Chapter 33
cade
Sarah stands in my kitchen, looking out of the windows into the dark. I know she wants to bolt.
Her braid slips over her shoulder, catching the light, and all I want to do is reach for her.
She was fine during dinner, but now it’s just us, and she’s shut down a little.
“Do you want a tour of the house?”
I want her to see the whole place, to understand there are no remnants of the past, of Landon. He hasn’t lived here—or even stayed here—in years.
“You lived here with Jeanine,” she whispers.
I step behind her, rest my chin on her shoulder, breathe her in. “I redid the house after she passed away.”
“The whole house?” I straighten and turn her to face me, my hands on her shoulders. “Yes. I had a good year and…I needed to…erase the years of…marriage.”
She studies me, wary, like she’s trying to spot the lie. But there isn’t one. I’ve got nothing left but the truth.
I draw in a slow breath. “I married her because she got pregnant. I didn’t want to have a kid at twenty-six, but…
Evie is the one good thing that came out of that marriage made in hell.
We weren’t right from the start. I stayed out of stubbornness, or maybe shame.
She hated this ranch, hated me half the time. She hated Evie.”
“How could she hate Evie?” Sarah protests. “Evie is wonderful.”
I cup her cheek. “Yeah. Jeanine had problems. Many of them. She drank quite a bit, but she stopped while she was pregnant. Thank God.”
“You didn’t love her?”
I huff out a sharp laugh. “No. I tried. I mean, she was pregnant with my kid. And my father was on my ass about it.”
“Your father was an ass,” she mutters.
“Yeah, he was. A very big ass. Now, when I look back at how he”—I trace her lower lip with a finger and drop my voice—“handled that whole thing with Landon and you…I realize that he was also a very bad man.”
“Are Jeanine’s parents in Evie’s life?”
“No. They moved to Florida after Jeanine died. Blamed me for everything. I’m glad. I didn’t want them around Evie.”
She dips her chin uncertainly. “Okay…show me your house.”
I take her hand and lead her through the open floor plan.
“See these?” I point to where the old narrow windows used to choke the light in the living room. “I ripped out the walls and put in floor-to-ceiling glass. Wanted the view to be part of the house, not something shut out.”
“You also removed that ugly chair your father liked so much,” she says as she walks up to the windows and looks out at the Elk Mountains now shrouded in darkness.
“Dad died before Jeanine had the baby.”
She turns and tilts her head. “How did he pass?”
“Heart attack. He was riding his horse.”
“I’m sorry, Cade.” She puts a comforting hand on my arm.
“Me too. Because if he were alive now, I’d have….” I run a hand through my hair. “I think he knew, Dove. He knew what Landon did, which is why he made it go away.”
She exhales. “Show me more of the house.”
We go down the hall. “I rebuilt all the bedrooms. Knocked out the tiny windows, put in bigger ones so there’s light and air. Evie’s room gets the morning sun—she says it makes her feel like she’s waking up in a fairy tale.”
I nudge her toward a cracked door where my little girl’s nightlight glows. “That’s her kingdom in there. Dolls and stuffed animals everywhere.”
Sarah peeks in and smiles faintly, her eyes softening. Her lips part, and for a moment, I see the girl she used to be—the one who loved me without hesitation.
“I wish Evie were ours,” she says.
The ache that rips through me nearly drops me. I step closer, close enough to see her lashes tremble.
“She is,” I whisper. “If you want her, she is.”
Sarah’s eyes shine, tears threatening, and she shakes her head hard. “I’m not ready for that. Not even close.”
I nod, though it damn near splits me in half. “Then I’ll wait. However long it takes.”
She runs her hand along the doorframe like she’s testing the truth in the wood.
“Whose room is that?” she asks, lifting her chin toward the door across from Evie’s.
“Tillie’s. She stays over plenty, so I made it hers. Has her quilt, her books, a king-size bed, so she doesn’t feel like a guest.”
