Chapter 25
True Inheritance
Milly
The day started like every other day without him. Quiet and lonely.
The rooster crowed even though dawn had already come. The pipes clinked and hissed when the shower warmed up. Inspector body-slammed the bedroom door right at six-fifteen because, you know, “starvation.”
But the house itself felt… hollow.
When Austin was here, the ranch hummed. Little things: the low murmur of him on a call with Reaper, the squeak of the third stair when he took them two at a time, the faint clink of a wrench as he “just checked something” on a door hinge that had survived thirty years without him.
Since he left, those sounds had gone quiet.
I padded downstairs in wool socks and one of my oversized sweaters, the same one I’d worn the morning he left.
I was still clinging to the chance his scent was still on it.
The kitchen smelled of cinnamon and coffee.
I bit back the tears as memories of us drinking coffee together flooded my thoughts.
I crossed to the window and lifted the curtain.
The south pasture glistened under the fresh snow, the horse’s breath steaming into clustered clouds near the hay ring. The goats argued over nothing in particular. Life on the ranch seemed to be moving on. All except for me.
“Okay,” I told the empty kitchen. “We’re doing this. One day at a time. Okay?”
The coffee in the pot was hot. Something Austin had done before he left. He preset the machine. My chest tightened when I saw the little note taped to the side in his handwriting: Just in case you sleep in, Doc.
I refused to move it.
I poured the coffee into his mug—the one he’d left.
I wrapped my hands around the ceramic and let the heat soak into my fingers.
The clinic schedule lay on the table, neat blocks of appointments in color-coded highlighter.
Today: two horses, one overly dramatic pug, a heeler, and a follow-up call with the state inspector about the final paperwork.
And, tonight, I swallowed a knot in my throat when I read “bonfire” at six o’clock.
Cassie had called in a favor a few days ago. When she begged me to let her host it on the property, I’d laughed and said yes, then cried in the pantry when I got off the phone.
It was just this one more thing I hadn’t figured out how to do yet: doing it without Austin.
I drank my coffee standing up by the sink. Sitting invited thinking, and I wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. I was still too raw.
Inspector slinked in, tail high, and jumped onto the table. I scratched him under the chin. “You miss him too, don’t you?”
He head-butted my hand, which I took as a yes.
I grabbed my coat, my stethoscope, and Penny’s ledger, then stepped out into the cold.
The air bit my cheeks. The sky was clearing, strips of pale blue opening between clouds. The new sign out front—Everwood Veterinary Clinic, Dr. Milly P. Thomas, DVM—still made my stomach do a swoop every time I saw it.
Inside, the clinic still smelled like fresh paint and disinfectant.
The exam tables gleamed. The heated pads Austin helped install warmed them from beneath.
It was all in the little details, his details.
The cabinet he’d rehung so it closed right.
The extra hook he’d added near the back door “because there’s always one more leash.
” The emergency kit he’d stocked like we were preparing for the apocalypse instead of mild Montana mishaps. It all reminded me of Austin.
I stood in the waiting room for a second, breathing it in.
“This is ours,” I whispered. “You and me, Aunt P. We did it.”
And then I added, quieter, “And you too, Austin. Wherever you are.”
The day moved on.
The old mare with the arthritic hocks tolerated her injections with noble resignation.
The dramatic pug screamed like we were murdering him while we cleaned his ears.
The heeler didn’t even flinch when he got his vaccinations, and the last-minute call-in, a twelve-year-old hound, let me cut her nails without a peep but held her head like royalty.
Cassie dropped by with hot chocolate “just because” and left muddy bootprints all over the front mat.
“You ready for tonight?” she asked, blowing on her steaming cup.
“No,” I admitted, then adjusted: “Yes,” I said, organizing a stack of client files that didn’t need organizing. “I’m looking forward to seeing everyone. And burning the last of that cursed barn wood.”
Cassie grinned. “I hear you. Do you want help setting up?”
“Nope,” I said. “Duke’s dropping off a load of additional scrap at four. Sue said she’d bring soup.”
“Of course she did,” Cassie said fondly. “I’ve got rolls and pie.”
She hesitated, then nudged the toe of her boot against mine. “Hey. You doing okay?”
The automatic answer, “I’m fine,” came first. Then the real answer. “I miss him,” I said. The words came out small. “Which is not exactly news to anyone, I know. But… I do. A lot. It’s like he painted the ranch before he left, then took the blue.”
Cassie’s face softened. “He looked wrecked when he left, Mils. That’s not a man who wanted to go.”
