“We are, too,” she says like she’s five. And there it is—how wrong we are. She’s twenty-seven, talking like a teenager.
“Noelle. I’m sorry, but this is over. I gotta focus on my ranch and my kid.”
Her eyes flash, and her pout turns mean. “I did you a favor letting you be seen with me.”
I lift my brows.
Damn girl, that’s the best you got?
“You should be grateful I’m your girlfriend. Men would kill to have me.”
“Then you should find one who will,” I remark calmly. “I ain’t him.”
She realizes she’s stepped in it, spins on her heel, mutters a curse, and tears out.
I head back toward the barn to check the herd. And while I’m at it, I stop lying to myself.
I never got over Sarah Kirk. Not when she left. Not when I married Jeanine. Not ever.
And I have no idea what to do about it.
CHAPTER 22
sarah
Idrive the twenty minutes to the county hospital like my hair’s on fire. As a vet, one would think I wasokaywith hospitals. Absolutely not.
I’ve spent time in the emergency room. I’ve also spent time in the psych ward after the ER doctor sewed me up.
I fucking hate them.
Everything’s so clean, so white, so sterile. The bleach-and-lemon smell stings my eyes, like they’re trying to scrub life’s mess off the walls. It just drags me back to the time I was so weak I didn’t want to live.
And yet, when I received a call from Gilbert, telling me that Bodie had broken his leg, and he needed me to be on call for all of Bodie’s clients, I drove straight to him.
The county hospital is twenty minutes from Wildflower Canyon, the closest place equipped to set a leg right. It’s a small squat brick building serving three small towns—but compared to Wildflower Canyon’s clinic, it’shuge. Fluorescent lights buzz inside, ambulances idle outfront, and the smell of asphalt and disinfectant mixes in the evening air.
Ugh!
A nurse takes me to the room where Bodie is.
He’s propped up in bed, his leg wrapped in plaster and elevated on a stack of pillows. Even pale as chalk, he still manages a lopsided grin, as if to say,Don’t fuss over me,when he sees me.
“Damn horse got the better of me,” he rasps. “Gilbert cinched too quick. Should’ve warned him. The horse spooked. I took the kick square. Leg snapped like a twig.”
I step closer, fingers twitching to check the cast even though the doctors already did. “How bad is it?”
He shifts slightly, wincing as the movement jars him. “Clean break. Docs say I’ll be hobbling around in no time. Maggie…that’s my daughter, she’s not buying it, though.”
On cue, his daughter sweeps back into the room, a paper cup of coffee in one hand, her phone in the other. She’s a smaller, sharper version of him, her worry disguised as impatience.
“Hi, I’m Sarah Kirk.” I offer my hand, and she clasps it without hesitation.
“I’m so glad to meet you. Dad can’t stop singing your praises; says you’re the best vet he’s ever worked with.”
I flush at the compliment.
“Which is a good thing,” she continues. “‘Cause Dad is not limping anywhere for weeks.” She sets the coffee down, fluffs his pillow, then smooths the blanket over him like he’s eighty instead of just stubborn.
