by HJ Bellus
Table of Contents
Epilogue
Hunter
Teale
The End
Playlist
Back Country
HJ Bellus
Small Town Girl Books
Contents
1. Hunter
2. Hunter
3. Hunter
4. Hunter
5. Hunter
6. Hunter
7. Hunter
8. Hunter
9. Hunter
10. Teale
11. Hunter
12. Hunter
13. Teale
14. Hunter
15. Hunter
16. Hunter
17. Teale
18. Hunter
19. Hunter
20. Hunter
21. Hunter
22. Hunter
23. Hunter
Epilogue
The End
Playlist
Back Country
Copyright © 2017 by HJ Bellus. Small Town Girl Books, LLC.
Edited by: Emma Mack, Ultra Editing
Formatting: HJ Bellus
Proofread By: Alissa Glenn
Cover Designer: Dana @Designs by Dana
Photographer: Golden Czermak, Furious Fotog
Model: Andrew James
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of HJ Bellus.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Dedication-
To my Hunter, always.
I can never thank you for sharing this life-changing story with me. You’ve inspired hundreds and thousands, to believe in the good of the world.
I’d like to remind everyone that Dave and Hunter’s story is based, one hundred percent, on a true story. All of Dave’s insane comments, grumpy attitude, and admiration for Hunter are straight from my notes from when I talked to Hunter. And yes, Hunter has dumped over a hundred dollars in black licorice.
If you take anything away from this story, I hope it’s the power of kind hearts, small towns, and the one and only Hunter Yates, who has dedicated hours of his life to Dave.
Love,
HJB
1
Hunter
“I learned a man’s gotta be a lot tougher than the timber he’s cutting.” -Johnny Cash
Two weeks at the feedlot and I was promoted to the manager. It was like taking candy from a baby. The majority of the workers here are students and have never been around cattle a day in their life. Like everything else in my world, it’s a complete circus most times.
It’s still amazing to be on horseback working cattle. It eases some of the stress of taking care of Dave, yet nothing touches what Teale did to me. One simple word and a quick glance of remorse, shattered everything between us. She hasn’t sent a text or attempted a call, and me the same.
“He’s all yours.” A nurse pats me on the back.
Just like the first nursing home, this one is all too ready to send Dave home. Hell, they invited me to the party they’re throwing later. Dave’s upright in a wheelchair, with all of his color back and smile on his face. His spirits have been up lately. He’s eager to get home.
“Let my boy push me out,” Dave growls at one of the nurses.
She’s more than pleased to let me deal with the cranky old man, with her hands up in the air and a smile plastered on her face.
“By all means, Dave. Remember, home health will be coming to your house tomorrow.”
He growls at her, then I roll him out to my car.
“What in the hell is this?” Dave leans closer to the black car.
“Better gas mileage,” is all I offer up.
It’s not a lie. My truck was sucking up my extra cash with the miles I was putting on her. It wasn’t reasonable, so I traded it off for a black Honda Accord. The shitty-ass road out to Dave’s is a bitch on it though.
“Turning into a pussy, Hunter.”
In the oddest of ways, Dave’s antics have soothed me over the last two weeks. It makes the wound in my heart ache less. I haven’t told him about Teale. I’m not ready to hear Dave give me lessons on my titty groping skills. I haven’t spoken her name since that day. The town is just big enough, and busy with college students, making it possible to not run into Teale. Hell, I don’t even know if she’s still in town or went back with her husband.
“Going to make a quick stop at Costco to get you some shakes and other things.” I turn the key to the car missing the old, familiar roar of my truck.
“Drop me off then you go get it.” Dave lays his head back on the headrest.
“I’m not driving you home then back down to Costco, Dave.”
“You need to get laid?” He grunts.
But thankfully before I can reply or tell him to go to hell, Dave’s eyes flutter shut. I’m able to enjoy the rest of the drive without his demands and plans of work when we get home.
After several minutes of roaming the parking lot for a decent spot and then waking up Dave, I’m beginning to think I enjoy self-torture.
“I’ll stay in the car,” he grumbles.
“No, getting out will do you good.”
“You decide to go to nursing school?”
I stare at him with a blank stare.
“Because you’re becoming a pain in the ass just like them.”
“C’mon, get your ass out.” I hold out my arm for him. “We’ll get you one of those scooters.”
Dave’s bones grind together as he struggles to get out of the car. I’d scored a parking spot nearest to the door without having a handicap pass. He keeps his eyes focused down on his feet as we creep into the store. I get him settled in a motorized cart, then grab a regular shopping cart.
As we roll down the central aisle back to the shakes, on-goers part ways for Dave making it easy on him. About the third person who steps aside for him, he brakes the motorized cart then glares at the other customers.
“Dave,” I warn, recognizing the glare of hatred in his eyes.
