Chapter 24
My life returns to what it was before.
Routine. Predictable. Quiet.
I wake up at dawn in my little apartment above Connie’s garage, my body already queasy from the moment my eyes open.
Morning sickness has become my alarm clock.
It’s merciless, consistent, and entirely inescapable.
I throw up. I rinse my mouth. I braid my hair with trembling fingers and head out into the rising sun like nothing’s wrong.
At the ranch, the world is earthy and raw and alive. There’s no room for self-pity here. Cattle don’t care if your heart is broken. Fences don’t fix themselves. I mend, haul, shovel, sweat. The physical work is brutal but necessary. It keeps me from thinking too much. Most days.
But the nights?
The nights are a different story.
When the sun disappears and the ache settles into my bones, when I crawl into that narrow bed with no one but myself and my swollen, shifting thoughts… I fall apart.
I cry myself to sleep more nights than I can count.
Not sobbing, just quiet, exhausted weeping. The kind that leaves your pillow damp and your throat raw. The kind that steals your breath in the dark when no one’s watching.
And every time my hands drift to my stomach, I whisper the same thing. I’m sorry.
One day, when the sickness is worse than usual, I finally break down and tell my mom.
She clutches her chest with both hands when I say the word pregnant. Her eyes shine, her voice thick with joy and disbelief.
“Oh, sweetheart. Twins?” she says, smiling through the emotion. “That’s the most beautiful surprise.”
But I don’t smile back. I crumple. Right there at the kitchen table, I break. Sobbing so hard I can’t breathe, my body shaking with the grief I’ve tried so hard to swallow.
“I miss him so much, Mom,” I gasp. “I don’t want to, but I do.”
She pulls me into her arms without hesitation, rocking me like I’m still small. Like the pain isn’t bigger than both of us.
“You did the right thing, hun,” she whispers into my hair. “You set boundaries. You gave him a chance to step up. And if he can’t accept that then you and these babies are better off without him.”
I want to believe her. I do. But nothing feels better right now. Just empty.
One month goes by.
I keep working.
I keep throwing up.
I keep surviving.
But the missing doesn’t get easier. It just settles in deeper, like something I’ll carry the rest of my life right alongside them.
“Babies are doing great, Olive,” my OB/GYN says, her voice warm and reassuring as she turns from the ultrasound monitor. “Everything is right on track.”
I nod, blinking at the screen. Two strong little heartbeats. Two tiny profiles. They’re real. They’re mine.
I rub my slightly rounded stomach, feeling the stretch of new life beneath my palm.
“That’s good,” I whisper, a faint smile tugging at my lips.
The doctor studies me for a moment, her tone gentling. “Mood still down?”
I nod, unable to speak around the lump in my throat. My eyes sting with tears, and before I can stop them, they spill over.
She hands me a tissue, not pressing, just there.
“It’s normal,” she says softly. “Hormones, grief, stress. Your body’s doing something incredible, but it’s okay if your heart hasn’t caught up yet.”
I look away, wiping my cheeks. “I thought I’d feel better, knowing they’re okay. But I just…” I swallow. “I just wish he was here. Or at least that he cared enough to ask.”
She nods, not with pity but with understanding.
“Sometimes the people we want beside us the most aren’t capable of being what we need. And that says more about them than it does about you.”
I nod again, clutching the tissue.
But deep down, I still wonder what it says about me that I’m doing this alone. That I didn’t fight harder.
I leave the office with another appointment card and two new black-and-white photos of the twins. They’re clearer now. Tiny spines, curled fists, perfect little profiles frozen in time. I tuck them carefully into the scrapbook I’ve started for them. Every appointment gets a new page.
Next time, I’ll find out the gender. I already know, though. I press a hand to my belly as I walk to the car, my mouth tugging into a smile. Girls. I can feel it. There’s a pull in me that’s intuitive, maternal and certain. I’ve never been surer of anything.
Just as I’m climbing into the driver’s seat, my phone rings.
Phern’s name flashes across the screen, and a familiar rush of dread and hope fills my chest. Every time I see someone from Broken Heart Creek calling, it feels like a coin toss.
Part of me aches for news about Liam. The other part is terrified to hear it.
I answer, my voice tentative. “Hello?”
“Hey, friend,” Phern says, her voice bright, but there’s a tension under it. “Where are you?”
I blink. “At this moment? Just leaving a doctor’s appointment. Where are you?”
“The airport. In Wichita.”
I freeze. “What?”
“You heard me,” she says. “Can you come get me?”
