The silence stretches like barbed wire, filled with two years of hurt and stubborn pride and loss. Then, quiet as a prayer: "Yeah. You too, brother."
The line goes dead, but something in my chest unclenches for the first time in years.
Not forgiveness. We're nowhere near that yet. But it's a start.
A hairline crack in the wall we built between us, and for the first time since everything went to hell, I can see light bleeding through.
I strip off my other glove and dial Lucy's number. She picks up on the third ring, voice thick with sleep but immediately alert.
"Colt? What's wrong?"
Even half-asleep, she knows something's up. Woman's got instincts like a damn bloodhound.
"Nothing's wrong, Shortie. But I need you to do something for me."
I explain about Darcy, about driving out to Beau's ranch with the good drugs. She's already moving, rustling fabric, footsteps, keys jingling.
"I'm leaving right now," she says, no hesitation. "The Draxxin's in the locked cabinet, right?"
"Yeah. Take the whole bottle. Beau'll know the dosage."
Pause. When she speaks again, her voice carries warmth that makes my chest go tight. "Colt? This is good. You and Beau talking again. Really good."
"Maybe. We'll see how itgoes."
"Hey." She waits until I grunt acknowledgment. "I'm proud of you. Both of you."
The words hit like a sledgehammer to the sternum. When's the last time someone was proud of me? When's the last time I did something worth being proud of instead of just surviving another day?
"Drive safe," I manage, because saying anything else might crack me wide open. "I'll be there soon as I can."
After she hangs up, I stand in the Hendersons' barn watching new life take its first shaky steps. The calf's up now, nursing strong, and mama watches with the fierce protective love that comes with the territory.
The parallel isn't lost on me. New beginnings. Second chances. The possibility that broken things can heal if you give them enough time and the right kind of care.
Maybe some things can be fixed. Maybe some breaks can be mended stronger than before. Maybe Lucy's been right all along, pride's just fear wearing a fancy suit, and sometimes the bravest thing you can do is ask for help.
The drive to Blackwell Ranch stretches ahead. Time to figure out what I'll say to my former best friend.
Time to imagine Lucy already there, fighting to save a calf she's claimed as her own.
Time to wonder if maybe, just maybe, we can build something better from the wreckage.
For the first time in two years, I'm driving toward Beau instead of away from him. Toward a future that might include both my best friend and the woman who's teaching us how to be whole again.
Maybe this time, we won't destroy everything we touch.
Maybe, with Lucy showing us the way, we can build something new from the ashes.
The sun climbs higher as I drive, painting the Montana sky in shades of hope I haven't seen in too damn long.
Feels like a beginning.
14
Lucy
I grip the steering wheel like it's the only thing keeping me tethered to earth as I navigate the winding mountain road toward Blackwell Ranch.