Of course he ignores me, continuing to stare down the customers who’ve stepped out of his way.
“Get the fuck out of my way.”
Their eyes bulge, and it seems they freeze in shock.
“Get the fuck out of my way,” he grits out again, not giving a shit that there’s small kids around.
Agonizing seconds float by as we all take in Dave’s crude words. Then he’s full-throttle again, doing the same thing to a dozen other customers. I tip my hat in their direction and say excuse us at least a half a dozen times, before we make it to the protein shakes.
Dave may buy in bulk because he’s not a people person, but I’m throwing shit in as fast as I can to get the hell out of here. Dave zips up next to me watching me throw in shakes.
“Think there’s a manager around?”
“No Dave.” I toss in the last box. “Everything is already discounted here.”
“I’m going to find one.”
Before I have the chance to tell him no, he has the damn scooter in reverse, full throttle. The back of it slams into a pallet of food, sending it all tumbling to the ground.
“Ah shit,” he mutters to himself.
Then in a blink of an eye, he’s going forward once again turning it as hard as it will go, knocking more food off a pallet.<
br />
“Ah shit.”
He doesn’t hesitate or stall, not worried about the mess he’s made before he’s off. He zips right along back down the aisle, telling people to get the fuck out of his way. There’s no telling what the man would do in a store this size unsupervised. I scramble, throwing the food back on the respective pallets, saying sorry to everyone near me. If I had to guess, I’ve said the one word at least five hundred times on Dave’s behalf.
2
Hunter
Two and a Half Months Later
“I will not give or back off from my path in life.” -Phil Robertson
“Hey.” Claire settles in on the tailgate next to me.
Her game is strong, I’ll give her that. Only a few seconds drift by before her hand is on the top of my thigh and her head on my shoulder. Burton sends me a wink from the bonfire.
“Claire.” I nod, continuing to stare forward.
“Figured since you’re going home tomorrow we could…uh.”
I turn to her, inching away. “Claire, we’ve had a good summer back here with the whole gang, but like I’ve told you over and over, there’s nothing more than friendship.”
As soon as Burton found out about Teale, he was on a mission to get me laid. Hell, he had a line of girls all summer for the taking. Claire, the most persistent one vying for my attention. I’m not like Burton, or other men for that fact, and don’t care to keep my sheets warm. I crave that deeper intrinsic connection, and I had it until it was gone.
Months later and still not a single word from Teale. Doesn’t mean she hasn’t been on my mind every single second of the day. Life hasn’t been the same without her in it. Parts of me yearn to go back to her and beg her to leave her husband, but my pride and anger keep me grounded in my weakest moments.
Claire finally gets the message and hops from the tailgate. “I’ve always been in love with you Hunter Yates.”
What the hell? We had a few short months dating in high school.
“I’ll be here when you get home next summer if you’ve changed your mind.”
I’m not a mean man, but also not going to let Claire think there’s any way I’ll be coming back to her. I slide down from the tailgate, having enough of this party, then slam it shut. It’s not my sleek old girl, but my old ranch truck authenticated with rust.
I take a step closer to Claire, who has her arms folded over her chest. “Just going to be real blunt here, Claire. There is no us, nor never will be. We’re old friends from high school who tried to date once, and that’s it. You got me? Yeah?”
She nods her head once before scurrying off back toward the bonfire. I don’t miss the scowl Burton sends my way. The level of frustration between the two of us is at an all-time high. He’s trying to help me, and I haven’t wanted anything to do with it. I need time. School, Dave, and managing the U of I feedlot will keep me busy enough, and give my heart time to heal.
By the time I make it home, the house is silent with only the kitchen light on. Mom’s MacBook is wide open and catches my eye. I see her. My breathing stops the same time my entire world evaporates from underneath me. It’s an unfortunate accident waiting to happen, the kind you can’t turn away from and keep staring at it.
Teale’s megawatt smile, with her gorgeous as hell hair piled messily on the top of her head and, of course, she’s sporting skinny jeans with designer boots. Her little girl is wrapped around her leg. She’s the carbon copy of Teale in a matching outfit, with identical smiles and crazy hair. I notice the title of the blog, and I can’t help the surge of pride running through my veins.
“A Bushel of Humble.”
The tagline underneath steals the oxygen in my lungs. To dreaming with loved ones.
The sensor on the MacBook brightens, almost as if it’s a sign from the powers above to continue on or warning from the devil himself. I take one last long look at Teale’s happy face then snap the lid shut. I don’t need to be reading about her dreams and her loved ones. Not tonight. Not ever.
The front door slams distracting me from the blog at the perfect time. Abby comes in squealing with delight. She has shopping bags hanging from both of her arms. Quinn’s face is concentrated on the screen of her phone, followed by Mom and Dad who are deep in conversation. The four of them have been my rock this summer. My foundation and ground when reality was too much to face.