A hundred questions crowd my brain, but I just sigh. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Ten minutes later, we’re standing outside the airport, and the second she sees me, Phern bursts into tears. So do I. We collide into a hug, holding each other like lost sisters finally finding a way home.
“You’re really here,” I whisper.
“Yeah. I’m really here.”
When we finally pull apart, she presses her palms to my shoulders and studies me.
“Olive…” she starts, her brows pinching. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but are you pregnant? Because your stomach feels a lot like Charlie’s did.”
My heart lurches. I open my mouth. Close it. And then ask the only question that matters.
“Liam didn’t tell you?”
Her expression shifts. Hardens. Her eyes narrow like a storm gathering behind them.
“That freaking idiot,” Phern hisses again, fists clenched in her lap. “You told him, and he still let you go!”
“It was terrible,” I murmur, the words catching in my throat as fresh tears blur the road ahead. “He asked for proof, Phern.”
Her jaw drops like she physically can’t believe it. “He what?”
I nod slowly, shame prickling hot behind my eyes. “Yeah.”
Phern makes a sound that’s half-growl, half-curse and it vibrates through me like armor sliding into place.
“Oh, I’m going to kill him,” she mutters. “I swear to God, Olive, I’ll wring his neck. With a smile.”
And just like that, despite the sting, I laugh. It’s short, breathy, tear-soaked and trembling. But it’s real. Because for the first time in what feels like forever, I don’t feel completely alone in this.
“Come on,” I say, shifting into gear. “My mom’s going to be dying to see the newest photos. I’ll catch you up on everything on the drive.”
And I do.
I tell her everything. From the second I got on the plane to Broken Heart Creek, full of fragile hope and nerves, to the way Carl was sitting in Liam’s living room like a ticking bomb waiting to go off.
I tell her about the fight. How my voice shook, how Liam looked at me like I was someone he didn’t recognize. How I left. How I miss him still.
By the time I’m done, my hands are shaking on the wheel.
Phern watches me for a moment, then says quietly, “He’s not doing any better.”
I glance at her, heart thudding.
“I’m not sure if you want to hear this or not,” she continues, “but he’s looking rough. He’s been at Will’s bar almost every night.”
I blink. “Will opened a bar?”
Her expression softens, her mouth tugging into a fond smile. “He did. Called it Flowers End.”
My chest tightens. I remember that night we were all in the living room and Phern suggested the name for the bar.
“It opened right after Sam and Charlie’s wedding,” Phern adds. “It’s doing really well too, especially since Buck and Sherry finally split and Sherry turned Knot and Spur into a boutique.”
“Seriously?” I blink, trying to picture it. “She got rid of the bar side of the business?”
“Yep. She said she was tired of Buck’s drama and wanted to do something for herself. So now it’s flannel skirts and fringe jackets and a candle bar in the corner where you can make your own scents.”
I laugh again, shaking my head. “Only in Broken Heart Creek.”
Phern leans back, watching me for a moment. “You know, it’s still your town, too.”
I swallow. “Doesn’t feel like it.”
“It could,” Phern says softly. “If you ever wanted it to again. There are a ton of ranches out there that would hire you. And you'd be close to family.”
“I have family here,” I point out, glancing at her with a raised brow.
“Dang,” she mutters with a grin. “Was hoping you’d forget that.” She nudges my arm playfully. “Just think about it.”
I offer a noncommittal smile, but we both know I won’t.
Not really. It would be too painful. Too much.
Being in the same town as Liam and pretending like he didn’t still live under my skin.
Seeing him in the grocery store. At Will’s bar.
Passing him on the road, knowing I couldn’t reach for him. Not anymore.
And what would I do when he started dating again?
The thought makes my stomach twist.
I ask before I can stop myself. “Is he… is he seeing anyone?”
Phern shakes her head. “No. He made a big show at Sam’s wedding, acting like he was into Charlie’s friend, Tish, but we all saw right through it. Poor girl didn’t even know he was using her as a shield.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“It’s only a matter of time before he moves on,” I say softly, more to myself than her.
“Maybe,” Phern says. “But you haven’t seen him recently. That man is tore up, Olive. He walks around like his boots are full of lead. He’s barely speaking to anyone. He’s heartbroken even if he’s too stubborn to do anything about it.”
The rest of the drive is quiet after that.
When we pull up to my parents’ house, Mom’s already waving at us from the porch. I lead Phern inside, and the second the front door shuts, my mom grins.
“Nice to meet you, Phern,” she says with a warm smile. “Now show me my grandbabies.”