Avalon
Trying not to look like a complete idiot as I hurried up the hill toward my aunt’s car, I quickened my pace. My heart thudded with a mix of dread and disbelief. What the hell was she doing here? Why hadn’t she warned me she was coming?
“So, you’re alive,” Brie said with a sly smile the moment I reached her. “You know, your parents are coming up with some crazy explanations as to where you are and why they haven’t heard from you—”
“What are you doing here, Brie?” I cut in, breathless. She arched a perfectly shaped brow and gave me a slow once-over, tapping her sunglasses against her chin like she was inspecting a crime scene.
“I think the better question is what are you still doing here,” she countered. Then she reached out, lifted a handful of my hair, and gasped. “Your hair is sun-bleached. Oh no.”
I groaned. “Brie—”
She released my hair with a dramatic shake of her head and fluffed her own. “You’ve spooked the family, Avalon. They’re worried about you. Even the twins have said something about your disappearance—”
“I did not disappear!” I raked both hands through my hair, trying not to lose my cool—especially not with Clarke still sitting on her horse watching us. “I told you I was coming here.”
Brie’s tongue slid across her lip before she tucked it into the corner of her mouth—her signature tell that she was about to say something smart.
“Right, and you decided it was my job to let the family know? When did I become the middleman? I haven’t played monkey in the middle in dec—ages.”
“Brie, please.” I pressed my palms into my eyes. This had to be a nightmare. Any second now, I’d wake up back in the barn with Clarke, everything simple again.
Brie lifted her hands in surrender, laughing before pulling me into one of her signature bear hugs. She always smelled expensive — like eucalyptus and jasmine and something impossibly warm. I melted into her arms despite myself.
Had it really been that long since I’d had one of her hugs?
“I’m glad you’re here,” I said when we finally pulled apart. “But where is my doctor?”
Her eyes widened. She turned toward the driveway just as a cloud of dust approached. A white sedan rolled to a stop beside her red Audi.
“It’s funny,” Brie said as the door opened and a tall, dark-haired woman stepped out. “Corrin and I actually went to college together. We ran into each other at the airport and realized we were headed in the same direction, so I moved her up to first class and we reconnected the whole flight.”
I groaned. “Jonas didn’t even book her first class? That’s embarrassing. I’m so sorry—”
Dr. Corrin Mwangi waved me off with a brilliant smile. “Don’t be. I insisted on main cabin. I was just de-boarding my flight from Pennsylvania when he called.”
She was everything I’d read about—poised, sharp, warm, and intimidatingly accomplished. A woman who carried her brilliance like a second skin.
“I’m happy to work on this case,” she said, “but I’ll need more information. Jonas didn’t have much detail. Is there someone here who can fill me in?”
“Yeah,” I nodded toward the house. “Follow me.” Then I pointed at Brie. “Stay. No wandering.”
“Oh, please,” she said, hooking her thumbs into her belt loops. “I’m sure there are a few handsome cowboys around here who’d be happy to get me into—oops, I mean keep me out of trouble.”
“Brie!”
“Okay, Mom!”
I rolled my eyes and led Corrin inside. “I’m sorry about her,” I murmured.
Corrin chuckled. “Aubrielle has been a troublemaker as long as I’ve known her. You should’ve seen her in college.” Then her expression softened. “Avalon, can you tell me anything about what I’m about to see when I walk through this door?”
My hand hovered over Melody’s door handle.
I swallowed hard. I knew what was behind this door.
I’d spent days training myself not to flinch at the sight of her getting weaker.
The first time I realized she was actively dying, I couldn’t stop staring—not out of fear, but out of awe.
How could someone so close to death still look so alive?
Her sunken cheeks and dark circles couldn’t dim the spark in her blue eyes, or the tiny mischievous curl of her lips when she smiled.
When she had the strength to smile.
“Melody,” I whispered. “And I need you to fix her.”
Corrin’s face softened. “Oh, Avalon.”
I pushed open the door. Mr. and Mrs. King sat at Melody’s bedside with Dr. Ferguson. All three turned toward us, confusion flickering across their faces.
“Avalon,” Mr. King said, rising quickly. “Who is this?”
I braced myself for anger—for someone to tell me I’d crossed a line. But Melody smiled faintly and beckoned me closer.
“Don’t be mad at her, Daddy,” she said, reaching for my hand. Her skin was still cold, but there was more color in her cheeks than earlier. “She was just trying to help.”
I turned to her parents. “Dr. Corrin is one of the best oncologists in the country—”
Mrs. King broke. Her face fell into her hands as she sobbed, shoulders shaking. Mr. King wrapped an arm around her, his expression dark and unreadable.
“Could you give us a minute with the doctor?” he asked—not unkindly, but firmly.
I squeezed Melody’s hand once more, then backed out of the room, ears buzzing.
The door had barely clicked shut when someone grabbed my arm and yanked me toward the stairs.
“What the—”
“Why did you do that?” Clarke hissed, pinning me to the wall. Her blue eyes were blazing. “You have this habit of stepping out of your place and involving yourself in things that aren’t your concern.”
Tears stung my eyes. I hadn’t wanted this—hadn’t wanted her to be angry with me.
“I just wanted to help,” I whispered, turning my face away. But she caught my chin between her fingers and forced me to meet her gaze.
“That’s a nasty habit, Avalon.” Her tone was sharp, cutting—but beneath it was something raw, something trembling.
“If you really wanted to help,” she continued, “you’d spend time with her. Make her laugh. Enjoy her final days.”
“Is that what you’re doing?” I shot back before I could stop myself.
Her fingers were still on my face, her eyes still burning into mine.
“Spending time with her? Doing her favorite things? Is winning this barrel race more important than enjoying her final days?” My voice dropped to a whisper. “She could go any moment—”
“You don’t think I know that?” Clarke’s voice cracked with fury and grief. “You don’t think I’ve spent the past year feeling helpless?”
She released my face. I gasped, leaning back against the cool wall.
“I can’t be here all the time,” she said, running her hands through her hair.
Her curls fell loose around her shoulders, wild and exhausted.
“I can’t see her like that, knowing I can’t fix it.
Fix her. Sometimes I just need a distraction from feeling like another weight on everyone.
I can’t ease her pain or my mother’s, but sometimes, for a moment, I can distract myself from mine. ”
Her chest rose and fell rapidly. The tension in her body was almost vibrating — grief, rage, fear, all tangled together with nowhere to go.
“Use me,” I breathed out from my place on the wall. Reaching for her arm, I took her hand and placed it over my chest. “I know what you need, Clarke.” My voice was just above a whisper, sacred within the small space between us. “Let me quiet the pain in your chest for just a little while.”