Chapter 30 Sedona
CHAPTER THIRTY
Sedona
Light filters through the thin curtains, dragging me out of a sleep that felt more like a coma. My eyelids are heavy, glued together by exhaustion and the remnants of a fever that tried to burn me alive from the inside out.
I blink. The room comes into focus. The bunkhouse. The quarantine.
The events of the last night crash over me in a wave of heat that has nothing to do with illness.
I remember the pain. The ache. I remember Billy’s hands. His mouth.
Oh god.
I squeeze my eyes shut again, mortification flooding my veins. I showed him everything. I begged him.
I let him… god, I let him do things I haven’t let anyone do in five years. I was a mess of sweat and slick and need, and he saw it all.
“Hey.”
My eyes snap open.
Billy’s sitting in the chair by the small table. He’s leaning forward, elbows on his knees. He looks wrung out. His eyes are rimmed with red, his jaw dark with stubble. He’s wearing the same clothes from yesterday.
He never left.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
I push myself up onto my elbows. My muscles feel like jelly, weak and trembling, but the searing pain in my lower belly is gone.
The fire has banked, leaving only warm coals behind.
“Better,” I croak. My throat is dry.
“Maggie came by about four hours ago,” he says. He stands up and walks to the mini-fridge. “She brought a few more pills. A different dosage. Dr. Thames thinks the interaction was a fluke.”
He pulls out a bottle of Gatorade and a wrapped sandwich.
“Clara dropped these off, too. She wanted to come in, but I told her you needed the sleep.”
He hands me the Gatorade. I unscrew the cap with shaking hands and drink half of it in one go. The cold liquid is a blessing.
He holds out two white pills. “These are the new ones. Should keep the heat at bay while the antivirals flush out.”
I take the pills. I swallow them dry, then chase them with more Gatorade.
He watches me. His gaze is intense, but it’s different now. Last night, it was predatory, hungry. Today, it’s guarded. Careful.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For staying.”
He shrugs. “I wasn’t going to leave you like that.”
I sit up fully, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. The room spins for a second, then rights itself.
I’m wearing my T-shirt and a fresh pair of shorts. He must have helped me change again.
“How are you?” I ask. I study his face. The tension in his brow.
He smiles. It’s a small, tired curve of his lips. “I’m fine.”
He steps closer. He leans down and presses a kiss to the tip of my nose. It’s an affectionate gesture, innocent. But it burns through me.
“Get some rest,” he murmurs. “I need to go check on the cattle.”
I nod. “Can you… can you call Clara? I want to talk to her.”
“Sure.” He walks to the door. His hand pauses on the knob. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Sedona.”
“Me too.”
He leaves, and I sit there for a long moment, staring at the closed door.
I feel exposed. Raw. I gave him a piece of myself last night that I had locked away. I told him things. About the marriage. About my fear.
And now he’s gone. Back to the ranch. Back to being the foreman.
I feel a hollow ache in my chest. I want him to stay. I want to curl up in his lap and let him hold me until the world makes sense.
But that’s not who we are. We are exes. We are pack. We are a disaster waiting to happen.
Ten minutes later, the door opens again.
Clara breezes in, looking frantic. She shuts the door behind her and rushes to the bed.
“Sedona!” She grabs my face. “Oh, my god. Are you okay? Billy said you were sleeping, but he looked like he’d been through a war. What happened? Did the meds work? How bad was it?”
“Bad enough that I couldn’t think. Bad enough that I was in agony.”
I look down at my hands. I pick at the label on the Gatorade bottle.
“He stayed,” I say quietly. “He took care of me. He… he helped me through it.”
“Helped you how?” Clara asks, then her eyes widen further. “Oh. Oh.”
“It wasn’t sex,” I say quickly. “Not exactly. He just… helped. With his hands. And his mouth.”
Clara lets out a breath. She fans herself. “Holy shit, Sedona. That is… that is intense.”
“I know.” I drop my head back. “I feel like I’m falling, Clara. I’ve been back for a couple of days, and it’s like no time has passed. I look at him, and I forget why I left. I forget the five years of silence.”
“You love him,” she says simply.
“I do. But I’m scared. I’m terrified that I’m falling in too deep, too fast. He said some things last night. About understanding why I left. But he didn’t say he forgave me. He didn’t say we were together. He just… helped. And then he went back to work.”
“He’s a man,” Clara says. “They compartmentalize. He probably needs to process it.”
“I don’t know if I can handle the back and forth,” I whisper. “One minute he’s cold, the next he’s… intimate. It’s making me dizzy.”
A loud noise interrupts us.
It’s a roar. A dull, angry rumble coming from outside.
Clara stands up. “What’s that?”
I frown. “Thunder?”
“No. It sounds like… voices.”
We both look toward the window.
