Page 2 of Property of The Grump

I expect him to back off now. Most folks do at this point, but Tucker knows me too damn well, and he thinks I won’t hurt him.

That’s where he’s wrong. I’m not the man I used to be.

“You spent five years in prison for her, you were removed from the ministry because of her,” he laughs under his breath, “and we both know you’d do it all again. How is that not love?”

I’m going to fucking lose it if this conversation doesn’t end quickly!

My mouth goes dry, my jaw tightens, and my stare is focused on Tucker like a fucking shark following a diver. “Last fucking chance, man. Shut the fuck up.”

“You’ve been home for nearly two years, and I haven’t said a word about her, but you’re not yourself. I see the way you look for her when you’re in town. The way you—”

“I’m not myself because I spent five years in a fucking cell. I’m not myself because there are leaf peepers all over the damn mountain, making everything ten times harder. I’m not myselfbecause I’m out of fucking coffee. This has nothing to do with Wren.”

It’s the first time I’ve said her name out loud in years. Why the hell does it have to feel so good?

“So,” my stupid friend continues, “if your shitty demeanor has nothing to do with Wren, then you won’t feel anything when I tell you I took a call from her yesterday.”

“What?” My throat tightens as the sun peeks through the pines on the other side of the barn. “Are you fucking with me?”

“No, I’m not fucking with you.” Tucker brushes his hand down over his beard as he speaks. “Why would I fuck with you?”

“Enough, man. Just tell me what she said.”

He shrugs. “I don’t think she knew you worked for the company.”

“Man, I swear if you don’t start talking, I’m going to lose it.”

He takes off his pack and slings it by the barn door. “She called asking for campsite four fifty-seven.”

My chest tightens and my breath freezes.Four fifty-seven.

“How does she know about four fifty-seven?”

He scoffs. “How does anyone know about four fifty-seven?”

“She give you any other information?”

“You know the protocol. We don’t do intake on the phone. She’s coming in to check the place out today. I gave her a slot at nine this morning.”

I glance down at my watch and then glare toward Tucker. The poor guy has two brain cells, and one is clearly on a lunch break. “That’s an hour from now. Wren is coming here in an hour?”

He nods. “I didn’t get the impression she knew you were here. She even know you’re out of prison?”

I draw in a heavy breath and let it out slowly, reminding myself that I can’t choke a man. I did that once. Apparently, it’s frowned upon by society.

“I haven’t heard from her since I was booked. I think that’s a pretty clear sign she doesn’t want anything to do with me. You should do the intake. If she’s in trouble, she needs to feel safe. I don’t want to scare her off.”

He stares at me, his hand in his jean pocket, his brows furrowing inward as the bottom hem of his flannel flaps in the breeze. “You don’t want to see her at all?”

“What good does that do? We don’t know why she wants to disappear. If she sees me after all these years, I’ll spook her off. You’re doing the intake. End of story.”

He pinches his lips together and stares down at the ground, kicking his boot in the dirt. “Or maybe she’ll be comforted by someone she knows.”

“No, if she was comforted by me, she’d have contacted me once or twice over the past seven years.”

“So that’s what this is about? You’re pissed because she didn’t visit you in prison? Maybe she has a good reason. You did nearly kill her husband.”

My fists tighten and my jaw clenches. “I’m done talking about this. Find out what she needs and do it.”