’s heart radiated on her face after I told her I loved her. Shesat across from me and smiled, touching her heart instead of speaking. I’m pretty sure she couldn’t speak at the moment.
I was raised by parents that never truly saw me. Perhaps their ability to show love was different than most, but I remembered it hurt. Agnes made my heart hurt, too. But this ache in my heart felt good.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE: Hunter
“Ineed another week, Cass,” I said, sitting in the dark at only half past four in the afternoon. The winter sun was low in the sky this time of year, but I didn’t care. I’d gotten used to the dark these days.
“What about the holiday schedule, Hunt?” she asked. “The guys are worried they’ll have to work overtime if you’re still out by Christmas.”
“That’s two weeks away, Deputy,” I reminded her. “I’ll be back by then. Plus, I’ll work Christmas Eve and on Christmas day.”
“Can I get you anything, Hunt?” she asked, lowering her voice. “I could drop some stuff by for ya.”
“You haven’t heard from me, Cass. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” she replied. “But Hunt, what’s going on with you and the doctor? I know it’s none of my business, but you two are good together.”
“He figured out that I’m a miserable asshole. End of story.”
I assumed Cass would mind her own business and hang up after my blunt response, but she didn’t. “That is simply not true, Hunt. I haven’t seen you this happy in like…” She hesitated.
“Two years, Cass? Is that what you were gonna say?” I asked.
“Well, yes. You know what I mean.”
“Shit didn’t work out for us, Cass. And that’s all you need to know about it. I’ll be back next Monday,” I said, hanging up on her.
I glanced at the blank TV screen, my reflection looking back at me. “Miserable fuck!” I muttered.
After checking my cell for the hundredth time, I exhaled slowly and closed my eyes. Forty-five minutes until the therapist would be calling. The first two calls were awful. I hated her asking me direct questions about my life. She was pushy and wanted to know how I felt about shit.
