Three ranch calls, two emergency surgeries, and a colicky horse that took four damn hours to stabilize. The kind of day that reminds me why I love this work and also why I need something soft and warm to come home to.
Lucy.
All I want right now is to wrap my arms around her, breathe in that vanilla scent that's become as necessary as whiskey after a hard day, and forget about everything except the way she melts against me.
Maybe we could grab takeout from Mabel's diner, head back to my apartment above the clinic, and spend the evening tangled together on my couch. Simple. Perfect.
That fantasy dies a quick death the moment I walk through the clinic door and see Gabriel standing there in full uniform, all authority and barely contained possession as he looks at Lucy like she's already his for the taking.
"Ready to go home?" he's asking, and something in his tone makes my jaw clench hard enough to crack teeth.
Home. Like it's a given that Lucy belongs at his place, in his bed, in his life without question or discussion.
"Actually," I hear myself saying, my voice coming out rougher than I intended, "I was thinking Lucy might want to stay here tonight."
Gabriel's blue eyes flick to mine, and I can see the challenge there. The reminder that he's been the one taking care of her, the one she's been staying with, the one who's got some kind of claim on her time that the rest of us are supposed to just accept.
"She's been staying at my place for medical reasons," Gabriel says, slipping into that sheriff voice that's meant to end arguments before they start. "Those reasons haven't changed."
Medical reasons my ass. I can see the bite mark on her neck from here, fresh and dark and absolutely not medical.
"Haven't they?" I step closer, feeling that familiar temper start to simmer in my gut. "It looks like Lucy's recovered just fine. Maybe it's time she had some options about where she spends her nights.”
The clinic door chimes again, and I don't have to turn around to know it's Beau. I can feel his presence like a storm front moving in.
"Afternoon," he says to Gabriel and me, polite as Sunday service, before turning to Lucy with something warmer in his voice. "I brought you these. Thought they might brighten up the clinic."
Sunflowers. Of course. Trust Beau to show up with the perfect gesture, the kind of thoughtful romantic bullshit that makes the rest of us look like we were raised in a barn.
I watch Lucy's face light up as she accepts the bouquet, and something ugly and possessive twists in my gut like a knife.
"I was hoping," Beau continues, and there's something different in his voice now, something that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up, "that you might want to come back to the ranch tonight. For dinner. I make a mean pot roast, and I thought we could watch the sunset from the hill."
And there it is. The gauntlet thrown down, polite as poison and twice as deadly. All three of us here, all three of us wanting the same thing, and Lucy caught in the middle like a calf between hungry wolves.
"So," Gabriel says, his voice deceptively calm, "we're back to this."
"Back to what?" I ask, though I know exactly what he means.
"Back to competing for her attention instead of figuring out how to share it."
The word 'share' hits the air like a lit match thrown into spilled gasoline. Because that's what this is really about, isn't it? The fact that we're all pretending we can make this work while none of us actually knows how to step back and let the others have what we want for ourselves.
"Maybe," Beau says quietly, and there's something in his tone that makes me look at him more carefully, "the question isn't about sharing. Maybe it's about what Lucy wants."
What Lucy wants. As if any of us have actually bothered to ask her instead of standing here like territorial bulls, marking our respective claims on her time and attention.
I glance at Lucy, taking in her wide eyes and the way she's clutching those damned sunflowers like they're the only thing keeping her upright.
She looks overwhelmed, uncertain, and I realize with a sick twist of guilt that we're doing exactly what she's probably been afraid we'd do all along. Making her choose. Forcing her into a corner where any decision she makes will hurt someone.
But the rational part of my brain is drowning in a tide of frustration and exhaustion and two years' worth of resentment that has nothing to do with Lucy and everything to do with the man standing across from me with his perfect flowers and his perfect manners and hiscomplete inability to fight for anything when it actually matters.
"You know what?" I say, my voice getting rougher by the word. "Maybe the question is about fairness. About how Gabriel's had Lucy in his house for damn near a week now, playing protector and provider while the rest of us get whatever scraps of time he's willing to share."
Gabriel's jaw tightens like a vise. "I was following medical protocol."
"Medical protocol?" I laugh, but there ain't a drop of humor in it.
