Chapter 44
sarah
Wildflower Canyon’s never been this popular.
I mean, it was a little wild when Marnie’s story first broke, but now, with Landon dead and Violet in jail, reporters are clogging Main Street like tourists during leaf season in Aspen.
We have cameras flashing, voices shouting questions.
They want Cade, they want me, they want our story. I can barely step out of the clinic without a microphone being shoved in my face.
Cade finally had enough. “Pack a bag, Dove,” he told me last night, jaw set. “We’re takin’ a break. You, me, and Evie.”
I didn’t argue.
Which is why now we are miles down the highway, the Elk Mountains shrinking in the rearview, windows rolled down, sun-warmed sage drifting in.
Evie’s in the backseat, Bandit sprawled across her lap, tongue lolling as she sings off-key to whatever country-pop anthem is blasting.
Chocolate smudges her cheek, and her fingers are sticky from gas-station candy Cade let her pick.
“Daddy said only one thing,” she reminds me solemnly, holding up a crinkled bag of gummy worms. “So I got the biggest one they had.”
I laugh, and Cade shoots me a mock-stern look. “She’s learnin’ loopholes too early.”
I reach over and brush his hand where it rests on the gearshift. “She’s learnin’ from the best.”
His thumb curls over mine, and Evie continues to chatter about how good her candy is.
Kids are resilient. Thank God!
Only four weeks have passed since that night Violet tried to shoot us, and Evie’s fine—even asking when we’ll go home.
We are keeping a diligent eye on her for any residual trauma, which we both know can take time to manifest and heal. But Evie seems to have put the past where it belongs. Like her, we’re ready to go home as we’re still at Mav’s while the living room is being fixed.
That’s when Cade and I had our first fight as a new couple.
He said he couldn’t afford the renovations and wanted cheaper options. I put my foot down and said we could afford it, and we’d do it right. I’d pay for it.
“I’m not taking your money, Dove.”
“Fine, then I won’t live in your house, Cade.”
“I told you, this is our house. Our home.”
“Then my money is ours, too.”
He gave in.
I lie back on the seat and let a rare peace wash over me.
Coming back to Wildflower Canyon changed my life.
It helped me find distance from my monsters.
And even though I would have preferred it if Landon had been tried and punished, I’m also relieved.
The idea of testifying didn’t appeal in the least, but I would’ve done it for the women who couldn’t speak and for those who did.
I glance at Cade. The sun slants golden across his shoulders as he drives, sleeves rolled up, forearm tan and strong on the wheel. I wonder when anger gave way to this fragile, terrifying hope. He smiles at me. I smile back.
I told him I loved him, and it was cathartic and honest. The fear of dying made me realize what matters to me most, and it’s the two people in this truck.
“You lookin’ forward to some quiet, Dove?” he asks.
We’re headed for Durango for the weekend. We’re looking forward to river rafting, enjoying the narrow-gauge railroad while we stay in a cabin we rented.
“Hey, Dr. K,” Evie pipes up from the back. “Do you know the words?”
“To what, Evie Girl?”
“Wheels on the bus,” she shrieks.
“You were saying something about it being quiet,” I tease Cade as our girl belts the chorus, mangling the pitch.
I join in.
Cade groans like he’s being tortured, but two seconds later, he’s singing with us.
The moment we pull up to our home for the next few days, Evie bolts from the truck, Bandit on her heels, her squeal echoing through the trees.
The cabin sits tucked in pines just outside Durango.
We have redwood siding, warm in the late sun surrounding it, and a deck that overlooks the Animas River as it snakes silver through the valley.
“Daddy, it’s a treehouse!” she hollers, already climbing the porch steps.
“Sure is, Evie Girl.” Cade hauls bags from the bed of the truck.
Inside, the place smells like cedar. Clean and fresh. There’s a loft with bunk beds that makes Evie scream with delight, and a master downstairs with windows framing the river.
That night, we sit around a fire pit out on the porch.
Cade grills steaks, and I make a salad.
For dessert, Evie roasts marshmallows that immediately slide off her stick into the flames. Bandit hovers at our feet, tail thumping, catching scraps.
It’s domestic and normal in the best way.
“This is amazing,” I say, as I watch Cade stand in the firelight, his shirt untucked, hair mussed, grin easy for the first time in what feels like forever.
“Damn right,” he drawls.
Evie crawls into my lap, sticky-fingered and drowsy. “Dr. K, tomorrow, can we see the train?”
“Which one?” I muse.
“The old-timey one,” Cade says. “Durango to Silverton. Narrow-gauge. Scenic as all get out.”
“Like a princess train,” Evie mumbles sleepily.
“Exactly like that.” I kiss the crown of her head.
Later, after we tuck Evie into her bunk with Bandit curled beside her, I step onto the deck.
The river hushes below; the Milky Way burns bright above.
Cade joins me with two mugs of hot chocolate. He sets one in front of me, then leans against the railing.
“You okay, Dove?” he asks softly.
I curl my fingers around the mug. “I think so,” I admit. “It’s just…a little overwhelming. Feels like it’s taken forever to get here, but at the same time, everything’s moving so fast. I don’t even know how to feel about it.”
His hand finds mine, squeezes gently. “You don’t have to feel it all at once. Just enjoy the now, and know I’ll be here tomorrow.”
We stand like that, hands tangled, listening to the river carry the heavy stuff away as we drink our hot chocolate and live in the moment.