“What?” she snaps. “You got a problem with me being here? Take it up with Bodie.”
I didn’t expect that. The Sarah I remember was soft around the edges, quick to soothe, quick to laugh. This Sarah meets you head-on, her chin lifted.
“And I got paid very well for saving Lyle’s calf, so maybe point your anger somewhere else.”
What the fuck are you doing talkin’ to her, Cade?
I have no clue. I just….
“They’re desperate, that’s all it is. They’d call Ted Bundy if he could take care of their cattle.”
It’s cruel. It’s insulting. This is not who I used to be. But then she’s not who she used to be, either. That Sarah was soft, easily hurt. This woman is notmy Sarah.
She laughs, proving to me that she really isn’t the person I used to know. “Did you just call me a serial killer?”
I did, and that was dumb as fuck.
“You don’t belong here,” I bite out. It sounds lame, even to me.
“All evidence to the contrary.” She smiles at me, it’s sarcastic as fuck. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to head home.”
“Your father’s home. The man who threw you out.”
That hits, and I feel no pleasure at seeing her eyes glaze over with pain. I have no idea why I’m here talking to her, why I’m pushing her, why I’m pushing myself.
“Really? Then you must wonder why he left me everything,” she retorts.
“Cade.” Noelle’s voice reaches me, loud, screechy, not husky and somber like Sarah’s.
“Your girlfriend is calling.Go.”
“Jealous, Sarah?”
There’s a flicker of something broken in her eyes. I like seeing it, like knowing that I affect her because she’s certainly fucking with my head. But then she lets out a laugh, it’s clean, and it fucks with my mind in a way I don’t like.
“Like hell.”
I step closer to her. I can smell her—orange blossoms, along with antiseptic. “You should be jealous. She’s the kind of woman people approve of. The kind they’ll never whisper about behind her back.”
She rolls her eyes. “You lookin’ for a prize, Cade, or a partner?”
My teeth grind together. “At least she isn’t going to leave me in ruins.”
Her hazel eyes flash. “Of course not, that was your wife, wasn’t it? The drunk driver?”
The words punch the air from my lungs. My voice breaks loose, loud, raw. “Don’t you dare. Evie was in that car. Don’t you fucking use….”
She freezes, color draining from her face. “Evie?—”
“Don’t say my daughter’s name,” I thunder at her. “She survived what her mother didn’t. It was a miracle. And you don’t get to throw that in my face.”
Her hand shakes slightly as she grabs the car door handle.
For the first time since I stepped outof the dark, she looks less like steel and more like the woman I used to know—the one who cared, who hated hurting anyone.
“Cade, I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
And the damn thing is, I believe her. She means it.
