“No,” I answer without hesitation. “I can’t make up for how I fucked up. I can only move forward with you, next to you, behind you, in front of you…wherever you need me. Wherever you’ll let me be.”
We circle slowly, the rhythm easy, because we know each other’s bodies.
A pulse hammers in her neck, telling me this conversation has jarred her. It wasn’t my intention, but I’m glad it’s affecting her. Maybe this way she’ll believe my intentions for the future.
The chandelier light catches on her face. She’s so beautiful. So Strong.
Mine.
This time, I’ll fight for her the way a man should, the way a boy didn’t know how to. This time, I’ll prove to her that I am worthy of her because I’ve worked at it. This time, I will not lose her.
The song ends, and they immediately start playing George Strait’s ‘Amarillo By Morning’.
“That’s enough, Cade. Let’s find our?—"
“One more song, Dove.Please,” I implore. “I just want to be in a moment where the past isn’t clawing at me, where the world has stopped whispering. Where it’s just…you, me, and the music.”
She gives in, and I hold her for a little bit longer, feeling a small measure of rightness in a sea of wrong.
CHAPTER 28
sarah
The call comes just after midnight. My phone rattles on the nightstand, and for a second, my sleep-heavy brain thinks it’s a nightmare.
Then I hear Cade’s voice, his words tumbling like rocks down a cliff.
“Dove, I need you at Blue Rock.”
I sit up. “Is Evie okay?”
“She’s fine. Fast asleep. Need you, Dove.Now.”
By the time I slam my truck door shut at the ranch, my heart’s already hammering, dread clawing through me. Floodlights blaze over the pens, throwing long shadows across the dirt. The air smells wrong—burned feed, sour water, and something coppery that makes my stomach drop.
Dodge waves me over, his hat low, a flashlight beam jerking across the ground. “Over here, Dr. K.” His voice is grim, flat.
I run, boots pounding the earth. What I see makes me stumble.
An Angus bull lies in the dirt, sides heaving, foam crusting at its mouth.
Not Thunder—thank God—but one of the younger bulls, strong and sleek just yesterday. Now he’s twitching, eyes rolled back.
“What happened?” I drop to my knees, already checking vitals. Pulse rapid, breath ragged.
Poison—again.
“Molasses,” Dodge says, giving the puddle a kick. “Stinks of kerosene.”
The fumes claw at my throat. Somebody spiked the molasses. On purpose.Cruel.
Cade’s kneeling opposite me, shirt half-buttoned, hair damp like he just rolled out of bed. His hands shake as he strokes the bull’s hide.
“Fix him, Sarah. Please.” His voice cracks. “I can’t lose one.”
I don’t tell him the truth—that it’s already too late. I work anyway, sliding a tube, flushing what I can, shouting for Dodge to bring buckets of clean water and charcoal slurry.
My hands move fast, automatic, even though my experience tells me my efforts are going to be futile.
