“Do you love him?”
The question hangs in the air between us like smoke. Atlee glances between us, suddenly very interested in her coffee. Nora’s face goes through a series of expressions—surprise, vulnerability, and then something that looks like resignation.
“I do,” she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s complicated.”
“It always is,” I reply, reaching over to squeeze her hand. Her fingers are cold despite the warm mug she’d been holding. “Love isn’t supposed to be easy, Nora. If it were, everyone would be doing it right.”
She lets out a shaky laugh. “I keep telling myself that I should walk away. That getting involved with someone like Truett, someone who lives dangerously, who could get hurt or worse, is stupid. But then I see him lying in that bed, and all I want to do is crawl in there with him and hold him until he’s better.”
“Then why don’t you?” Atlee asks softly. “Life’s too short to waste time on what-ifs.”
Nora looks at her, then at me. “Because what if I lose him? What if this shooting is just the beginning? What if next time…” She trails off, unable to finish the thought.
“What if you don’t?” I counter. “What if you miss out on something amazing because you’re too scared to take the risk? Look at me and Jesse. Six months ago, if someone had told me I’d be living on a ranch in the middle of nowhere, in love with a cowboy, I would have laughed them out of the room. Especially since that particular cowboy let me down easy when I kissed him on my eighteenth birthday. But here I am, and I’ve never been happier.”
“Even with everything that’s happened?” Nora asks. “Even with the danger?”
I consider this. The shooting shook me more than I care to admit. Seeing Truett lying there, seeing Jesse’s face when he thought we might lose my brother, it was terrifying. But it also showed me how precious what we have really is.
“Especially because of everything that’s happened,” I say. “It made me realize that none of us are guaranteed tomorrow. We might as well make today count. Am I okay knowing what they do? I’m still coming to terms with it, and they’ve promised me that things will change. Are they telling the truth? I guess we’ll see.”
Atlee nods enthusiastically. “That’s exactly what I told myself when I decided to help get that medicine, even though my instincts told me not to.”
“And look how that’s working out for you,” I tease, gesturing toward her. “Devlin’s got you under his protection whether you like it or not.”
She blushes again, and I can’t help but grin. “He does seem to have appointed himself my personal bodyguard, doesn’t he?”
“Honey, that man has been watching you like a hawk since the moment he brought you to the ranch that night,” Nora says, finally cracking a smile. “The protection thing is just his excuse to keep you close.”
“You think so?” Atlee’s voice is hopeful, and it’s adorable how transparent she is.
“I definitely think so.”
We spend the next hour talking, laughing, and slowly working through the knot of worry that’s been sitting in all our chests. It feels good to be with other women, to talk about feelings and fears without having to worry about appearing weak or needy. The men in our lives are wonderful, but sometimes you need your girlfriends.
When my phone buzzes with a text from Jesse saying he’s on his way back, I feel that familiar flutter in my stomach. Evenafter all this time, the thought of seeing him makes my heart race.
“I should get dressed,” I say, standing and stretching. “Jesse and Devlin are on their way back, and he promised me a good dinner.”
“Before you go,” Nora says, standing as well. “Thank you…for pushing me to think about what I really want instead of what I’m afraid of.”
“That’s what friends are for,” I reply, hugging her tightly. “And Nora? Truett’s tougher than he looks. He’s going to be fine.”
She nods, though I can tell she’s still worried. We all are.
“He was with me.”
The words come out steady and clear, even though my heart is pounding against my ribs. I meet Noah’s gaze, grateful for the dim lighting that hopefully hides the flush I can feel creeping up my neck.
Noah has kind eyes, but there’s steel underneath his gentle demeanor. He’s been asking questions of the community for days, going over the night of the shooting again and again, looking for inconsistencies in our stories.
“From what time to what time?” he asks, making notes in his small notebook.
“From around seven in the evening until the next morning,” I reply. “We had dinner, watched a movie, and then…” I let the implication hang in the air, hoping the blush on my cheeks sells the story.
Noah glances at me, his expression unreadable. “Aubree, do you know what’s going to happen if we find out you’re lying for them?”
The question sends a chill down my spine, but I force myself to maintain eye contact. “I do know, but I’m not lying, so the investigators have no leg to stand on.”