I take her to the end of the hall and push open the master door. The room opens wide and bright, anchored by a bed big enough for a family, with clean, simple linens. The mountain view is framed like a painting.
Sarah stands at the threshold, frozen, breath shallow. “It’s…it’s….”
I wanted to build a room where no ghosts lived, and yet I’d made something for her without even realizing it.
“Yeah. I know. It’s what we always wanted.”
We used to dream of building a cabin with a large bedroom featuring tall windows, waking up to the mountains.
When she finally steps inside, she traces her fingers over the dresser, the fresh wood, the space I rebuilt to erase all that came before.
She walks around the room and then the bathroom—simple, modern, a shower cabin, a bathtub, a glass wall. Private and still making you feel like you’re out in nature.
“Scaring the poor wildlife while you bathe?” she jokes.
I feel immense relief that she’s no longer stiff as a board. There’s an ease to her. A comfort that she can touch my things. I like it.
“Somethin’ like that.”
I open the door past the bathroom. “My office. Didn’t want ranch books stacked in the kitchen anymore.”
There are two desks—mine and a smaller one made in the same design for Evie. She colors here while I work on weekends.
She doesn’t speak, just looks—takes it all in. I see her throat working, like she’s swallowing down a tide of memories and fears.
“I wanted you to see,” I murmur. “There’s no trace of him here.”
Her eyes glisten as she turns to me. “It doesn’t feel the same anymore.”
“And…is that a good thing?”
She nods. “Yes, Cade. That’s a very good thing.”
I come closer, stand behind her, lean in, and brush my lips against her ear.
“Dove, what does it feel like now?”
“Like…you. Evie. Your family.”
I want to say our family, but I know it’s too soon. She’s not going to accept that the past ten years didn’t happen, that I didn’t abandon her, that I didn’t protect her from my own brother.
“I think of you as family.”
She tilts her head, resting it on my shoulder as she watches the darkness beyond the window in my office.
“And how will you feel when I call that journalist and tell her everything?”
“I hope it will give you peace. I hope and wish and pray that it will give you justice.”
For a long moment, the office is silent except for the hum of my computer. Then she pulls out her phone, hands shaking but only a little.
“I’ll call her now,” she says.
“Okay.” I move to stand beside her, close enough that my shoulder brushes hers.
When the journalist answers, Sarah’s voice wavers, but she pushes through, setting up a meeting in New York. I keep my hand on the small of her back the whole time, silently letting her know she’s not alone.
When she hangs up, she exhales like she’s been holding her breath for a decade.
“Done.”
I give her a half-smile. “Then we’ll go together. Evie, too. We’ll make a trip of it. I’ve got friends in Brooklyn who’ve been itchin’ to see her. Folks who’ll spoil her rotten and give her more candy than is good for her.”
Her head snaps toward me, eyes wide. “You’d bring her? To New York? With me?”
“Why not?” I grin faintly. “She deserves a little adventure. And you deserve not to face this alone.”
Sarah stares at me like I’ve offered her the moon. She trembles as she turns and rests a hand on my heart. I cover it with mine. Her skin is warm, her pulse racing under my thumb; my heart beats against her palm. She doesn’t pull away.
“Cade….” Her voice is a whisper, uncertain, but not unwilling.
I lean in, slowly giving her every chance to stop me.
The air between us crackles, charged with ten years of what-ifs and never-weres. My gaze drops to her mouth, and hers flicks to mine.
Then—
We hear Bandit’s soft barking and the scrabble of his paws as he races into the office, interrupting us.
We jerk apart like guilty teenagers.
“Fuckin’ cock blocker,” I mutter.
Sarah laughs nervously, brushing at her braid.
She looks shyly at me—and she reminds me of my Dove from when we were younger, na?ve, and so in love.
My heart pounds like I just rode Rooster bareback because I feel hopeful that we can be what we were meant to be.