Ever since I turned thirty a few months ago, Mom has been hounding me a bit more than usual to find someone and settle down. I know it’s coming from a good place, so it doesn’t bother me all that much. Even so, it still feels a bit like rubbing salt in the wound. I mean, it’s not like I’m single at thirty because Ilikeit.
And the dating pool in the small town of Cedar Ridge, Montana is … well, let’s saysparse. It’s an odd mix of people you went to high school with and those inappropriately out of your age range. Friends and family try to set me up every once in a while, but that never works out. Either we don’t have anything in common, aren’t in the same life stage, or we just … fizzle. Although, if I’m honest with myself, there is one reason why all those setups most likely fail.
Oneperson, that is.
But I can’t have her. Or at least, I don’t want to risk it. I huff as I pull my t-shirt over my head and turn on the shower at full blast.
Doesn’t matter that we would be perfect together, that I love her company, love pretty much everything about her. It’s a bad idea. For a lot of reasons.
Logically I know that. I’m just having a hard time conveying that information to my heart. They say the heart wants what it wants, but sometimes you just need to beat that sucker into submission.
I’m fumbling with my belt when I hear my phone vibrate from the counter. I ignore it at first, assuming it’s simply more texts from Mom, but when it continues, I realize it’s a call.
I lean forward, and the name on the screen has my eyebrows drawing together.
I grab it instantly and answer. “Cora?” I ask, confusion lacing my words.
“Hi.” Her voice comes across the phone unsteady, nervous … scared?
Concern sweeps through me. “Are you okay?”
She sucks in a deep breath. “Are you still at the ranch?”
“No, I just got home,” I say. “But I can come back,” I add quickly.
“No,” she’s saying before I even finish my last sentence. “No, don’t come all the way back.”
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“I’m, well … I’m kinda freaking out,” she says hesitantly. “I thought I’d catch you before you left, but seriously, Theo, don’t drive all the way back. We can talk tomorrow.”
I shut the shower off, the phone pressed between my shoulder and ear as I re-buckle my belt. “But you’re safe?” I press. I at least need to know that.
“Yes, sorry—I’m safe,” she says quickly. “I got an email about my visa renewal.” Her voice cracks ever so slightly.
My frown deepens. Her visa renewal?
“I was denied.”
The words don’t quite register as I pull my t-shirt back on and stride out of the bathroom. “Denied?” I echo, as if saying the word out loud will bring more clarity. In the silence that follows, I laugh at the absurdity. “You’re Canadian—why would they deny your visa?”
I jog down the stairs, stopping at the front door to slip my boots on and grab my keys before heading out into the night.
Cora is mumbling something on the other end of the phone, but I can’t quite make it out between the jostling of me hopping into my truck and her desperation. “You at your cabin?” I verify.
“Yeah,” she mumbles.
“I’ll be there in fifteen. Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out.”
We end the call, and I start my truck. Confusion spirals through me, no answer in sight. There’s no good reason Cora’s visa would be denied. It has to be a mistake. A mistake that we can fix.
Because beyond the absurdity of it, beyond her job, her life here, the idea of being at Thatcher Ranch without Cora Walker is … unbearable.
The realization hits me in the gut like a sucker punch. And suddenly I’m reliving the last two years like a flashback right before death. All the times I could have gotten closer, made a move, done something,anything.
Cora can’t go back to Canada. Leave Thatcher Ranch.
At least not until I tell her how I feel.
