“It’ll be quite the investment of time and energy, whether here or at the ranch,” Cynthia warned. I knew full well how tricky rehabbing even basic horse injuries could be, but I made a go-on gesture before she continued, “And it might not yield the desired results.”
“I’m in.” Again, Carson was quick to answer before me. “Tell me what to do.”
“I’ll be sure and tell Kat that you want to take point on his rehab.” Softening my gaze in his direction, I tried for a gentle reminder that the ranch had final say. As much as I admired Carson’s commitment to Linus, my heart already ached with the possibility of an outcome he wouldn’t like.
However, I also wanted to hear all of Cynthia’s recommendations, so I took careful notes as she reviewed options for both in-hospital care, like hydrotherapy, as well as physical therapy exercises Carson and others could try on the ranch. As we neared the appointment time to discuss RC’s condition, Cynthia offered to take Carson for a demonstration of some of the treatments she’d mentioned, so I ended up going alone to the review of RC’s pathology report.
Which was fine. Absolutely fine. No need to stress over seeing Scott again. Naturally, no matter how much I told myself this, my brain stayed on red alert for conflict.
Dr. Song ran the meeting, and she was a consummate professional as she went over options. We brought Kat in on speakerphone, so she could weigh in on whether to have the mass removed or to continue to watch it. Because Carson and I were due to leave the next morning, scheduling was an additional consideration. If RC had surgery, he likely wouldn’t be in any shape for transport tomorrow, and I couldn’t guarantee when I’d next be in the Denver area.
Luckily, however, Dr. Song presented the option of doing the surgery on Monday and having RC transported back to theranch the following week. The field team at the equine hospital had some appointments around Durango and was willing to transport RC after he had time to recover.
Everyone agreed that RC’s range of motion was the most important factor, and going ahead with removal seemed like the prudent choice. That decided, we went over the necessary details, but my attention kept drifting back to Carson. I was eager to go find him after the appointment concluded, but Scott waylaid me in the hall as we exited the conference room.
That red-alert siren in my head resumed shrieking as he stepped in front of me.
“I see you haven’t changed,” Scott observed conversationally as if we were old friends catching up, which we definitely were not.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I narrowed my eyes at him, considering whether he had any basis for guessing about Carson and me or if he was about to bring up more tired arguments.
“Still idealizing the life of the small-town vet.” Scott made a vague gesture. Yup. Same old beef. I resisted the temptation to roll my eyes as he continued, “You could easily do the procedure yourself if you had the right facility and support. You were a damn fine equine surgeon, Jude.”
“So I was.” Somehow, I managed a flippant tone, as if the decision to leave my role here hadn’t been agonizing. At the time, I’d been swamped with so much guilt and anguish over my father’s passing that I’d felt I had no choice. Eight years on, though, I was way more certain it was the life for me. “I’m also a damn good small-town vet. It suits me.”
Scott made a loud, skeptical noise. “And your social life?”
“What about it?” I pursed my lips. No way was I admitting even a twinge of loneliness to Scott.
“Are there even any other queer people around in the boonies?” He raised one eyebrow as if he’d already come to a conclusion.
“Not my business to share.” I glared at him. Maverick and Colt were hardly hiding, but I’d never divulge private client info like marital status. And if I’d found the singles scene more than lacking, I sure wasn’t confessing that.
“Closet cases.” Scott snorted.
“Didn’t say that.” I put the full weight of my frustration at his narrow-mindedness into my voice. “But I’m not a gossip.”
“I know.” Scott let out a heavy sigh, all the bluster leaving his expression as his shoulders drooped. “I’ve missed you. Been what, eight years? Yet you continue to plague my thoughts every so often. You’re a hard act to follow.”
My teeth ground together. Yesterday, Carson had said the responsibility wasn’t mine alone, but the amount of regret swarming through me certainly didn’t feel that way. I’d hurt an otherwise decent friend. Anger at my naive obliviousness at the time made my voice come out low and strained.
“I’m sorry for how things ended, but I couldn’t be what you need, Scott.”
“You could have tried.” Scott’s tone was sharper than a set of spurs digging into my side.
I shook my head, unsure how to answer in a way that wouldn’t cause further hurt. As I deliberated, Carson approached from the other end of the hallway. Relief surged through me.
“Got a list of exercises for Linus.” Carson held up a stack of papers as he came up next to me.
“Great. We can?—”
Scott cut me off with a frustrated noise. “We were?—”
“Finishing up.” My turn to interrupt. I needed out of this conversation in the worst way, and while I hated using Carsonas an escape, no good would come of rehashing old wounds with Scott.
“Fine. Have it your way.” Scott’s voice was measured, like I was trying his patience, but clearly he had decided to return to being a professional in front of Carson. “Dr. Song will be in touch about RC’s procedure.”
With that, he bustled away, leaving a rather confused Carson squinting at me.
