Chapter 13 #2
I force myself to look at what I’m doing, but my awareness is entirely focused on her. On the way the setting sun glints off the stray hairs at her temple, on the slight furrow in her brow as she concentrates.
She’s so close I can feel the warmth radiating from her skin.
“Where are your friends?” I ask, the words coming out rougher than I intended. A stupid, awkward attempt to fill the suffocating silence.
She doesn’t look up, just keeps gathering syringes into a small plastic tray. “Clara was exhausted. Had to go home and take a nap. The last few days have been… a lot.”
Her voice is neutral, but I hear the exhaustion underneath it.
“And the Beta?” I press, hating myself a little for asking, but needing to know. “Where’s he?”
Her hands still for just a fraction of a second, a pause so small I would have missed it if I wasn’t watching her so intently.
She finally looks up, her green-gold eyes meeting mine. There’s no emotion there, just a flat, unreadable calm. “Cole’s back in New York.”
I nod, a sharp, jerky motion. A strange, unwelcome feeling unfurls in my chest. Relief. It’s sharp and immediate, and I crush it down. “Right. Of course.”
She looks away, back to the mess on the ground. “How are the cattle? Any change since this morning?”
“Just talked to Morales,” I say, grateful for the shift to a topic I can handle. “Preliminary results are inconclusive. He’s sent more samples to the state lab.”
“I’ve been talking to him all day,” she says, her voice softening as she falls into professional mode. “He mentioned your feed store run. Good thinking on the electrolytes.”
“Yeah, well, that really seems to be helping.”
We finish gathering the last of the supplies, and I follow her as she carries the box toward the clinic’s back door. The office is visible through the glass partition, and my heart sinks.
Most of the bookshelves are empty, and there are several sealed cardboard boxes stacked against one wall. It looks like she’s packing up.
“Should we be worried?” I ask. “About the herd.”
She sets the box down just inside the doorway and turns to face me, leaning against the frame. She wipes a hand across her cheek, smearing a streak of dust there.
“Morales is good, but the state lab takes time. I can call in a favor with my boss back in New York. His lab is private; they can probably get us answers in forty-eight hours, maybe less.”
My eyes widen. “Sedona… that would be amazing. Really.”
She gives a small, tired shrug. “It’s the least I can do. I’ll need to take more samples, though. From a few different animals. Will that be okay?”
“Of course,” I say immediately. “Whatever you need. Just tell us when.”
She looks down at her boots, scuffing one against the threshold. “I don’t want to overstep. I know you guys have Morales…”
“Hey,” I say, and it comes out too soft. “No. It’s not overstepping. We need all the help we can get.”
The silence stretches between us again, thick with everything we’re not saying. I feel the urge to fix it, to bridge this chasm that’s opened up between us.
“Look,” I start, clearing my throat, “I’m… I’m sorry about Billy’s temper. He’s… he’s going through a lot.” It’s a weak excuse, and I know it.
She just nods.
“Let us make you dinner,” I blurt out, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “Tonight. For old times’ sake.” I rush to add, “We can talk about the sample collection. Figure out a plan.”
Her eyes widen slightly, and I see a flash of panic in them. “I don’t know, Seth…”
“It’ll just be us. And Tex. Billy’s… keeping his distance,” I say, hating the words as they come out. “Please. It’d be good to talk without a crisis hanging over our heads.”
She hesitates, her teeth worrying her lower lip, just like she did in the barn all those years ago.
“Can I… can I bring Clara?”
“Of course,” I say, maybe too quickly. “Yeah, of course. The more the merrier.”
She lets out a breath, and some of the tension leaves her shoulders. “Okay.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. “I hate how weird it is between us now.”
A small, sad smile touches her lips. “I’m sure it’s me, not you.”
I cup the back of my neck, the muscles there tight with stress. “No. I’m pretty sure I had a part to play in it.”
Our eyes lock, and I see it again, that same complicated, dangerous flicker I saw in the barn. She looks away, toward the darkening street, and I know she’s remembering, too.
I force my voice to sound businesslike again, a shield against the emotion. “How about seven? Does that work?”
She nods. “Seven works.” She gives me a genuine smile this time, and it does something to my insides. “Thanks. I miss a good home-cooked meal.”
I smile back, feeling a little of the weight lift. “You deserve it. I was at the feed store, heard all the ranches had you running all day. You’ve earned a nice meal and a break.”
She nods again, her gaze dropping to her hands. “Hey,” she says, her voice casual, but I can hear the undercurrent of tension. “Is Lila going to be there?”
And there it is. The one thing we have never, ever talked about. The name hangs in the air between us, sharp and loaded.
My throat goes dry. I tug at the collar of my shirt--it suddenly feels too tight. “Me and Lila are not a thing,” I say, the words coming out fast and firm. “We haven’t been for a long time.”
“I thought…” she starts, but trails off.
“We were just having fun,” I say, the explanation sounding flimsy even to me. “It wasn’t… serious. She works at The Dusty Boot now. I’m pretty sure she’s in love with the bartender there.”
I’m rambling, but I need her to believe me. I need her to know that that day, that moment, meant nothing to me in the way she thinks it did.
She just nods, absorbing the information. “Oh. Okay.”
I can feel the sweat beading on my forehead. I want to ask her. I want to ask her what she was thinking that day, why she bit her lip, why her scent…
I need to know. I take a breath, my heart pounding.
“Can I ask you something?” I start, my voice cracking slightly. “It might be inappropriate, I just… I just want to know.”
She looks up at me, her eyes wary, but she nods. “Sure.”
I open my mouth, but the words won’t come. The cowardice I’ve lived with for years rushes back in, choking me.
I can’t ask her that. I can’t open that wound.
So I chicken out. I ask something else. Something stupid.
“Do you still drink your coffee black?” I blurt out. “Or did the city make you fancy?”
She stares at me for a second, confused. Then, a real laugh escapes her lips, bright and surprising. It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve heard in years.
“Still black,” she says, shaking her head, a grin spreading across her face. “Some things never change.”
I let out a breath. “Right. Good.” I back away toward my truck, feeling like an idiot. “Okay. Well. Seven, then. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
“See you then, Seth.” She smiles.
I get in my truck and drive away, my heart hammering a frantic, hopeful beat against my ribs.