Chapter 4
4
C allum was plumb worn out, and it was only eight a.m.
The time after his surgery was a blur, but he thought he'd slept for a couple of hours at least. Sometime during the early morning, they'd moved him to a regular hospital room.
He'd requested only over-the-counter pain meds, and his head was pounding. His entire body felt like it was on fire. His leg was immobile in a cast that ran from his thigh to his ankle. Every movement felt like little flames scorching him from the inside out.
Heaven help him.
He had no idea how he was going to get through the next few days.
At least he was dressed in street clothes. He'd bribed one of the nightshift orderlies to drive to the nearest superstore—forty-five minutes each way—and buy him a couple of T-shirts and track pants that would snap closed over the massive cast.
He'd also gotten his orderly helper to find him a burner phone. It wouldn't do for forever, and he'd already run the battery down once, trying to find a short-term nanny.
So far it was a no-go. He couldn't offer live-in accommodations, not yet, and Sutter's Hollow was so small it didn't even have a hotel, much less a cache of unemployed childcare workers.
He had a lead on some help for the ranch. He'd need someone to check on the cattle and take care of basic chores until he could get out there himself.
He'd checked-in with the movers. At least one thing was going right. The moving truck with his and the boys' belongings would arrive mid-morning.
How was he supposed to unpack? He didn't know. But at least the boys would have their belongings.
One thing was going right, but everything else sucked.
He couldn't stay with Iris and her sister.
Uncle Joe passed five years ago and left it to us.
He hadn't known. He'd thought he'd purchased the ranch from Joe.
He'd wanted Joe to suffer.
He'd imagined all of it. Joe signing the papers that would deed Callum his property. Joe seeing the single wide trailer delivered and knowing he would never get his land back.
Just like Callum would never get back what Joe had taken from him.
Now, the taste of revenge he'd hoped for had soured.
He hadn't meant for Iris to be affected.
She wasn't even supposed to be here. In Sutter's Hollow. Whenever he'd thought of the small town they'd grown up in, he’d pictured her long gone. In Paris or New York City or some other fancy place. On stage, where she belonged. A prima ballerina.
Why was she here? Why had she offered to help him? Of course, that second wasn’t that hard to figure. It was just like her, or at least like the girl she'd been at seventeen.
How could he take advantage of her hospitality and compassion when he'd bought what was rightfully hers?
He didn't have an answer as the nurse appeared with his discharge papers wearing a severe frown over her bright pink scrubs.
"You realize you're putting yourself at risk of dangerous complications." Her tone made it clear what she thought of his decision.
He gritted his teeth against the pain as he sat on the edge of the bed, his leg extended in front of him.
"I get it. Both you and the surgeon explained it." But he hadn't found adequate help, and there was no way he was putting his boys at risk. He was hit with the memory of coming off a weekend rodeo, euphoric with a purse in hand and missing his boys. He’d called to let them know he was on his way. No answer. Half an hour later and still no answer. Driving down I-35, he'd been slightly worried. Three hours later, about to hit the Dallas metro, he’d been terrified.
It'd taken an amber alert and twenty-four of the most terrifying hours of his life to get his boys back.
Last night was the first time he'd been apart from them for more than an hour or two since. Even now, the need to see them was like an itch under his skin. He needed to know they were safe. And the only way to do that was to keep them with him.
The nurse had him sign several dozen sheets of paper, muttering the whole time. And then, after she wheeled a chair into the room, Iris stepped into the doorway.
"You want me to give you a minute?" the nurse asked.
"Yes." Him.
"No." Iris.
The nurse snorted and backed out of the room. "Maybe she can talk you out of this bullheaded, stupid idea." She disappeared, shaking her head.
"Looks like there's at least one person in Sutter's Hollow who doesn't remember me," he said.
He didn't get the smile he was looking for. She shook her head. "It's been a long time," she said. "Folks around here have probably forgotten just how stubborn you are."
For a fraction of a second, the friendship they'd shared in the past shimmered in the air between them. And then she looked down at her feet, breaking the connection.
He realized there was less noise than there should be.
"Where are the boys?" he asked.
"They're waiting at the nurse's station. I thought I should see if you needed help with anything."
"I'm fine." He was. He was only eyeing the wheelchair with disgust because he didn't want to seem weak. Not because he was delaying.
He couldn't tell her about the ranch.
She clasped her hands in front of her. "Actually, there's something I wanted to say. That's why I left the boys down the hall."
His chest filled with pressure. Was she going to bring up graduation night? He owed her an explanation, even after all these years. He'd ghosted hard.
He’d left for a reason, but not one he could share with her.
But he could apologize. He was opening his mouth to do so when she rushed on.
"I don't want there to be any confusion about... this. What's going on. We don't know each other. It's been so long that we're virtually strangers."
Her words hit him with an echo of the force he'd felt as the truck blindsided him.
We're virtually strangers .
Maybe it was true. He hadn't seen her in ten years.