“Stay here,” Clara says. She goes to the window and peels back the curtain.
Her face goes pale.
“Sedona. Get dressed.”
“Why? What is it?”
“It’s a circus,” she breathes. “There are news vans. Cameras. And the mayor is here.”
My stomach drops. “The mayor?”
“And reporters. They’re swarming the house.”
I scramble out of bed. My legs are shaky, but adrenaline spikes through me, giving me strength.
I grab a pair of jeans from my bag. I pull them on, then grab a flannel shirt. I don’t bother with makeup. I don’t bother brushing my hair. I just need to see what’s happening.
“Let’s go.”
We slip out the door of the bunkhouse. The morning air is cool, but the atmosphere is charged. I see the white tents of the CDC shaking in the wind. I see the orange tape fluttering.
And I see the crowd.
At the entrance to the ranch, a gaggle of news vans is parked. Reporters in bright jackets stand with microphones, shouting over each other. Cameras flash like strobe lights.
In the middle of the yard, Mayor Ruth Holloway is standing with her hands raised, trying to calm them down. She’s wearing a suit that costs more than my car, her silver hair pinned back tight.
“Please!” she shouts. “This is a quarantine zone! You cannot be here! This is private property!”
The reporters ignore her. They push forward.
“The public has a right to know!” one man yells. “Is it true the cattle are dying?”
“Is it a bio-weapon?” another screams.
I walk closer, staying behind the barn. Clara grips my arm.
“We shouldn’t be out here,” she whispers.
“I need to see.”
I scan the crowd. I see Seth standing by the porch, his arms crossed, looking furious. Jasper is hovering behind him, looking like he wants to bolt.
Tex is near the gate, trying to wrestle a camera away from a reporter.
And then I see him.
He’s standing by the truck, a duffel bag thrown over his shoulder. He’s wearing a denim jacket and a black cowboy hat pulled low.
My breath hitches.
It’s Joey.
The missing brother. The bull rider.
He looks harder than I remember. His jaw is sharper. His shoulders are broader. He looks like he’s been fighting the world.
And he looks angry.
He pushes past a reporter, ignoring the flashing lights. He walks straight toward Seth.
“When did you get back?” Seth asks, his voice tight.
“Just now,” Joey snaps. “Drove through the back gate. What the hell is going on? Why are there cameras on our lawn?”
“It’s the quarantine,” Seth says. “It’s a mess.”
Joey looks around. His eyes sweep over the CDC tents, the orange tape, the chaos.
“Where’s Billy?” Joey asks.
“He’s around,” Seth says. “He’s handling things.”
Then Joey’s gaze shifts.
And it lands on me.
He freezes.
His face goes slack for a second, shock widening his eyes. Then the shock evaporates, replaced by a dark, burning rage.
He starts walking.
He doesn’t run. He stalks, a predator zeroing in on prey.
He ignores the mayor. He ignores the reporters. He walks right up to the fence line that separates the main yard from the bunkhouse path.
I step out from behind the barn. I can’t hide. Not from him.
He stops ten feet away from me.
“Well,” he says, and his voice is loud. Cutting. “Look who it is.”
“Joey,” I say. “You’re back.”
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he demands.
I flinch. “I’m the vet. I’m helping with the cattle.”
“You’re the vet?” He laughs. It’s a harsh, ugly sound. “Bullshit. You’re the plague. You’re the reason this is happening.”
“That’s not true,” I say, my voice shaking. “I’m just trying to help.”
“Help?” He steps closer, invading my space. “You destroy everything you touch, Sedona. You ruined this family once. Now you come back and bring a fucking parasite with you?”
“Stop.” Clara steps forward, putting herself between us. “Don’t talk to her like that.”
Joey sneers at her. “Stay out of this. This is family business. Who the fuck are you, anyway?”
Just then, Billy rounds the corner of the house. He sees the crowd. He sees Joey.
He jogs over.
“Joey,” Billy says. “You made it.”
Joey turns on his brother. The hostility radiates off him in waves.
“Yeah, I made it. I drove all night because I saw the news. I saw the reporters talking about an outbreak on the Carson ranch. And I come home to find her.”
He points a finger at me. It’s an accusation.
“Why is she here, Billy?” Joey demands. “Why is Sedona Archer on our land?”
Billy straightens his spine. “She’s here to work. She’s exposed. She’s in quarantine with us.”
“Quarantine,” Joey spits. “Is that what we’re calling it? Because it looks like you just let the fox back into the henhouse.”
He steps closer to Billy. His chest puffs out.
“Are you stupid?” Joey asks. His voice drops, but it carries across the yard. The reporters have gone quiet, sensing the drama. The cameras turn toward the brothers. “Are you stupid enough to have fallen into bed with her again?”
Billy’s jaw tightens. “Watch your mouth.”