Colby blinked. “I didn’t know Bryce was a deputy,” he said, as Bryce crossed the street toward them.
Tristan looked at him, surprised. “Didn’t I tell you?”
Colby shook his head. He wasn’t bothered, just filing away the new information.
“Morning,” Bryce said to them both, before looking at Colby. “Boot mission?”
Colby panicked and nodded, rather than have to explain to Bryce that he was broke as broke could be. Not with Tristan watching. He didn’t want Bryce looking at Tristan like he’d chosen someone who couldn’t even buy his own boots.
“Good. You need ‘em. And I’ve got half an hour before I have to head back.” He glanced at Tristan. “You got something to do?”
Tristan blinked. “I was going to come with.”
“This is between me and your mate,” Bryce said.
Despite the ominous words, it didn’t sound like a threat. Or at least, Colby didn’t think so. He hoped he was right.
Tristan grinned. “Okay, I’ll grab a milkshake. You want one, Colb?”
“I’m good,” Colby said.
Tristan wandered off, humming softly, and Colby turned back to Bryce.
“All right,” Bryce said. “Let’s get you some boots that actually fit.”
The bell above the door gave a half-hearted jingle as they stepped inside. It was dark after the brightness of the day, but Colby could see shelves stacked with heavy-duty jeans and t-shirts, and work gloves dangling from hooks. A display of boots lined the wall at the far end.
Bryce made a beeline for it. “Size?”
“Fourteen,” Colby said, then screwed up his courage. “But I should probably say, I can’t really afford this.”
Bryce didn’t give any indication he’d heard. Instead, he scanned the shelves, pulled down three different pairs, anddropped them at Colby’s feet. “Try all of them. Walk around. If something pinches, say so.”
Not knowing what else to do, Colby crouched down to take off his boots and try the new ones. Bryce wandered off to examine a rack of button-downs. By the time Colby had tried all the boots and decided on the third pair, Bryce was back, holding two shirts, a hoodie, a sherpa-lined waterproof jacket and a couple pairs of jeans.
“Try these on,” he said, thrusting them at Colby.
Colby obediently took them, but he was confused as hell. “I thought we were here for boots.”
“We are,” Bryce said. “But you also need jeans that fit. Unless you’re happy with that whole Hulk look.”
Colby hesitated, then forced himself to say it. Maybe he hadn’t been clear enough before. “I can’t pay you back. Not for any of this.”
Bryce didn’t look surprised. He just tilted his head, like he was considering something. “You’ve got a bank account?”
“I mean—yeah. I used to.”
“All right. I’ll make a deposit.”
Colby stared at him, certain he couldn’t have heard that correctly. “Why?”
“It’s about making sure you’ve got options. No one gets to own you again, not even through kindness,” Bryce said, his eyes steady on Colby’s. “You pay me back whenever you want to. Or don’t. You protected my kid—as far as I’m concerned, you’re more than paid up.”
Colby opened his mouth, then shut it again when he realized he couldn’t find any words.
“Changing room’s back there,” Bryce added, with a nod toward the rear of the store. “Go makesure it all fits.”
Colby nodded slowly, still reeling, and headed toward the small curtained cubicle in the back. The curtain didn’t fully close, and the single bulb overhead flickered when he switched it on, but it was private enough.
