I love the mountains. They’ve stood for millennia. Earthquakes, storms, fire, time itself—and still they endure. Their strength inspires me to believe that I can, too.
The tears come hot and fast, spilling before I can stop them, making me feel small. Pathetic.
I hear my therapist’s voice in my head:“You aretough, Sarah—but you are also human. The fact that you still respond to what was done to you doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human. Triggers don’t mean you’re broken. They mean you survived.”
I bow my head, unable to keep the broken sounds from tearing free.
I cry for the girl I used to be, for the years stolen from me, for the child I just pushed into Dodge’s care to protect her from the monster in polished boots.
I cry because Cade never believed me. Because part of me still aches for him. Because all of it feels too heavy to bear.
The mountains don’t move. The wind doesn’t answer. It’s just me, breaking apart under the weight of it all.
My hands press into my waist, elbows jutting out as if I can hold myself together, but I can’t. I bend forward, sobs ripping through me, tearing out of my throat in jagged, ugly sounds I can’t swallow back. My whole body shakes.
Arms close around me, and I see bruised hands. I’m not afraid of this man, this touch. This is Cade. I know him. I know his smell. He holds me—my back to his chest. For a heartbeat, I let myself fall against him. For a heartbeat, I pretend it’s safe.
And then I scream, pulling away from him. The sound bursts out of me like fire, clawing up my throat.
He jerks back, his arms falling away as if I burned him. My cries echo against the mountainside, shrill. He stumbles a step away, his face pale, eyes wide.
“I’m sorry,” he says, voice cracking, ragged.
I shake my head so hard my braid whips my face. “No. Don’t. Don’t you dare.”
“Sarah—”
“You ruined me.” The words fly out, sharp as glass, cutting my own tongue on the way. “You ruined my life. You took everything from me when you looked me in the eyes and called me a liar.”
He blinks, and tears spill, fast and hot, carving lines down his cheeks. “I know. I know, Dove,” he chokes out. “I love you, baby. I never stopped.”
I let out a bitter, ragged laugh, a sneer twisted through tears. “You don’t even know what that means.” My voice trembles, rising. “Back then, you were a kid. Fine. You didn’t understand. But now? What’s your excuse for how you’ve been treating me now?”
His shoulders sag, his mouth trembles. “I don’t have one.”
Silence falls, heavy, unbearable. Only the sound of both of us breathing, breaking.
“I couldn’t believe it,” he confesses, his words so faint I almost miss them. “I couldn’t believe what you said about him.”
“But you believed what he said about me,” I fling back at him. And a fresh onslaught of pain rips through me. “You believedhim. You believedhim.You believedhim.” I am shouting now.
He comes closer but doesn’t touch me. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? You didn’t bust a fence post, Cade. You. Killed. Me. Sorry doesn’t cut it, cowboy.”
Tears are streaming down his face. He isn’t wiping them. His blue eyes reflect his pain. I have no doubt he’s hating himself right now. I have no doubt he feels guilty as hell.
I breathe slowly and narrow my eyes at him. “What happened, huh? How come you believe me?”
He looks at me, cut open, eyes full of horror. “I asked him. I saw it on his face.”
I study him carefully. “You asked him?”
He dips his chin, uncertain. “I…never asked him if he raped you. I finally did, and I knew from how he answered. I knew. I know.”
My voice quivers. “Youneverasked him?”
His face is a map of suffering, every line showing it. He shakes his head slowly, as if it’s too heavy.
