Page 71 of Saddle Storm

Before I leave, I make sure to stop at the nurse’s desk to let her know about my conversation with Dad and to keep an eye on him.

“Family drama, got it,” Bridgett says. “I’ll up his rounds tonight and tomorrow.”

“Thank you. Oh, and he said something about moving him to a shared room? Do I need to talk to the billing department? Increase monthly payments?” I’m sure that’s what this is about.

“Payments?” Her fingers move across her keyboard. “Oh no, you got that all squared away, love.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Not my department but doesn’t look like you’ve got a balance. The front desk can print a copy if you want. Unless he takes a turn for the worse and needs more intensive care, you’re not getting another bill.”

I’m quiet on the drive back and feel awful about it because Rose was nice enough to drop me off at the clinic and pick me up.

She reaches over and rubs my hand. “How bad is it?”

“Hmm?”

“Your dad.”

“Oh. He’s fine—unless I triggered a heart attack before I left.” I know I shouldn’t joke, but I’m both upset at myself for questioning him when he’s in no condition, and angry at him for messing with my life.

She glances at me between watching the road. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Turns out my dad’s responsible for Silas ghosting me all those years ago. The reason I lost my best friend. The reason I ended up . . .”

“Pregnant with Max?”

“I’m not so ignorant to blame my father for my mistake. But could you blame me for thinking things could have been different?”

She shrugs. “I don’t. Things would have absolutely been different for you. But not necessarily in that dreamy way you’re imagining.”

“What do you mean?”

“Who’s to say Silas wouldn’t have hurt you back then? Who’s to say you two wouldn’t have dated and suffered a terrible break-up?”

I glance to the side.

“It’s what I’ve always told Willow after every bad break-up. It wasn’t meant to be. This is your time. Dallas was her future all along—when they were both ready.”

Something in my chest pulls itself together. But the crack’s still there. I smile appreciatively at her. “You’re somethin’ else, Rose. Thank you.”

She shrugs, pleased with herself. “Or you could just keep running into him chest first until he notices you,” she giggles. “Worked for me.”

24

I step outside to take Harvey’s call—which should be any minute. Morning’s barely hanging on and the air is cool, shifting into that familiar mid-fall chill. I don’t typically take the time to notice the weather shifts when I’m home in Denver. Here, I’ve got nothing but time to notice things like that.

Everything—including my recovery—just moves at its own pace.

One I have no control over.

The gravel crunches under my boots as I walk along the fence line, toward the stables, the barns—basically anywhere they keep the horses and I’m likely to catch a glimpse of her.

Though I’ve been thinking of making the smaller barn my temporary workout station given the cold weather coming and . . . well, we already know the resistance bands work well in the space.

Might be hard to focus though.

I’m starting to think I crossed a line earlier this week in that barn. But there’s no mistaking the way Storm watched me with those bands. The way she implied no one could get her off the way a cowgirl needs to be.