Chapter 36
sarah
It’s been a week since the fire, and I’m still at Cade’s.
It’s confusing as hell to be here.
“Am I just a freaking weak doormat?” I ask Joy as we have a drink at Blackwood Prime.
“Duke once called Elena a whore,” Joy remarks.
Elena raises her beer. “He sure did.”
“And?”
“And I forgave him…it took a minute, but I love the asshole so….” Elena gives out an elaborate sigh, but she’s smiling softly as she looks at her wedding ring that rests on a gold chain against her T-shirt.
“Mav said I was masculine and unattractive,” Aria chimes in brightly. “And he called me a lot of other…unflattering things.”
I can’t believe it. They’re so in love with their men, and both Duke and Mav literally kiss the ground they walk on.
“But then he saved my ranch—and me—more than once. Proved over and over that I could trust him and… voilà!” She wiggles her ring finger, showing off the insanely large rock on it.
I narrow my eyes and frown. “So…what y’all are sayin’ is that men are shit and we gotta forgive them?”
Bailey, the bartender, leans over the bar, her palms resting on the counter. “Men are shit…but if they know it and admit it and do better…then you can forgive them.” She waves a hand at Aria’s hand. “It helps if they give you a gazillion-carat monstrosity.”
Joy rolls her eyes. “And what do you know about men in relationships?”
“Just ‘cause I’m a lesbian don’t mean I don’t understand humans or…diamonds,” Bailey replies smugly.
We all laugh.
Joy takes a sip of her Manhattan. “Do you love Cade?”
“It’s not that simple,” I protest.
“Hell no!” Elena agrees. “Love is the easy part. It’s trust that’s hard.”
“I had the worst family”—a forlorn look enters Aria’s eyes—“and they’re all gone.
Mav and Joy are my family now. Believing that they won’t turn on me when everyone, even my father did, my sister did…
took some doing. And Mav did everything he could do to show me that he’ll be there rain or shine—and still keeps showin’ me. ”
I know some of Aria’s story—but until she spoke now, I didn’t realize how similar her experiences are to mine.
My father betrayed me. Cade, whom I all but grew up with, did as well.
So did Landon. I am low on trust. This is why I don’t have friends.
No relationships. Until Joy barreled her way into my life, I don’t think I ever allowed anyone in.
“I love Cade,” I say softly. “I’ve only loved him. I don’t think I can love anyone as much as I love him. But he let me down—hurt me in a way that I’m still healing from.”
“Let him show you if he’s a man who can be your partner,” Elena advises. “If he succeeds, you’ll be with a man you love, who loves you, and wants to make you happy. If not…you’ll keep doing what you’re doing.”
“Which is?”
Elena winks at me. “Being a badass vet.”
As I drive to Blue Rock, I think about my conversation with the women who have become my friends. It’s incredible to have such support, and I’m grateful for it.
I park the truck in front of the house. Cade’s out with Evie, looking at a new Angus he’s thinking of buying once the insurance claim for Ranger comes through. Evie tagged along.
We’re like a family, I think—and the thought unsettles me with its sweetness. They’re gone for the evening, so I made plans with friends. It feels frighteningly domestic.
I climb out of the truck. Instantly, unease hits me hard. The night air tastes metallic, sharp as iron.
Bandit paces the porch, hackles bristling, low growls rumbling in his chest. My pulse kicks. He sees me and bolts off the steps, barking, circling me like he’s herding me to safety.
Something’s wrong. I can feel it in my bones, like the pressure before a storm.
The floodlights are off, I notice. Lately, we’ve been turning them on every night. Cade’s been double-checking locks since the fire.
But someone’s out here. I know it.
I grab the flashlight from my truck.
“Come on, Bandit, let’s turn the lights on.”
He falls in step beside me, tail stiff, ears sharp. He looks like Snoopy on a hunt—if Snoopy had fangs and murder in his eyes.
The beam sweeps across the yard: metal bins, the old tractor, water troughs, nothing out of place. Until—
The barn. The door’s cracked.
My heartbeat throbs at the base of my throat. I push inside.
