But he's already walking away, hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders rigid with whatever he's not saying. I watch until the shadows swallow him whole, leavingme slumped against the door with his jacket still around my shoulders and the phantom heat of his almost-kiss burning on my lips.
Inside the clinic, I move through the routine of checking on the overnight patients like a woman sleepwalking. The animals watch me with trusting eyes, these simple creatures who don't know what it's like to want things that could destroy you.
I sink onto the floor outside the recovery kennels, and Bear whines softly. I slip my fingers through the bars to stroke his nose, needing the comfort of something uncomplicated.
"What am I doing, boy?"
Three men. Each one calling to different broken parts of me.
Gabriel with his steady strength that makes me feel protected instead of trapped.
Colt with his matching damage and eyes that understand.
Beau with his quiet intensity and texts that make my heart do stupid, fluttering things.
And now I know that Colt and Beau once loved someone together. Shared her.
The thought should scandalize me. Instead, it sends heat spiraling through my core like liquid fire.
What would it be like, being precious enough to share? Being held between them, loved by both, never having to choose because choosing would mean losing part of myself?
I press my palms against my eyes. Six weeks until I turn twenty-one. Six weeks to stay hidden, stay safe, stay sane.
But as I sit in the quiet clinic, wrapped in Gabriel's jacket with Beau's texts on my phone and the memory of Colt's broken smile haunting me, I know I'm already lost.
Tomorrow, I'll remember the dangers. Tomorrow, I'll rebuild my walls and count down the days and plan my escape.
Tonight, I let myself imagine what it would be like to stay. To be a girl who gets to choose love over survival. To heal alongside three broken men instead of running from my own damage.
It's a dangerous dream.
But tonight, sitting in this small Montana clinic with hope and want burning in my chest, I let myself believe it might be possible.
12
Beau
The barn smells of sweet hay and approaching death.
I've been sitting in Darcy's stall since four this morning, watching her small body fight a war she's losing. The orphaned calf Lucy fussed over now lies on her side, each breath a labored wheeze that cuts through the pre-dawn quiet.
Stars still pierce the Montana sky through the open barn doors, but they're fading fast. Soon the hands will arrive for morning chores, and I'll have to pretend I haven't spent the last five hours wrestling with my own damn foolishness.
I check my phone again. Still nothing.
The screen's harsh light makes me squint in the dim barn. Three messages sent. Zero responses. The evidence of my stupidity glares back at me in blue text bubbles, each one more pathetic than the last.
Still thinking about that moment in the barn.Sent at 10:47 PM. Christ almighty. What kind of grown man sends texts like that?
Right about when she'd probably would be out living her life, dancing, laughing, being young and free.
Things that don't include waiting around for messages from broken-down ranchers who should know better.
Hope you're having a good night.11:07 PM. As if she'd want to hear from me while she's out with friends, probably at the Dusty Spur, being everything I'm not. Young, uncomplicated, alive.
And the worst one:Sweet dreams, Sunshine.
12:31 AM. Past midnight, when loneliness and want had goaded me into foolishness. Can't even blame whiskey. Stone-cold sober and still stupid enough to put that nickname in writing.
