I wasn’t going to lie, part of me would have preferred it if he’d sat me down and handed me a list of What Mason Needs To Do To Sort His Shit Out, but I knew that wasn’t how this worked. The only one who could figure out what I needed to do was me.
Funnily enough, though, just talking about the fog I’d been under for the past months—past years, probably—helped me see it for the first time. Like it had been invisible up until the moment I’d verbalized it, even though it had pressed down on every aspect of my life. And seeing it didn’t make it magically roll back and let the sunlight in, but it let me understand that it was real, that it was tangible, and that there were things I could do—therapy, routines, meds—to manage it. If I could see it, then I could also see a way through it. And that would take time and work, but like Adrian Conrad had pointed out with a wry smile, I wasn’t allergic to either of those things, and didn’t I owe it to myself?
When he put it like that, it seemed obvious.
Not easy, but obvious.
A week ago I would have bowed under the pressure of one more shit thing, but today I’d broken instead, and maybe that was for the best. Because when Adrian had asked me if I’d meant what I’d told Cash about a car crash solving all my problems, I’d thought about it. I probably could have passed it off as a throwaway comment, made when I was overtired and not thinking straight. I could have said that I hadn’t really meant it and probably even believed it myself. But in that moment Ihadmeant it, and it frightened me that not only had I thought it but that it hadn’t even scared me at the time. A thought like that should have been accompanied by flashing red lights and alarm bells, not just a sense of weary acceptance.
I hated that I’d scared Cash, but I was so glad that at least one of us had heard the alarms.
Cash was with Kayla in reception when I said goodbye to Adrian.
“Want to tell me what happened with the calving?” Kayla asked once she’d already informed me she’d cleared my calendar for the day.
“It died, and he’s threatening to sue me,” I said. The threat wasn’t any less dire now the sun was up, but after my talk with Adrian, I felt slightly better prepared to face it. Or at least talk about it.
Kayla grimaced. “Whose calf was it?”
“Trent Lee’s.”
She rolled her eyes. “Trent’s a dick and the whole county knows it. You should give Alan Springer a call. Pretty sure Trent’s threatened to sue him a bunch of times too.”
“Really?”
“I’ll give you his number,” she said. “Give him a call when you’re up for it.”
“Maybe,” I said, cautious hope welling in my chest. I wasn’t crazy about the idea of calling someone I’d never met and introducing myself as the man who’d killed one of their clients’ calves, but I trusted Kayla, and if she thought it would help, then she was probably right.
Cash edged closer, bumping his shoulder against me. He looked tired. The shadows under his eyes were as dark as bruises.
I put an arm around him. “Thanks for calling Adrian.”
His brow creased.
“Mr. Conrad,” I said.
“Oh, first name terms,” he whispered through the hint of a smile. He leaned into me. “So, what are we gonna do today?”
Today? What was I gonna do for the rest of my life? But it was a lot easier to think about breakfast first and worry about everything else much, much later.
I sent Kayla home for the rest of the day and set the clinic’s phone to send everything to the message bank. Then Cash put Dog on his leash, and we set off on the walk to Main Street and Gobble de Goose. Guilt stirred in my gut at taking the day off, but I was also sure I wouldn’t have been in the right headspace to work today. I’d done enough damage last night with the calf.
Although, as the fresh air and sunlight worked their calm magic and my mind cleared, I remembered that I’d done everything I could, and I’d done it correctly, and sometimes things went sideways for no good reason at all. That was the nature of the job. Hell, it was the nature of the universe. All I could ever do was my best, and I’d done that last night.
My newly discovered quiet sense of self-belief turned out to be wobbly. At Gobble de Goose, the sight of the line of people inside caused me to pull up short. How fast did news travel in a place like Goose Run? Would Trent Lee already have spread the word about how the useless city vet had killed his calf? Smalltowns were full of people who were interconnected in hundreds of ways. Just because the people inside the bakery didn’t look like they read every issue ofProgressive Farmer, that didn’t mean they didn’t know Trent or his business.
Cash squeezed my hand and drew me over to the bench on the sidewalk. “Wait here,” he said. “I’ll get it.”
Dog and I sat obediently.
When Cash came back out with two coffees and a paper bag, we didn’t turn back toward the clinic like I’d thought. Instead, we continued along Main Street in the direction of the large white church. Before we reached it, we branched off into a park. There was a children’s playground at one end of it, empty at this hour, but the rest of the block was dotted with trees and benches and crisscrossed with paved paths. There was an old wrought-iron bandstand in the center of the park and even a duck pond. I kept a tight grip on Dog’s leash as we passed the ducks, but he didn’t seem too interested.
We found a bench that overlooked the pond. A soft breeze ruffled my hair, fresh and cool. Dog lay at my feet with his head on his paws. Cash handed me my coffee and I took a sip, humming in satisfaction. “This is good.”
Cash grinned. “When Chase started there, he couldn’t even work the machine. Don’t tell him I told you, though.”
“My lips are sealed,” I said. My stomach growled. “What’s in the bag?”
