Brandon Colt

“The fucking Tipsy Horse.” Brandon hit the old sign hanging above the door before pushing in like one of those storms that announced themselves for days and still caught people off guard. Just off the main drag of Farrand– where it had always been, sticky floors and walls that had definitely seen a fire or two. He might’ve set at least one of them too. Farrand never changed much and neither did Brandon. No matter how far away he got from this place.

“You here to stay this time?” Some old timer at the bar asked as soon as she sat. The bartender had been asking that same question for ten years now, ever since he started the pastime of leaving and limping back.

“Nah, you know me Mick. Got better things to do than rot in this backwater town.” His hand wrapped along a long neck beer and he washed out the taste of regret with a long pull. It was easy enough to say but the words rang hollow. Now more than ever.

Mickey just shook his head and moved on to another patron with probably more sense and more money than him. But it didn’t matter because his whole world had stopped the moment he saw her. His heart still did that thing even after all these years. And Brandon knew, sure as he knew the sky was blue, that he’d be chasing her again.

“It’s like you can smell me darlin’,” He stood, already making her way over like he had any right to. “Missed you.”