I catch Quinn by surprise, leaping for her phone and grabbing it from her with ease. Her reaction is a predictable one, but I’m swifter, holding the phone above my head.
“Hunter.” She leaps from foot to foot trying to swipe away the phone.
“Who you texting?”
“Give it to me now.” She sends a sucker punch to my gut. “Mom, Hunter took my phone.”
“Hunter,” Mom hollers with not much conviction. “Give it back to her.”
I keep the phone safe above my head, while taking Quinn to the couch and sitting on her. She bellows out a loud oomph, but it doesn’t stop me.
“Let’s see here.” I open the phone to see the SnapChat screen pop up then read the screen name, Boner. Oh, not happening on my watch.
“Mom,” I yell, mimicking Quinn’s voice. “Quinn is chatting with a guy named, Boner.”
Her palm somehow manages to slap across my mouth right when I hit play on the damn video this Boner just sent. A squealing, fast speed pace of an “I love you” over and over, with a puppy dog face and droopy ears.
I bite on Quinn’s palm and then growl. “What the hell is this?”
A video of her with kitten ears plays, with her singing a damn song to Boner.
“Hunter, stop.” She squirms underneath me, gaining a bit of ground.
“What in the hell is wrong with kids these days?”
I wince when the words tumble from my lips because I sound just like Dave.
“You dated in high school,” Quinn fires back, managing to sit up on the couch.
“Not some douche named Boner.” In a swift move, I have her in a head lock.
“It’s a nickname,” she spats back.
Abby joins in on the fun and all hell breaks loose, that is, until Quinn starts crying.
The drive back to the campus was miserable. Each mile that ticked by felt like slices to my tender heart. Memories of Teale sitting next to me, her laughter, her body pressed up next to mine, and her scent, assaulted me at each mile marker.
Same story, different place in my apartment. She’s everywhere, consuming me. It’s worse here than back home. The counter where she’d sit her sweet ass while I cooked. My shower where we spent hours, and my bed where I swear to God I can still smell her scent. The sheets are rough on my skin, even though they are soft cotton.
A package of gummy bears on the nightstand taunts me, but there’s something in my gut that keeps me from throwing them away. It’s a silent promise that maybe just maybe…
“Shit,” I growl then force myself to close my eyes.
Sleep never comes because every single time I’m about to doze off another memory strikes hard and fast. I should’ve stopped in at Dave’s last night, but got in way too late. Quickly showering and leaving the house, I set out to his place not quite sure what his house will be like since I haven’t been around for a bit.
In the oddest way, the summer break away from Dave was refreshing, but I miss the cranky bastard. He was never far from my thoughts. Weird to think he’s become one of my best friends.
3
Hunter
“A country song is a song about life.” -Alan Jackson
The drive is just as breath taking as I remember it. I found an ‘96 F-150 truck that I basically stole off a classmate right before I went home last year. It needed to be fixed up and was a simple job. I knew that I’d need something bigger when the snow hits to make it out to Dave’s place.
The house and all the rusty equipment is still in its place, and lonely as ever. The front porch singing the same creaking song when I step up on it. Unlike, the first time, I d
on’t knock or have any nervous energy running through me.
The smell from the inside of the house is not a welcoming one. It’s worse than anything imaginable. The stench is thick and gut wrenching, making me cover my mouth and nose.
“Hunter?” Dave’s deep voice echoes throughout the house.
“It’s me.”
I look over to the trash cans huddled together, and knew right away where the majority of the smell is coming from. There’s so much garbage and rotting food that you can’t even see the trash cans. It’s spilling and rotting right before my eyes.
“Get in here,” he calls out again.
I walk through the trail of trash and find Dave in his recliner with some old magazines, and dozens empty protein shakes at his feet.
“Hey.” I smile at him, even though nothing around me deserves that reaction.
“You miss me?” He smiles wide showing his few black teeth. “Where’s my candy?”
I shake my head at the man, then pull out his damn bag of black licorice. The horrible stench in the house disappears as Dave, and I talk for a long time. It’s clear he’s been lonely, and I know he’d never admit it, but the cranky man missed me.
“You ready to get going on a tractor?” He finally asks.
“You feeling up to it?”
“Can’t keep an old dog down.”
“Give me a few to clean up some stuff, then we can go out to the shop.”
Halfway through hauling out the trash, it dawns on me that I haven’t thought of Teale or my broken heart since entering Dave’s house. There’s more than enough here to keep me occupied. After I have the trash burning and the kitchen somewhat settled, Dave and I go out to the shop.
He fiddles around with junk while I begin working on restoring the old tractor, knowing Dave will make me paint it green and yellow. I chuckle while welding, loving the feel of being back around him.
