Page 9 of Flint

I make a note of the place as I climb out of my car on rubbery legs. I’ll have to take the boys here in a couple of years when they’re big enough. They’d love this.

After, we head to the pinball museum and spend a couple of hours there, talking trash and trying to best each other’s scores. When I finally get tired of that, we walk around downtown Asheville.

I don't have a lot of time to explore on my own, and it's nice to take the self-guided walking tour with him. The conversation stays light and easy as we discuss the historic buildings, trading bits of trivia we’ve learned with each other.

“Want to grab some dinner?” He asks when the sun is low in the sky and the heat of the day is fading.

When I nod, he threads our fingers together. He guides me toward a bar called The Charging Bull, complete with signage of an angry bull. “I come here whenever I’m in town.”

The first thing I see when I step into the bar is a large photo on the wall of a smiling couple holding up something golden. I squint at the caption proclaiming that Camden and Journey won the Golden Bull Testicles.

Flint sees me looking at the picture and taps it. “I know that guy. He works in my town’s fire department. Come on, let’s get a table before the dinner rush arrives. Beer here is decent, and their burgers are too dry, but their chili fries are what you really want.”

I wait until we’re settled at the table to ask, “So, how did you end up living in Courage County? Is that where your family is from?”

Grief flickers across his expression. “My parents are from upstate North Carolina. I lost them about three years ago.”

I reach across the table and take his hand in mine. I give it a gentle squeeze, wondering if their deaths are the reason for the long scar down his chest.

“It was a flood from one of the hurricanes. My mom was terrified of water. She never learned how to swim.” He shakes his head. “They were found holding onto each other, same way they’d lived their whole lives.”

“That’s so sad,” I say quietly, thinking of my mom’s death and how my father never spoke of it. All he ever told me is she got sick one day. Then he spent every day after that trying to love me enough for both of them.

Flint continues his story, “I had my pick of swim scholarships in high school, and I chose to become a Marine. My parents were proud of me. But I can’t help wondering what would have happened if I’d been here. Maybe I could have saved them.”

I squeeze his hand again. “As a mom, I wouldn’t want my son to ever carry that kind of guilt. They went knowing you loved them and that they loved you. That’s the best you can ask for in those situations.”

He grimaces. “Today is your birthday. I shouldn’t make it heavy.”

“No, I’m glad you shared,” I say. “I lost my mom when I was so young that I don’t remember her at all. Then my dad passed when I was a teenager. There's a special kind of pain that comes from watching your parents’ lives get cut short.”

The waitress approaches our table, interrupting our conversation. I order a burger and chili fries, and Flint does the same.

“What happened after your parents passed? Is that how you ended up on Valor Ranch?”

“Not long after that, I was on a mission. We were doing some demolition in an abandoned part of the town. Thought I heard someone in a building cry out, so I went inside. Whole place collapsed on me.”

“You went in after someone else, that’s really brave.”

He groans. “Don’t look at me like a hero. I’m not anything like that. I was just hoping to find the mission that would let me join my parents. Instead, I lost a few organs and spent too long in hospitals and rehab centers. Marines couldn’t find a place for me after that, so Bronco took me in.”

“And you don’t want to run into collapsing buildings anymore?” I ask softly, my stomach tightening at the thought of this strong man hurting himself.

He shakes his head. “No, I miss them every day. I always will. It was just the grief, and I still think I heard something that day, crazy as it sounds. Plus, the ranch is a pretty good place to be. Always something to do. I’m around people that get it, who understand how serving feels like one of the coolest, hardest, and most rewarding things you've ever done. And at the same time, it's also something that fractures you in a way you never could have imagined.”

I nod like I understand, even though I don't. I’ve never served in any branch though I’ve always admired the men and women who have. “You have community around you.”

The food arrives, and when the waitress is gone, Flint redirects the conversation back to me. “What's your life like when you're not busy hanging out with a hot cowboy you just met?”

I chuckle at the way he describes himself as hot. I like his good-natured sense of humor and the way he doesn't take himself too seriously. “Well, I got married young, had twins. They’re both five now. I divorced my husband when they were about two.”

“Is he in the picture now?” Maybe it’s my imagination but I almost think I hear the slightest bit of jealousy in his tone.

“No, he fled to Thailand rather than pay child support,” I admit softly. It’s not what the boys know, but it’s the truth. I could forgive Richard for the cheating and the other women. I could even forgive him for making the divorce a difficult process. But the fact that he abandoned his children without a backward glance has always made me furious.

I emailed him twice, telling him he could have a relationship with the boys over email and video if he wanted. I told him that I didn’t care about the child support, that I only wanted him to be in their lives. Both messages went unanswered, and I haven’t reached out since.

Flint’s next words shock me. “Do you want me to track him down?”