Steph told Brooke the sheriff had been very careful in what he said, but she got the impression the harassment was all Adam and his own private vendetta. Steph was unsure of the sheriff’s opinion on Tyler, but he was intent on solving the case and had the Wyoming Division of Criminal Investigation reviewing it. The DCI should be responding soon about the next steps.
“Next steps” sounded both promising and scary. Brooke was confident about Tyler’s innocence...most of the time. It was the dark of night when her mind swirled and she had doubts. Or times like now, when for no reason at all, things seemed completely wrong.
She couldn’t deny she cared for Tyler. There was something that had caught her attention that first day on the mountain after finding Sheila’s body in the bear caches. It was magnetic and real, yet also very dangerous. She didn’t worry about her physical safety, not the way people said she should, but she still worried.
Brooke stood and went to the window. Sunday morning in Irma—a few cars on the street, someone walking a dog. Normal life happened all around her while she felt like she was drowning.
She should stay away from him. For her business. For her sanity.
The thought made her chest ache.
But it was the right thing to do. The smart thing. The mature thing.
They needed to take a break. She needed space to think, to breathe, to figure out what she wanted without Tyler’s presence clouding her judgment.
Brooke picked up her phone and stared at Tyler’s name in her contacts.
She should go to his place and talk to him face to face. That’s what adults did. That’s what people who cared about each other did.
But she knew what would happen if she saw him. His eyes would meet hers and reveal the truth: his innocence, his hurt, his hope that they could make this work. She’d change her mind and convince herself they could get through this together.
She couldn’t afford to change her mind. Not about this. Not when the stakes were this high.
Brooke opened a text message.
Her fingers shook as she typed.
I can’t do this anymore. Last night was too much. I need to take a break. I’m sorry.
The words looked harsh on the screen. Cold. Not at all what she felt inside.
But if she tried to explain, she’d talk herself out of it. She’d find reasons to stay, to fight, to keep trying. And she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t risk it.
She hit send before she could delete it.
Brooke stared at the screen, waiting. Her heart pounded so loud she could hear it in her ears.
Finally, a message came through.
I understand. I don’t want to hurt you anymore. Take care of yourself.
That was it. No argument. No pleading. No asking her to reconsider.
Just acceptance.
Brooke read the message three times. Four times. She waited for more, or for some sign she had misread it.
He understood. He was letting her go without a fight.
She should feel relieved. This was what she wanted—space, distance, a chance to rebuild her life without the constant weight of Tyler’s situation dragging her down.
Brooke set the phone down and returned to the couch, sinking into it as she stared at the blank wall, tears stinging her nose.
They were done. She had ended it. It was the smart choice, the safe choice. So why’d it feel like the biggest mistake of her life?
The coffee on the side table had gone cold. Sunday stretched ahead of her, empty and quiet. She should do something—go for a run, go to church, clean the house, call Gina or Steph or Jocelyn—but she couldn’t make herself move.
She had chosen safety over love, her business and her reputation over the man who had made her feel alive.
