Page 49 of Missile Tow
“Is that about right?” I asked for the second time, finding the willpower to face my fear of rejection rather than run from it. “It’s not my intention to be cruel, Chip.”
I’d been accustomed to looking to Evan to solve my issues in the past, but now I was single, so I understood Chip’s sadness. Back then, I didn’t have to feel or make mistakes because Evan ran our lives. But look where that got me.
Chip remained silent for half a minute, his shoulders moving with each breath, before he spoke. “They won’t let me be a different person,” he whispered.
I squeezed his shoulder and stepped to within inches of his back. “Who won’t let you be a different person?”
He cleared his throat of the pain stuck there. “The townsfolk won’t. They knew me and John our whole lives. John was me, and I was him. We were bookends since we were kids.”
“Where do they think he is?” I asked, trying my best not to insult him by sounding like a smart ass. “John left you and this town for another man,” I stated. “Do they know that?”
“I don’t know,” he murmured. “No one ever says anything except Bertie because she works with me.”
“Mrs. Hatfield knows,” I reminded him. “And you mentioned the older gay man across the street. He knows.”
He turned to face me, his face streaked with tears. I realized in that moment, Chip was far more in touch with his emotions than I’d credited him with. Of course, my heart ached the second I understood he was far from over John, too. But I decided he needed a friend right then, not some horny guy wanting to fuck around for a couple of weeks.
“I guess I’m afraid to badmouth John to people he’s known forever,” he said. “Like, why make him look bad just because I’m so fucking miserable?”
“You don’t badmouth him to me,” I disagreed. “You’ve been nothing but respectful as well as direct about what he did. Do you speak about John’s absence to people?”
“I assumed they knew,” he said. “We never speak directly about him. I mean, at first, it was obvious he’d left town. Slowly and over time, people stopped inquiring about him.”
“But you were his significant person,” I said. “Wouldn’t they express their sorrow at your loss?”
“You’d think, right?” he began. “But truthfully, John and I never labeled to others who we were to each other. We assumed everybody knew we were a couple.”
Perhaps he was correct, but I didn’t accept the reason they wouldn’t let him be different. The two events didn’t have to bemutual. If he wanted to create change or be different, as he mentioned, then he could do that, in my opinion.
“But because the fact that you two were a couple was never discussed, I’d bet people were unsure how to bring his departure up. Maybe they were afraid they’d assumed the wrong thing about you two. You ever think about that?”
“I suppose,” he admitted. “Even his parents don’t speak about him to me. I think they’re relieved our relationship is out from under their noses.”
Chip had unloaded quite a parcel of news, and I was unsure what all of it meant. My feeling that he wasn’t over John was basically confirmed. I also assumed his reluctance to bring the tow truck out was related to the memory of his one true love as well.
Who was I to push him to do something he obviously felt uncomfortable with? My urge to make my apologies and hit the road to Denver that instant was huge. There was nothing for me here other than great sex. However, my urge for more great sex was also huge.
“Let’s leave the tow truck where it is,” I said, kicking a box near his foot. “Looks like you’ve got plenty of other great stuff to decorate with.”
I turned and headed for the door, deflated, but determined to keep moving forward. I was stronger for choosing myself for a change. No Evan to rain on my pursuits and desires. No need to entertain thoughts of Chip being anything other than a fun time for a couple of weeks.
I’d already surprised myself by vocalizing what I wanted sexually with Chip. He represented a clean sexual palette who allowed me to fulfill my needs, so why not enjoy what we shared? Even if the exchange was destined to be sexual only.
“Hey, Van,” he called after me. I stopped and turned to face him. “You okay? Are we okay?”
“We’re good, Chip. I think we’ve clarified some things I needed to hear.”
He took his cowboy hat off and ran his hand through his hair, his brow furrowed, studying me closely. “Yeah?” he asked.
I simply nodded, turned, and made my way to the door. The discovery of his not being ready for new love hurt more than I thought it would. Chip still lived with painful memories; he didn’t need to see the pools in my eyes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: Chip
Two jingly bells over the front door chime whenever a customer enters the mercantile. I glanced up to find Gloria Gardner hurrying in after the heads-up. Bertie took the day off to go to Walmart for Christmas present shopping, so I was running back and forth to the gas lanes.
Van, unaccustomed to Montana winters, insisted he was too cold to go in and out all day to assist with pumping fuel, so I asked him to restock the shelves and coolers, and to assist our customers. As I’d assumed, he was a natural with folks. They loved him the instant they interacted with my handsome guest.
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