Total pages in book: 198
Estimated words: 186242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 931(@200wpm)___ 745(@250wpm)___ 621(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 931(@200wpm)___ 745(@250wpm)___ 621(@300wpm)
I wouldn’t be staying if I didn’t give myself a reason to.
And that’s what got me sliding into my car and heading out, not totally sure I knew what I was doing but knowing I had to do something.
I waited until I got to way down the county road before looking up directions for the bank. I knew there was a branch in town; I’d checked to be on the safe side before coming. Five hours from Denver and four from Albuquerque, it was basically in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by small towns that even fewer people had ever heard of. There were two grocery stores, a few local banks and one major one, a tiny movie theater, and a pretty good amount of restaurants and breweries for the town’s size.
Considering how booked the rentals were, I should have expected how busy town would be. It wasn’t like I didn’t know that Pagosa Springs relied heavily on tourism. As a kid, my mom used to complain about all the tourist traffic at the height of summer, getting frustrated at the grocery store when we’d have to park at the back of the lot.
But the rest of my memories of Pagosa were cloudy. So much of it looked different; there were a ton more buildings than I remembered, but there was something about it that was still . . . familiar. The new Walmart was the exception.
Everything changed over time, after all.
Hope again flared in my chest as I navigated my way down the highway. Maybe it didn’t look totally like what I remembered, but there was enough there that felt . . . right. Or maybe I was just imagining it.
More than anything, this place was a fresh start. That was what I wanted. Sure, one of my worst memories had taken place here, but the rest of them—the best of them—overrode that.
Life in Pagosa had begun, and time was ticking.
The bank. Groceries. Maybe I could walk around and check out a few shops, see if anywhere was hiring or find a paper to look for ads there. I hadn’t had a normal job in over a decade, and it wasn’t like I had references I was willing to give anymore. Maybe I could stop by and see if Clara was working.
And if I had time, I could log on and give Kaden a one-star review too.
The small white sign in front of the shop said “HIRING” in bright orange letters.
Tilting my head back, I read the name of the business. THE OUTDOOR EXPERIENCE. Peeking through the window, I saw a ton of people inside. There were racks of clothes, and a long counter formed an L-shape across two of the opposite walls. Inside, there was a woman zipping around from side to side behind the counter, looking exasperated as she helped as many people as she could who were all pointing at signs mounted to the walls. The most I could read was something about rentals.
I hadn’t really had any expectations of what kind of job I could get, but after spending the last two hours ducking into one shop after another to explore, I was glad I didn’t have my heart set on anything. The only places with signs had been a fly-fishing store—I hadn’t been fishing in years, so I didn’t even bother asking—a music store that had been playing a song I knew too well and I’d turned around and walked back out instantly, and a shoe store. Both employees that had been working at the time had been in the back arguing so loud I heard every word, and I hadn’t bothered asking for an application there either.
And now, on the opposite end of town from where I was going to be staying, I’d ended up here.
From memory, I knew the Outdoor Experience was an “outdoor outfitter”—aka store—that sold and rented everything you might need for outdoor activities: fishing, camping, archery, and more. It depended on the season.
I didn’t know anything about . . . any of those things. Not anymore. I knew there were different types of fishing—fly-fishing, bottom-fishing . . . other kinds . . . of fishing—but that was it. I knew about bows and . . . crossbows. I knew what a tent was, and many, many years ago, I’d been a pro at setting one up. But that was the extent of my knowledge of the outdoors. I’d lived in a city with people who weren’t outdoorsy for too long, apparently.
But none of that mattered because I was here for another reason. Not for a job or to buy anything. And honestly, I was just a little nervous.
I hadn’t reached out to Clara in almost a year, not since everything had gone to shit, and even then I had only messaged her to tell her happy birthday. She didn’t know I’d split up with Kaden.