But the time they'd spent together... He'd told her things he'd never told another soul. He'd been desperately in love with her. She'd known more about him than anyone else.
She was still talking. Her chin rose in the air as if she was defending herself. "I moved on a long time ago. I'm happy to help you with the boys. Just like I would with anyone. I just don't want you to think I'm doing this because I still... you know. Have feelings. For you."
Heat flushed his face. He knew Iris didn't have a cruel bone in her body. He hadn't come back to Sutter's Hollow hoping to rekindle anything between them. He had the boys, his own life, his plans.
So why did her words hurt so badly?
Bad enough that he wanted to strike back. "All I really need is a ride. I can take it from there. It shouldn't inconvenience you too much. I just bought some land out your way. We'll be neighbors."
Realization dawned, and color bloomed in her cheeks. "You bought the Red Cedar Ranch?"
"Yeah." He used the crutches that the nurse had brought in earlier to brace himself as he eased out of the bed. Sweat beaded on his brow as the pain intensified. He spoke between his teeth. "I was in the market for some land, and it'll be a good home for the boys. A good place to grow up."
That wasn't all of it. He could've looked in another small town. Sure. But he'd wanted to stick it to Joe. And Wade.
The nurse bustled back in, saw him in the chair, and frowned.
"I predict you'll be back in to see the surgeon in a week," she said. "You'll do yourself damage if you don't follow the doctor's orders and rest."
Sure he would. He just had to take care of his boys first.
It was raining again as Iris pulled the borrowed minivan alongside the curb outside the hospital. Raindrops pattered on the roof and windows, creating a cadence that did nothing to calm her frazzled nerves.
Callum had bought half of Uncle Joe's ranch. He was her new neighbor, though he didn't seem happy about it. He'd been quiet, almost angry, in the hospital room. Then, he'd basically ignored her as the nurse had pushed him down the hallway and he'd greeted his sons from the wheelchair.
Maybe it was the pain.
She took a deep breath and stepped out of the car, taking the keys with her. Just beyond the curb, the twins stood on opposite sides of Callum's wheelchair, each one chattering like a magpie. When Brandt hopped on one foot and got a little too close to the street, Callum grabbed the back of his T-shirt and stopped him. And couldn't hide the wince that crossed his expression.
All I really need is a ride . He'd said the words with the same stubbornness she remembered from years ago. He didn't want her help. He'd made that clear enough.
And he was her next-door neighbor.
Great.
Her smile was forced as she approached him in the wheelchair. "Levi and Brandt, let's load up." She clicked a button on the key fob, and both rear doors of the minivan slid smoothly open.
She reached out both hands. Levi took one, but Brandt ducked beneath her reach and darted ahead to climb into the minivan himself.
It made her remember Callum as an independent teen who had hated asking for help.
She didn't want those memories. Not anymore.
She helped boost Levi into the car, then spoke to Callum over her shoulder. "It might be more comfortable for you in the middle row. You can extend your leg more than if you were up front."
She rounded the vehicle just in time to grab a giggling Brandt as he tried to jump out of the open door.
"Good catch," came a low mutter from Callum.
"Get in your seat, okay?" She injected a cheerful tone into the order and gave the boy a gentle push. "Your daddy's getting in, too."
The mention of Callum had the boy scrambling back to the booster in the third row.
She used a lever to lean the second row seat on her side forward so she could help the twins buckle their seatbelts. She'd learned last night that those five-point harness buckles were almost as difficult as getting the car seats latched into the car.
Leaning over the middle seat, she was too conscious of Callum on the curb as he pushed out of the wheelchair and awkwardly backed into the bucket seat, hissing once in pain.
"You drive a minivan?" He was making small talk now? His words were high and full of air, like maybe he was trying to distract himself.
"I borrowed it from a friend." She clicked Levi's buckle into place and backed out of the car. A glance at Callum showed white lines bracketing his mouth. She tried to ignore the pang that seeing him in pain caused her.
"You good?" she asked. She didn't want to close his fingers in the door.
He only grunted in response. She took it as a yes and mashed the button that closed both rear doors.
She only had a second, maybe two, to try and brace herself before she climbed into the driver's seat.
The boys were talking over each other as she turned the key. They seemed to have suffered no ill effects from the crash yesterday, or from staying overnight with her.
Oh, to be that resilient.
She slowly eased out of the parking lot, careful of the slick roads. Callum shifted, and she heard the low groan he tried to suppress.
Her hands were trembling on the wheel, and she moved them both to the bottom of the curve, out of his line of sight from the backseat.
We'll be neighbors . How was she supposed to handle seeing him on a daily basis?
Jilly had been right to challenge her. This was more difficult than she'd thought—impossible even. No matter that she'd made a big speech to him in the hospital—a total bluff, trying to save her pride—she couldn't just turn off her feelings. Seeing Callum brought back all the hurt and uncertainty she'd felt when he'd left without a word—and a strange echo of the affection she apparently needed to get rid of. Quickly.
