“They’re not your responsibility.” She holds my gaze. “He chose them. He chose violence. You didn’t hand him that power. You survived him. That doesn’t make you guilty.”
My chest caves. “It doesn’t feel like surviving. It feels like complicity.”
“That’s trauma lying to you. Surviving is resistance. Every step you take forward is something he can’t touch.”
Since moving back, I’ve wondered what I’d do if I ran into Landon. He doesn’t live here, thank God, but he comes often. He was recently at The Barrel & Bridle—took photos, hugged constituents. I heard all about it and how freaking fabulous he is.
“He really helped me with that BLM lease.”
“He pushed my insurance claim through after the barn fire.”
“He got Jose’s sister sorted with immigration.”
He’s beloved. No wonder some people still look at me like I’m poison.
So he does his job—andrapes women in his free time. What a prince!
As if that isn’t bad enough, I also have to carry in my head and heart that stupid kiss in the greenhouse that I shared…allowed myself to share with Cade.
I touch my lips.
What the hell was I thinking?Well, you weren’t thinking, Sarah, that’s the problem.
I can still feel his breath on my wrists. I look at my scars and remember his mouth on them—gentle, apologetic.
I know Cade. He’s kind. Generous. Loving. Sexy as sin.
We learned how to kiss together. How to make love. We were each other’s firsts.
Stop it, Sarah. Stop thinking about either of the Mercer brothers.
That’s when the bell above the front door jingles.
“Anybody home?”
I wipe my hands on my jeans and step out of the treatment room where I was stocking supplies. Bodie Tiller stands in my office—rangy, sun-browned, crow’s feet deep, his hat tipped back like nothing rattles him.
“Hey, Doc.” I offer my hand. He shakes it. “Need something?”
“Can we talk a minute?”
“Sure.” I nod toward my desk.
He scans the space that used to be my father’s. He peeks into the treatment room, nods. “Place looks good. You fixed it up.”
He drops into the chair across from me.
“I updated the treatment stalls, got a new portable ultrasound and a digital X-ray that pack into my truck. Daddy had…a lot of paper charts.” I smile, thinking about the overstuffed cabinets you had to hip-check to close. “Now everything is digital: bloodwork, radiographs, herd records. I even bought a portable chute scale.”
“Your Daddy could diagnose a cow blindfolded, but he was no friend to technology.” Bodie grins, then sobers. “Listen. I’ve been meaning to sit with you. It’s no secret this town didn’t roll out the welcome mat. But I see itshifting. Mav and Aria talk you up. Elena and Duke, too. When those names speak, folks listen.”
I nod as I give him a measured look.
“I wasn’t here for all that mess,” he clips. “Heard about it, of course, when you moved back.”
Christ! Can we not talk aboutthatanymore?
“Where you from, Doc?”
