"What about Blackjack?"
"I fed him. I think I did it right, anyway. He seemed happy."
Respect and surprise crosses Chase's face. "You took care of my horse?"
"Yeah, and Biscuit. Biscuit's been really important." I give him a grin. "We've been tag-teaming your care."
He reaches for my hand, squeezing it weakly. "Thank you."
"You don't have to thank me." I squeeze back. "You mean a lot to me, Chase."
"You mean a lot to me too."
The words are there, at the back of my throat. The ones I want to say and the ones I need to ask. But I'm scared. I know I should let this go, that he just came out of a fever, he probably feels disgusting, and doesn't understand what's been happening, but I can't stop the words. "Who's Cara Leigh?"
He stiffens, and I see him start to pull back within himself. "Someone from my past."
"Chase..."
"Thank you for taking care of me," he says again, clearly trying to end this conversation.
But I need to know. Is that his wife? Is she the one who has a hold on him? Is this the woman that made him want to help me?
"You called out her name," I tell him. "You said she ruined your life. That you can't love anyone else because of what she did."
Pain flashes across his face, and his jaw ticks. "I was out of my head."
"Were you?"
He doesn't answer, and that tells me everything I need to know.
"Okay," I say quietly. "If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. But I'm here when you're ready."
"Thank you," he whispers.
I leave him to rest, but as I walk out of the room, I can't shake the feeling that there's a ghost in this cabin. A ghost named Cara Leigh who Chase can't let go of.
And I don't know if there's room for both of us in his heart.
Twenty-Two
Chase
When I wake up, everything hurts.
My muscles ache like I've been trampled by a bull. My throat is raw. My head pounds with every beat of my heart. I try to sit up and immediately regret it, falling back against the pillows with a groan.
That's when I notice Paisley.
She's asleep in the chair next to the bed, her head tilted at an angle that's going to give her a hell of a neck ache. There are dark circles under her eyes, and her hand is resting on the edge of the bed, like even in sleep she wanted to be close to me.
How long has she been sitting there?
I shift, trying to get more comfortable, and the movement wakes her. Her eyes flutter open, and when she sees me looking at her, she straightens up quickly.
"You're awake again. You woke up for a little while last night, but fell back asleep."
I don't remember any of that. "I don't remember, I'm sorry."
