Mabel had been in heaven.
He headed into town to get to Stormy’s tire shop to have snow tires put on her vehicle and fill her truck bed with puzzle weights so that bitch didn’t fishtail on snow or ice when they got it (and that would happen soon) and land his woman in a ditch.
While he was waiting for the men to install the tires, he went to his friend’s office and knocked on the doorframe.
Stormy looked up from his computer, appearing irritable, a way Stormy looked a lot after Angelica got hold of him.
He’d been mellowing out lately since Stormy’s son, Viggo’s mom, who also happened to be Ledger’s mom, skipped town to find her next victim.But he still wasn’t back to the Stormy he was, and maybe he never would be.
Hutch had known Stormy a long time.
But this was the first Hutch felt this in his gut.
Storm used to be a fun guy.
Not the asshole kind who got drunk and catcalled women.
But he’d have a laugh.Have a drink.Get laid.Up for a road trip, a fishing trip or a shooting trip.
He still was that, just less of it.
It wasn’t just that he was a single dad.
It was how bad he got played by a woman, and not one he even liked.
“Hey, Hutch,” he called.
“Getting Mabel’s snow tires put on.Thought I’d pop in.You busy?”
As answer, Stormy swung a hand to the chairs opposite him at his desk.
Hutch strolled in, sat down and gestured to the computer.“Problems?”
“Other than I need an assistant?No.I just fuckin’ hate office work.”
“I thought you found someone,” Hutch replied.
“Yeah.Told you that this weekend.Fired her yesterday after the fourth time I explained she’s here to do the fucking filing and not flirt with my guys.So now I’m hiring again.”
“Sorry, man,” Hutch replied, and meant it, not for the first time thankful he had one employee: himself.
“Me too.”Stormy blew out a breath before he asked, “All good?I heard you had some commotion up there on Stony Bluff.”
He told Stormy the story of Mabel, Paisley and The Lion and The Lamb.
Stormy was silent and looked stormy, while Hutch spoke.
And when he was done, Stormy asked, “Your woman okay?”
“She’s more okay than I am.”
“I hear you, man,” Stormy said with commiseration.“Since that happened, been avoiding my phone and the news.Don’t want to see our town spread all over that shit again.”
Hutch wasn’t a hermit or a philistine.He kept abreast of local headlines on theTri-Lake Chronicleand theMisted Pines Herald, and he readTheNew York Timesnewsletter every morning, and had a subscription toThe Atlantic.
They’d been all over theChronicleand theHerald, and when he checked, he saw they got some play in Seattle and Spokane papers, but although it was reported, it was barely a blip beyond that.
No guns fired, blood spilled, dead bodies or towering infernos, just fentanyl and religious fanatics.Therefore, this time, they hadn’t gone viral.