The smell hits first—sweet, syrupy, chemical.
Antifreeze?
My stomach lurches.
My light lands on a feed sack, slit open, powder spilled across the floor like sugar.
I see someone bent over a bag, hand clutching something—
“Gilbert?”
He whirls, eyes wide. In his grip, a small flask glints. For a heartbeat, we just stare. My brain takes a second to catch up with what my eyes already know.
“Doctor…Kirk,” he stammers, guilt twisting his face.
“What the hell are you doing?” My voice is like a whip because I know what the motherfucker is doing.
“I—ah—just came to check—”
“You killed Ranger,” I accuse.
“It’s not like that!” His hand jerks. The flask hits the ground with a clatter, liquid splashing dark across the dirt.
Bandit explodes into barking and lunges.
“Bandit, no!” I cry.
Gilbert swings a boot, catching Bandit in the ribs. The dog yelps but snaps back, teeth bared. Rage rips through me.
“Stop it!” My scream tears my throat.
I lunge for the container, desperate to keep it away from the feed, keep Bandit away from the antifreeze—
But Gilbert shoves me. Hard.
My skull cracks against the corner of a metal trough. White light bursts across my vision. The world tilts, spins. My knees give out, and the flashlight clatters out of reach.
Bandit lunges again, fury in every snarl. Gilbert curses, kicks, then bolts. I hear boots pound against dirt, fading into the night.
Silence drops, except for Bandit’s frantic whining. He presses against me, trembling, licking my hands, my face.
“I’m alright, sweet boy,” I murmur, though the words scrape weakly. My fingers grope my temple and come away sticky. Blood.
The torn bag, with feed spilling wide, and the reek of sweet and chemical odors, soaked deep into the grain.
Gilbert. The man I trusted. The man Bodie trusted.
Fuck!
My hand shakes as I fumble for my phone and call Cade first and then the police.
Evie is at Tillie’s again.
What if she’d been alone at home with Tillie with the ranch hands at the bunkhouse? The thought scares me. This can’t keep going on. We need to end this…whatever this is.
The sheriff shakes his head the entire time I speak with him.
Cade hasn’t moved from my side, one hand warm against my back like he’s afraid I’ll topple over. Once he was assured that I only had a few scratches and not a concussion, he gave up on trying to drag me to the clinic or get the EMTs here.
“I called Bodie. He’s just as shocked,” I tell Hugh.
“How did he hire him?”
“Came recommended from some people he knows in Aspen. He said he’ll send me their information by email and…you can talk to them and see how this happened.” I slouch against Cade. I can feel anger vibrate through him. It’s restrained, but it’s ready to spin out of control.
I remember when we were seventeen, sitting on the hood of his old Ford. He’d gotten into a fight with his father and stormed out. I remember reaching for his hand, prying his fingers open one by one, pressing my palm flat against his until he finally took a breath.
Now, years later, my head tips against him the same way, like my body remembers even if my heart doesn’t want to.
I grab his hand and pry it open until he’s holding mine.
“I’ll put an APB out for Gilbert. I doubt he’s gonna be at his place but…don’t you worry, Dr. K, we’ll hunt that son of a bitch down,” Hugh assures me.
“Are the Feds involved now?” I ask.
He shifts uneasily. “With your fire and the threat you received, yes, but not what’s goin’ on at Blue Rock. They don’t see the connection.”
Before I can blow up, Cade squeezes my hand. “Landon is the connection. Tell the Feds he came by and…it looks like Violet has been helping him silence the girls.”
Hugh arches an eyebrow. “When did this happen?”
“Sunday.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he barks.
Cade huffs out a breath. “I already got a job, Hugh. It’s running this ranch, taking care of my girls. I can’t keep runnin’ to you every time somethin’ flares up, alright?”
I put my hand on his chest. His heart is hammering, and I stroke, calming him. Another act that my body remembers, even if I’ve done everything in my power to forget.
“I’ll talk to the agent in charge.” Hugh tucks his hands in his pockets wearily. “You need more protection here, Cade.”
