Beau places his hand back on the wheel. He purses his lips and shakes his head. "You're a better man than I ever was, Sawyer. My daughter is lucky to have you."
We reach the hospital. Colt and I are taken back immediately. They start an IV for fluids, and as soon as the tube is in my arms, I close my eyes and pass out.
40
Gramps
A noble ending.
That's all a man can hope for.
The flood water throws me about. It hurts. Everything hurts.
Some broken hearts last a lifetime.
That's what I'd told Jessie. I meant it. I broke my own heart a long time ago.
I took the keys from Cynthia Bennett's pocket, rode her horse back to her ranch and took her car. I positioned her car on the road, facing the tree. I placed her in the driver’s seat. I laid the biggest rock I could find on the gas pedal.
I watched the car slam into the tree. And just before it did, Cynthia jolted upright, and her eyes opened.
Like Beau, I'd thought she was dead.
She died instantly one second later.
I never told Beau.
Only Sheriff Monroe knew the truth, and he made sure it stayed hidden. Like many of us, the lawman has done a great amount of good, and also some bad.
What I did just now doesn't erase what I did back then. But, dear God, I hope when I get to Heaven, I can look Cynthia in the eyes and tell her I saved her son. I knew what Sawyer was thinking. He would've handed Colt to me and untied his rope if I hadn't cut myself away first.
This is my ending, and I couldn't have written it any better.
41
Jessie
Sawyer'schest rises and falls, a rhythm I'm profoundly grateful for. When he disappeared from my view, flood water sweeping him and Colt away, I was certain how it would all go.
Flash floods are sudden and powerful, and they often end in heartbreak.
Today, there are two endings.
My heart is overjoyed. It is also broken. Funny how a heart can share such opposite but equally encompassing emotions.
I long to touch Sawyer's face, brush the tips of my fingers over his cheek. I want him to wake up and kiss me.
He lies on his side. The nurse said his back required stitches in multiple places. Where he is not bandaged, he is red. Soon he will be bruised.
His hair flops over, lying against his forehead. He is so handsome, so brave and selfless. My heart, brimming with love for him, spills over, trickling through me.
His eyes open slowly, blinking and adjusting. "Jessie," he whispers.
I'm up out of my chair, leaning down to look him in those stunning gray eyes. In them, I see my future. My forever.
"Sawyer," I whimper, my fear and grief catching up to that all-consuming love I feel for him.
"Your grandpa," he starts, his voice a pained groan. "Is he…?"
