Mabel’s voice is gentle but worried. “They have the county commissioner’s ear. If Cascade gets the easement, they can force the road access through the lower meadow. They’re telling everyone the shelter is as good as closed.”
“We aren’t closing.” My jaw clenches.
Eleanor steps closer to Bella, her boots squeaking on the clean floor. “We’ve been talking to the land trust down in the valley. If we can get a conservation easement on the western half of the property, Cascade can’t touch it. The trust officer, Davis, is ready to file the application today. The state will protect the run-off basin. We just need the owner’s signature to file the application.”
Bella sets her mug on the timber mantle. “An easement doesn’t clear the back taxes. And it doesn’t pay the outstanding clinic bills. It doesn’t put fuel in the heating tank or repair the generator.”
“We can run a fundraiser,” Mabel nods. “The local businesses will pitch in. Ruth wants to do a benefit night at the PickAxe. The logging crews and the store owners all know what Wyatt does for this valley. We can raise enough for the short-term debts.”
Bella looks at the floor, her fingers tightening on the fabric of her sleeve. “A fundraiser is a temporary fix. It’s a few thousanddollars when the shelter needs a permanent budget. Wyatt needs new equipment. The runs need repairs before the spring melt. I can’t sign a conservation easement that locks the land into a deficit we can’t pay.”
“It keeps Cascade off the mountain,” Eleanor’s tone hardens.
“And leaves Wyatt with a mountain of debt he has to carry alone,” Bella counters. Her voice cracks, but she keeps it steady. “Cascade will find another way to take the land. I have to look at the numbers. I have to find a solution that doesn’t drag us both under.”
The silence in the waiting room is sharp, broken only by the crackle of the wood stove.
I turn toward the corridor. “I have chores.”
I walk back to the exam rooms, the floorboards cold beneath my boots. The town’s concern is a weight I don’t want. They mean well, but they don’t understand the math. If Bella signs the Cascade contract, the payout covers her debts, and the shelter dies. If she signs the conservation easement, she stays in a financial hole, and the shelter dies slowly under the weight of its own bills.
She’s going to sign the Cascade deal.
The realization is a cold fist in my stomach. She’s a city counselor who lives behind a phone line, talking people out of their crises while keeping her own life tidy and safe. She isn’t going to drown for a clinic she didn’t want, for a mountain she’s trying to outrun, or for a man she’s only known a handful of days.
In the dark, she held onto me like she needed a baseline, but the sun is up now. The switchbacks are clear.
I walk into the front office to retrieve Dolly’s treatment chart, needing the steady routine of dosages and vitals to quiet the noise in my head.
The Cascade contract is sitting on the desk.
Bella has printed it out—likely using the clinic’s satellite printer while service was returning. The pages are stacked neatly, the black ink stark against the white paper. The signature line is blank, but the electronic document on her phone is only a click away from being submitted. The corporate logo at the top of the page looks like a brand on the wood of this clinic.
My chest burns. I grab the clipboard containing the chart, my fingers leaving a damp smudge on the cardboard.
Bella walks into the office a second later, closing the door behind her. The click of the latch is loud in the small room. She stops when she sees me standing over the papers. She reaches up, her thumb tracing the edge of her collarbone where Jesse’s dog tags hide under her sweater.
“You’re quick. The road isn’t even dry, and you’ve already got the contract ready.” My voice is too loud in the small room, the gravel in it harsh.
“I needed to see the terms in print. I told you, the deadline is noon. I don’t have time to wait.” Bella’s shoulders go rigid.
“Then sign it.” I throw the clipboard onto the desk. It hits the papers with a loud smack, the sound echoing in the cramped space. “Get your payout and go back to your apartment. You don’t have to pretend you’re struggling with the choice.”
“Iamstruggling with it. You think I want to see this place torn down? You think I want to sell Jesse’s half to a corporation?” She flinches, her chin rising, her hazel eyes widening with sudden heat.
I step closer, my shadow falling across the desk, closing the distance between us. The scent of her—the faint traces of lavender and the heat of her skin—makes the anger flare hotter.
“Actions say otherwise. You came up here to liquidate a nuisance. You got snowed in, you had a little fun while the pass was closed, and you were trapped. But now the plows are here to rescue you. Go ahead and take the exit. It’s what you planned from the start.”
“A little fun?” Her hazel eyes flash with a sudden, hot anger. “Is that what last night was to you? A distraction while the storm passed? A way to keep warm?”
My voice drops to a harsh whisper, the gravel in it scraping. “It doesn’t matter what it was. It doesn’t change the numbers. You have bills, and Cascade is offering to make them go away. I’m not going to beg you to stay and drown with me.”
“I’m not asking you to beg.” She steps into my space, her chest rising and falling rapidly. The heat of her body is a physical line between us. “I’m asking you to look at the reality. We can’t run this place on hope. You’re white-knuckling a legacy because you think if you let it go, you’re failing Jesse again. You’re holding onto a dead man’s dream instead of looking at the living.”
“Jesse’s dream is the only thing keeping this clinic open.”
“No, it’s keeping you in a prison.” She points a finger at my chest, her voice shaking, her nail digging into the heavy canvas of my shirt. “You’ve built a fortress out of this valley because you’reterrified of losing anyone else. You think if you control every board, every dog, every contract, nobody dies. But you’re already dead. You’re just waiting for the freeze.”
