5. Avery
Chapter five
Avery
Sleep does not come easily after Cole tells me the truth.
I spend half the night staring into the dark, replaying the weight in his voice and the way his hand felt in mine.
The world can be cruel in ways that leave no bruises anyone can see.
A few changed invoices, a few people willing to believe the easiest version of a man, and suddenly his name, home, and future are ripped out from under him.
By dawn, I give up. I pull on jeans and an old Stone Ridge sweatshirt, then head downstairs for coffee, emails, and a distraction before my thoughts chew me alive.
I expect a quiet kitchen, but instead, Declan and Rick stand near the island with travel mugs, paperwork, and the grim focus of men driving too far for something that matters.
Declan looks up first. “You’re awake early.”
“I could say the same.”
“Florida trip,” Rick says, lifting his mug. “Sunrise waits for no man.”
“Apparently neither do horses, dogs, or my brother’s need to overcomplicate ranch business.”
Declan gives me a tired half-smile. “The horses are worth looking at. If they’re what I think they are, I’ll arrange transport back to Stone Ridge.”
Rick taps the papers beside him. “And a training center is closing. The K9 prospects are being held until transport is ready.”
“That part sounds organized,” I say.
Rick’s smile turns dangerous. “Then I’m hitting a few kill shelters.”
Of course he is. Declan sighs like he has accepted his fate.
“He plans to pull every dog he can before their time runs out.”
“So, we’re expecting what?” I ask. “Three dogs?”
Rick snorts. “Cute.”
Declan reaches for his keys. “Knowing Rick, vans will roll up the driveway in six days, with horse trailers a few hours behind them.”
“That sounds less like a business trip and more like a rescue invasion.”
“Stone Ridge specializes in those,” Rick says.
Declan’s expression softens when he looks toward the hallway, where Tessa sleeps. “Keep an eye on Tessa while I’m gone.”
My teasing fades. “Of course.”
“And if she goes into labor…”
“I call you before I call the hospital.”
“Avery.”
I hold up both hands. “Fine. Hospital, then you. But only because I’m a professional.”
Rick hides a laugh behind his coffee, and Declan points at him. “Don’t encourage her.”
I squeeze my brother’s arm. “Go. Buy the horses. Rescue the dogs. I’ve got Tessa.”
His jaw tightens with worry he pretends is practicality. “Promise?”
“I promise.”
For a second, he is not the man who runs racehorses and makes big decisions before breakfast. He is my brother, leaving his pregnant wife behind and trusting me to guard the softest part of his world.
“I’ll call when we stop,” he says.
“You better.”
They head for the door, Rick already talking about van rentals, transport timing, and how many dogs fit in a convoy before someone calls it madness.
I pour coffee after they leave, standing in the quiet kitchen with first light slipping over the counters. Dogs. Horses. Tessa’s baby. Cole’s truth. Preston’s investigation. Stone Ridge does not ease anyone gently into change. It opens the gate and lets the herd run.
By the time the house wakes, I have answered three emails, refilled my coffee twice, and convinced myself I can function on almost no sleep. Another lie, but at least it comes with caffeine.
Tessa appears in the kitchen wearing leggings, one of Declan’s shirts, and the unimpressed look of a woman assigned a babysitter.
“I heard him,” she says.
I glance up from my laptop. “Who?”
“My husband, making me your responsibility like I’m a mare about to foal in the south pasture.”
I bite my lip.
“Avery.”
“I did not say anything.”
“You thought it loudly.”
I close the laptop. “He’s worried.”
“He’s always worried.”
“He loves you.”
“That’s his excuse for everything.”
“It’s a good excuse.”
Her expression softens despite herself. Tessa is brave, sharp, stubborn, and one of the strongest women I know, but even strong women get tired of being treated like glass.
I pour her herbal tea instead of coffee because Declan is not the only hoverer. “I promise not to fuss unless you give me a reason.”
“You already made me tea.”
“That is hospitality.”
“That is medical surveillance in a mug.”
“Drink your surveillance.”
She laughs and takes the cup. “You are all impossible.”
“Stone Ridge specialty.”
We settle at the kitchen table while morning spreads across the windows. Tessa asks about my house calls, and I give her the short version: two follow-ups, one blood pressure check, and a stop at the cabins to see who has ignored instructions since yesterday.
She studies me over the rim of her mug. “You didn’t sleep.”
I reach for my coffee. “I slept.”
“Avery.”
“Some.”
“Cole?”
The cup pauses halfway to my mouth. Tessa does not smile or tease. She only waits, which is somehow worse.
“He told me some of what happened,” I say.
Her face softens. “Oh.”
“I’m not going to repeat it.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to.”
“I know.” I look down at my coffee. “It makes me angry. How fast people can decide one version of someone is the only version that matters.”
Tessa is quiet for a moment. “That’s why this place matters.”
My throat tightens.
Outside, a truck starts near the barns. Somewhere in the yard, Scout barks like he is offended by the sunrise.
“I think he trusted me,” I say.
“That scares you?”
“A little.”
“Because you like him.”
I look up. “You went right for the throat.”
“I’m pregnant, not subtle.”
A laugh slips out of me, tired and real. “I don’t know what I feel yet.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I know I want people to stop hurting him.”
“That’s not nothing.”
No, it is not. I stare toward the porch, where last night still feels too close. His hand in mine. His voice rough with truth. His quiet request for me not to let go.
“I think he’s been alone a long time,” I say.
Tessa’s gaze follows mine. “Then maybe don’t make him be alone with it now.”
I have patients to see, emails to answer, a pregnant sister-in-law to keep an eye on, and a ranch that never slows down long enough for anyone to think too hard. But Cole is out there somewhere, carrying a story that has been used against him for too long.
And for the first time since I came home, I know exactly where I want to start my day.