“I know,” I said. “I understood why he felt like he had to. Loose ends. A life back in Denver. People relying on him. It’s just… knowing all of that and living in the space he left are two very different things.”
“Why didn’t you ask him to stay?”
“I did. I almost begged. The day he left, I asked him several times.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Did you tell him before that, or just when he left?”
I thought for a moment. “When he told me he bought a plane ticket, I told him he could stay. But then he chose to go.” My lip quivered as I held back tears.
“Hearing it out loud, I could see his point, like he did. I thought it was implied he would stay after the year was up, but now I see how I screwed up.” Tears streaked my cheeks even as I tried to hold them back.
“I screwed up, not just a little. I screwed up big.”
To Cassie’s credit, she didn’t flinch. “Have you heard from him?” she asked.
I fiddled with my pen. “He texted Reaper. Reaper told Levi, who told Mason, who told me that he landed okay. That’s… something.”
Cassie raised an eyebrow. “So he hasn’t called you?”
She bumped my shoulder with hers. “Look. He gave you this.” She gestured to the ranch in general. “That’s not nothing. If he’s supposed to come back, he will. If he doesn’t…” She exhaled. “You’re still standing. You still have this clinic, this ranch, this town. You are not alone.”
“Great,” I muttered. “I’ve become a Hallmark special.”
Cassie grinned. “One with goats.” She pulled me into a hug. “I’ll see you tonight.”
After she left, I cleaned the exam rooms by muscle memory.
Wiped down surfaces, restocked drawers, locked the meds cabinet.
My mind kept wandering to a man in a city apartment, staring at a ceiling that didn’t creak when I snuck downstairs in the middle of the night for a glass of water or warm milk.
“Stop it,” I told myself. “He needed to go. You needed to let him.”
I closed the clinic, locked the door, and walked back toward the house. The sun had started its slow descent. Breath billowed from the horses’ nostrils in clouds. Somewhere a crow cawed, and that was it. I was alone again until six o’clock, counting the minutes down.
The bonfire would be in the east pasture, where Austin and I had cleared brush and placed large logs to sit on. I took a deep breath.
One day at a time, Milly. One day at a time.
I climbed the porch steps, hand on the rail.
Inspector stood by the door, staring at it, tail flicking like a metronome.
“Really?” I asked him. “You have a cat door, you know.” But I knew he liked being fussed over.
He flicked an ear but didn’t move.
Fine. I let him in, then got ready for the bonfire. Heavy sweater. Wool socks. Hand warmers and gloves. Beanie, and Austin’s dog tags around my neck. I’d meant to give them back before he left, but in the drama, I’d forgotten. I promised myself I’d mail them to him as soon as I got his address.
I hated this. I hated missing him. I wanted him back, and I wanted to be in his arms again.
It was nearing five o’clock, and I was just keeping myself busy now.
I’d already turned on the lights. Duke’s truck had come and gone an hour ago, and I had nothing to do but listen to the old grandfather clock tick the seconds by until I could put on my “I’m fine” smile and mingle like we used to when Austin was here.
Sue had just texted to say she was running late when a knock came at the door.
Three soft raps.
I took a deep breath and tried the smile on. It felt stiff and forced, and that was exactly how I felt. I ran my hands through my hair and readied myself to play hostess.
“Here we go,” I told Inspector, who looked at the door with rapt attention.
“It’s probably Duke,” I told him. “Or Sarah. Or…”
The knock came again.
Inspector meowed and swatted at the door.
“Okay,” I whispered. “Okay. Don’t be pushy.”
“Hey, I was just…” My words halted mid-thought.
It was him.
Austin stood on my porch with a duffel slung over one shoulder and a potted plant in the other. Snow dusted his hair and the shoulders of his coat. His eyes were tired, but when they met mine, my heart melted.
He came back.
“Hey,” he said.
The word puffed in the cold.
For a second, my brain stuttered while my heart skipped beats.
He’s here.
He left.
He came back.
There’s snow on his pants.
He’s holding a plant. Why is he holding a plant?
Say something, Milly.
“What… are you doing here?” I managed. It came out breathy and weak.
He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “I forgot something.”
I blinked. “You drove all the way from Denver because you forgot something?”
He nodded.
The plant’s leaves trembled slightly with the cold.
“Oh,” I said brilliantly.
“I, uh…” He shifted his weight, boots creaking on the planks. “I wasn’t sure how this would go. Or if you’d slam the door.”
Inspector wove around his ankles, purring.
“Traitor,” I muttered to the cat.
Austin’s mouth tugged up.