Chapter 38
Jessie
My saddle creaks under me and the familiar scent of leather and horses floats around me.
It’s my day off, and Kacey invited me out to the ranch for a ride.
She’s been mother-henning me a lot lately, between inviting me to the ranch, feeding me, and even stopping at the hospital to drop off coffee.
The coffee drops are the biggest indicator she’s really worried about me. She hates hospitals.
She hasn’t said a word, but she knows I’m struggling.
I’ve never had trouble getting over a boy like this before.
It’s been two months, and I feel like I’ve made zero progress.
I still hate going home to an empty house, sleeping in a cold bed alone, and knowing the one person I want to talk to about my day is out of my reach now. And it’s my fault.
I did the right thing—my father will always be a threat—but I still hate that I hurt Trey. Hurt myself. And I hate my father for making me do it. Even if I can find a way to stop paying him like Carson wants, he’ll always be there, lurking around my hometown.
I still haven’t come up with a plan, and Carson hasn’t pushed me. He’s checked in and offered support, but he never goes further than that and right now, I appreciate it. I need time to work out what my next steps will be, and how I’ll handle Daryl while keeping everyone I love safe.
The Rocky Mountains stretch up to the sky as the first fall breeze blows through the air. My horse, Bear, navigates these mountains so well I barely have to guide him along the trail. Kacey and her horse Hooch follow close behind us with a picnic lunch packed in her saddlebags.
“I love this time of year. The days are the perfect mix of fall in the morning and evenings, but summer in the afternoons,” Kacey says as she tilts her head skyward, soaking in the sun.
“Honestly, I love it out here anytime of the year.”
Her head lolls forward. “You hate winter and literally hide indoors.”
“I don’t hate winter; I hate snow. I like to look out of the window, though. It’s pretty.”
This makes her laugh, and we continue our climb. She tells me how Knox is doing, carefully avoiding mentioning Trey at all—even going as far to stop herself when she almost says his name.
“It’s okay, Kacey. You can say his name. I know he still exists.”
“I know. I just feel bad. I had him move in with you, and now you’re both sad.”
You’re both sad.
That’s not her fault, it’s mine. I let him get too close, and it hurt us both. I hate knowing he’s hurting, too. He doesn’t deserve it. “We’ll be fine. It’s not your fault.”
We’re halfway around the mountain when my phone rings. Shocked I still have service, I answer when I see it’s the hospital.
“Jessie?”
“Dr. Marshall?” I question, at the sound of his voice. Why is he calling me? If someone was sick, and they needed a nurse to fill in, the administrative nurse would call me, not him.
“Can you come to the hospital? It’s your grandmother.” I pull back on the reins, stopping Bear. “The ambulance called ahead—they think she’s had a heart attack.”
My heart pounds in my chest as his words sink in.
Gran.
Hospital.
Heart attack.
“W–what? Is she okay?” My voice trembles. I grip the reins so tightly, the leather digs into my palms.
Kacey rides up next to me, her brow furrowing in concern.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know anything else, but I wanted to call you right away.”
The tone of his voice sets me on edge. I’ve heard this tone—it’s the same tone he uses to deliver bad news, life-changing news, to families. And never the good kind.
“Thank you. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I hang up and turn to Kacey. “An ambulance is taking Gran to the hospital. They think she had a heart attack.”
Kacey sucks in a breath. “Oh my gosh. Okay, let’s head back. I’ll radio Carson. He can meet us with the truck.”
I nod and we take off.
Kacey uses the ranch radio to get ahold of Carson. We ride back down the trail as quickly as we safely can. Carson has the passenger door open and waiting when we come to a stop beside the truck.
“I’ll take her. Chet’s waiting at the barn. He’ll take the horses so you can get your dad and head into to town,” he informs Kacey, knowing she doesn’t handle hospitals well. She doesn’t argue.
I jump in the truck, and Carson gets us to town in record time. My brain thinks through the last time I saw her. It was just yesterday. She seemed fine—her normal self—sewing and drinking tea. Maybe it’s bad acid reflux. Sometimes in older people, that can be mistaken for heart attacks.
Carson throws the truck in park, and I jump out and run for the doors. I rush past the parked ambulance and into the ER with Carson on my heels. I spin in a circle, looking for Gran. A nurse hustles past me, nearly knocking into me.
“Time of death, 11:24 a.m.,” Dr. Marshall’s voice carries from across the room.
My heart stops as I whip around and see her. Still on the ambulance gurney, lifeless, with the doctor and nurses surrounding her bed, looking defeated.
No.
NO.
I run to her side. “Do something! Help her!” I yell at my co-workers. A nurse sniffles. Dr. Marshall clears his throat.
“I’m sorry, Jessie. She’s gone.”
“No, you’re wrong! Help me!” I cry, gripping her wrist for a pulse. I reach for the defibrillator, but Dr. Marshall steps in front of me.
“She’s gone, Jessie. I’m so sorry,” he says again, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.
I turn back to her, ready to perform CPR, when callused hands and strong arms grip me.
Carson.
“Jessie,” he says, his voice rough and sadness. Tears well and spill over as he pulls me to his chest. I try to push away from him—refusing to believe she’s gone—but he holds me tight. I sob, crying out for her. He catches me when my legs fail, all the fight leaving my body.
This isn’t happening.
This isn’t happening.
This can’t be happening.
I saw her yesterday; she was fine. She’s all I have. She has to be okay.
This can’t be happening.
I don’t know how much time passes when I register Carson has carried me to a chair, and Kacey now sits next to me, rubbing my back as she cries alongside me.
Cody whispers comforting words I notice more than hear. Carson’s denim shirt is still gripped in my fists. The taste of salt lingers on my tongue. My tears slow as I release him and sit up.
“Jessie,” Kacey cries and throws her arms around me, but I’m numb. I can’t feel her comfort or cry more tears.
Gran is gone.
My Gran, my best friend, biggest cheerleader, and the only real family I have—had—left is gone.
And I didn’t get to say goodbye.