“Hide in the bathroom and call you. I know.” I pat my backpack. Frank sewed a hidden pocket on the inside to hide my cell phone. Before…only my parents had one. And Frank spent hours the other night telling me how much it cost, how hard it would be to replace, and how important it was that I never let the battery die.
We don’t say another word to each other until he pulls up in front of Larimer High. “It’s going to be okay, Nash.”
His quiet words don’t reassure me. Nothing will ever be okay again. Not really. But even though I hate it here, he and Duncan are the only “family” I have left. So I nod. “Yeah. Maybe.”
I shut the door, sling my backpack over my shoulder, and stare up at the single-story building that takes up an entire city block. Nash Grace’s first day of school. Nash Grace’s first day of…anything.
Kids wander up the steps in twos and threes, and I start to follow, but then turn and offer Frank a little wave. “Bye. Uh…Pops. See you later.”
He doesn’t smile. He knows better than that. “Have a good day. Nash. And remember.”
Be careful.
Yeah. I’ll remember. I’ll always remember.
Four Years Ago
Raelynn
Lightning arcs across the gray-black sky. I call out to Brooks, but the heavy rumble of thunder steals the sound.
Rain falls in thick, blinding sheets, plastering my clothes to my skin. The Stetson keeps the water out of my eyes—barely—but the rest of me is soaked through.
My horse rears up, and I tighten my hold on the reins. “Whoa, Gracie. Settle. Settle!”
She does, though if I’m not careful, she’ll toss me ass over tea kettle and I’ll break my damn neck.
At the far end of the pasture, Brooks kneels next to one of the fences, running razor wire between two freshly reinforced posts. The storm blew in early this morning, and we found a dozen cows wandering toward the road after dinner. I coaxed two of the injured back to the barn, then started rounding up the herd while Brooks worked on the repairs.
We’ve been out here for hours. All the cows are penned in the upper pasture, and if we’re lucky, we’ll both be back in the house, warm and dry, before the storm gets any worse.
“Brooks! Wrap it up. We need to get inside, now!” I urge Gracie faster down the hill, but my husband’s horse, Buddy, spooks at the next thunderclap and bolts toward the stables.
For a long moment, Brooks holds my gaze. I nod. Twenty-two years together—even if I did spend ten of them in the Air Force—and we don’t need words. He’s almost done, and needs me to get to Buddy.
I urge Gracie around and dig my heels into her sides. “Come on, girl. Get a move on.”
It takes forever to catch the brown and white gelding, and even longer to get him to follow me back to the edge of the property.
Brooks isn’t where I left him. His bag sits next to one of the posts, but razor wire flaps in the wind, untethered.
“Brooks! Where’d you get off to?” I holler into the wind. I’m still five hundred feet away up the hill. If he went over—or under—the fence, I wouldn’t be able to see him.
Buddy whines, pulling his reins free from my grip. But he doesn’t bolt this time. Just starts trotting down the hill. I point Gracie after him and squeeze my heels around her massive barrel.
She follows, but it’s so muddy, we start to slip. If she breaks her leg, that’s it for her, so I pull back on the reins.
Buddy stops, and I squint into the deluge. Until my heart seizes in my chest.
His black Stetson tumbles toward me, mud staining the brim. In a shallow ditch, my husband lies on his back staring up at the angry sky.
“Brooks?” I jump off the horse, slipping and sliding in the thick muck until I fall to my knees at his side. “Baby, talk to me.”
Cupping his cheek, I pray he’ll look at me. Blink. Say something. Anything. Even in the rain, I can smell the ozone. Patting him down, ripping at his shirt, I find the wound. “Oh, God. No.”
A spiderweb of reddish scars spreads over his chest. The black scorch mark at his shoulder from the lightning strike would still be smoking if it weren’t for the rain.
I bite down on my glove and yank it off with my teeth. Pressing my fingers to his carotid artery, I hold my breath. One beat. Two. He’s still alive.