“We’ve decided already that someone is going to be on guard twenty-four-seven from now on,” Dodge interjects. “Dallas saw him but thought he was here for me or with me and didn’t pay it much mind.”
I know he and the hands are pissed about Gilbert.
“That’s good.” Hugh gives me an apologetic look. “I got no news about the fire, Dr. Kirk. But the Feds and the fire chief…we’re all workin’ on it.”
I tip my chin in acknowledgment. I don’t trust the cops—or the FBI or…whomever is trying to unravel this knot.
But you trust Cade, Sarah.
You’re here, aren’t you, holding his hand. Living in his house. Loving his daughter.
After Hugh leaves, the night settles heavy over Blue Rock. The yard’s quiet except for Bandit pacing, unsettled, and the low murmur of cattle down by the pens.
I nestle against Cade, too tired to keep my walls up. “We can’t keep doing this. Waiting for the next hit, the next fire, the next….”
His hand tightens. “You’re right.”
I look up at him, shadows etching his face into something fierce and unyielding. And before I can stop myself, I whisper, “So what do we do?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “We stop playin’ defense.”
“How?” I ask, perturbed.
“Instead of you goin’ to New York, ask that journalist to come here. Let the world know. We don’t play this as some clandestine shit. We do it in the open.”
The thought makes my stomach flip, fear and relief tangled up together. “And you’d really be okay with that? With her digging? With her putting your family under a microscope?”
He meets my gaze, as firm as the Elk Mountains. “I’ll help her dig. You’re my family, Dove. You and Evie.”
My breath slips out, shaky. “Okay. Let’s call her.”
We go inside together. The kitchen is warm with the faint smell of coffee. We sit at the kitchen table, and I dial. I put the call on speaker, and we sit shoulder to shoulder while it rings.
“Marnie Evans,” a brisk, professional voice answers.
“Hi, Marnie. This is Sarah Kirk,” I say, my throat dry. “And Cade Mercer.”
There’s a pause, then the rustle of papers. “Hi, Sarah. Cade.”
“So…about the trip to New York….”
I hear a long sigh. “You’ve changed your mind.” Another long pause. “Hell, Sarah, I…I wish you wouldn’t. This is important. Really important. There are so many—”
“I want to talk to you, Marnie,” I assure her, cutting her off. “I just want to do it here.”
“In Wildflower Canyon?” Her voice holds a gazillion doubts.
“Yes.”
Cade’s hand brushes mine. “Marnie, I’m Cade Mercer. We haven’t met. Currently, things have escalated, and it appears that everyone is already aware of your investigation. Our sheriff has informed us that the FBI is investigating my bro…Landon Mercer.”
We hear a distinct scoff. “The FBI has done investigations before and buried them, Mr. Mercer, so I don’t for one instant believe they’re sincere, but they will be once my story is out.”
“Well, then, let’s get your story written pronto,” Cade remarks. “We’ll be here. Come anytime. We have a spare room if you need to spend the night, or I can book you at the Wildflower Inn.”
We hear typing on Marnie’s end. “I’ll stay in Aspen. I’ll text you what time I can be there. Speaking of which—where is ‘there’, exactly?”
“My place. Blue Rock Ranch,” Cade tells her.
Marnie types away some more. “Found it.” She rattles out the address, and I confirm she’s got it right.
“Sarah, thank you for your courage. And, Mr. Mercer, thank you for your hospitality.”
“Call me, Cade, Marnie, after all, you’re going to be exposing my brother, we should be on a first-name basis.”
Marnie chuckles and ends the call.
Cade makes coffee and slides a mug in front of me. His rough fingers linger on the edge of mine.
“You don’t even know it, Dove,” he murmurs, “but you just trusted me with the biggest step yet.”
“Did I?” I ask, picking up the coffee cup, feeling its warmth seep into my hands.
“Yes. You’ll talk to her here, in our home. That matters—for us, for the way we heal.”
I don’t correct his ‘our home’ statement—because it’d be petty when, truthfully, I do feel like this is home.
He’s right. Healing isn’t just mine to claim. Speaking my truth might mend something in Cade as well.