"Are you hungry? I can drive through somewhere or stop at Trixie's." They had a twenty-minute car ride in front of them, and she was scrambling for distraction.
"No, thanks."
She glanced in the rearview mirror before she turned into traffic. Lines around his eyes showed he hadn't slept much. She'd sat next to Jilly during long nights in the hospital. She knew what that was about.
From the third row, Levi called out, "I want nuggets!"
"You just had breakfast, squirt." She checked over her shoulder, flipped the blinker on, and took the exit to merge onto the state highway.
"What'd they have for breakfast?" Callum asked.
"Eggs and toast. And orange juice. Levi ate his and about half of Brandt's." She breathed a little easier. Talking about an inane subject, like what the twins had eaten for breakfast? She could do that. "You sure you don't want to stop? It's a long time until lunch."
"I'm fine." His tone was short, and she frowned, glancing over her shoulder. He was swiping and tapping on his phone. In just that second that she watched, consternation bloomed on his expression.
"Sutter's Hollow doesn't have grocery delivery?" His disappointment was obvious.
A smile tickled her lips, wanting to get out. What did he think this was, Dallas? "I'm afraid not."
He muttered something under his breath that she couldn't make out.
All I really need is a ride . The way he'd said it back in the hospital room left no question that he fully intended her to drop him off at his single-wide and drive away. But she'd glanced across the meadow that separated the two properties this morning and seen the gutted earth where the well was being put in. He obviously hadn't thought this through. The trailer wasn't inhabitable without water and electricity. Not to mention the fact that Callum could barely move due to his injuries.
"Jilly and I don't mind if you and the boys stay with us for a few days. We've got a stocked pantry. And I made up a bed for you in Joe's old office downstairs. Hopefully, it will be quiet enough you can get some sleep."
She heard him take a breath to speak, but before he could say anything, Brandt piped up from the back row. "No sleeping, Daddy. Sleep no fun."
"Hmm. Maybe not for you, but Daddy likes to sleep," Callum said. Then, to her, "We'll be fine once we get home. It'll be just like camping."
"I go camping!" Levi shouted.
She glanced in the rearview mirror and caught the stubborn set of Callum's jaw. He wanted her to deliver him to an empty trailer with no water and no electricity? Fine. She would.
And then maybe she'd laugh in his face when he realized he couldn't survive like that. Or maybe she'd drive off with a spray of dust in his face—leave him the way he'd left her. With no warning.
Her fantasy revenge plot scattered like chaff in a brisk wind as Brandt said, "Iris likes horses. She has a lot in her barn."
Her hands tightened on the wheel. She wasn't going to abandon Callum and these innocent boys, even if he deserved it. Even if it hurt her to help him.
The man hummed acknowledgement. From the corner of her eye, she could see he was still engrossed in his phone.
"She's a horsie doctor," Brandt went on.
She sensed more than saw Callum's head come up; awareness of him lit her up with a zing as she felt his attention laser in on her. "That true?"
"I'm not a vet," she said. "Jilly and I run a rescue operation. We rehabilitate horses that've been abandoned or neglected." She'd tried to explain rehabilitation to the twins as they'd followed her around the barn for morning chores. How did you explain abuse and ingrained fear to a three-year-old? She'd simplified as much as she could.
Callum turned his head to look out the window. "What happened with your dancing? Why'd you stop?"
The old ache she mostly tried to ignore flared hot at his questions. She had to clear her throat to speak. "I spent three years in New York. I was injured and came back home to recover."
That was more than he deserved to know. But it didn't stop him from asking more. "And you never went back?"
"Some injuries, you don't heal from," she said sharply. Her back had never been the same after the fluke subway accident had stolen her career. Ballet was physically demanding, requiring her to be on her feet for fourteen-hour days. Lifts and jumps that she'd once floated through became torturous.
And after Georgio had betrayed her, she'd lost the heart for it.
Callum continued his questions like a dog savaging a bone. "So why'd you sell off the land, then, if you're staying in Sutter's Hollow?"
"Why'd you buy it?" she countered, emotion making her words sharp. "The land agent said it was a cash deal. Where'd you get that kind of money?"
His voice was sharp too. "Surprised?"
She shook her head. "Maybe I would be if I'd given half a thought to you once you walked away."
Instant silence. No, not quite. The boys were whispering with each other from the back.
She regretted the cruel words. They weren't even true. She'd thought about Callum nonstop for months after he'd disappeared. Even now, every once in a blue moon, she'd see a memory-shadow of him in a place they'd once been together.
Callum was silent, and the tension inside the vehicle grew so thick she almost choked on it.
Maybe he was right. She should just drop him off. Escape this awful awkwardness and the verbal land mines that were too many to avoid.
She wanted to cry.
But she'd shed too many tears over him already.
So she firmed her lips and kept driving. The sooner they got this over with, the better.