Chapter 29 #4
"Mitch found Razor," Cassidy said. "He and Kayden are riding back. Should be here by sundown." She headed for the stairs of the large wraparound verandah. She glanced back at me. "I'll have Bella fix you something to eat."
"Oh, you don't have to go to any trouble."
"No trouble." She disappeared inside.
I hobbled alongside Declan, my body suddenly screaming with every ache I'd been ignoring.
He glanced down at me, his brow furrowing. "You don't look fine to me."
"Gee, thanks," I muttered, trying to make a joke.
"I mean, you look like you've been through hell." He swept a long lock of hair away from his face, and I noticed a pale scar running across his left cheek. "Let's get you inside and cleaned up."
The next few hours passed in a blur. Cassidy and Declan looked after me, bringing food and asking careful questions about my injuries.
As I devoured sandwiches and a divine lemon cupcake that Bella brought from the kitchen, they pressed for details.
I didn't answer most of their questions, but I had to explain why I was wearing Mitch's socks.
I told them about the rabbit, the dingo attack, and how Mitch had saved me yet again.
After that, they gave me privacy in the bathroom to clean up.
By the time I emerged from the bathroom, scrubbed clean and smelling much better, I was beginning to feel human again. In the large bedroom, Cassidy had put clothes and a first-aid kit on the bed, along with a note telling me to help myself.
I perched on the edge of the bed and examined my feet.
The blisters that had burst were angry red and crusted with dirt despite my shower.
The ones still intact bulged like bubble wrap.
I cleaned around the broken ones with antiseptic wipes, gritting my teeth against the sting, then dabbed on antibiotic cream.
The intact blisters I left alone, they were the only thing protecting the raw skin underneath.
With my feet propped on a pillow, I slathered moisturizer over my sunburned face and body. Every inch of exposed skin felt tight and hot to the touch.
The pair of worn jeans Cassidy had left fit surprisingly well, as did the soft, blue cotton shirt, and fresh underwear that still had a store tag.
I wandered through the old homestead, taking in the high ceilings with their exposed beams. Wide hallways lined with black-and-white photographs of stern-faced men on horseback and women in long dresses standing before this very house.
Worn floorboards creaked under my feet, and everything about the place spoke of generations of Bransons who had lived here.
I found Cassidy and Declan sitting out on the verandah, sipping beers and watching the sun bleed across the horizon.
"Here, take mine," Declan said, standing and offering me his chair.
I sat beside Cassidy. "Thank you for the clothes. I'll get them back to you as soon as?—"
Cassidy waved me off. "Keep them. They look better on you anyway." She handed me an open bottle of beer, and I accepted.
"Here come the cowboys now," Declan said, nodding toward a distant hill.
I squinted and saw the plume of dust before I saw the riders.
Cassidy grinned. "Seems like Mitch is in a hurry to get back to you."
"He's in a hurry to get home," I corrected her.
"Sure, he is," she murmured into her beer.
When they arrived, the reunion exploded into chaos, and all three siblings fired questions at Mitch before he’d even dismounted.
Cassidy demanded to know what was going on.
Kayden demanded to know who I was, and Declan asked if Mitch had seen Frank.
Mitch deflected each question with clipped, evasive answers, and everyone talked over each other.
I stood off to the side, feeling like a stranger watching someone else's life unfold.
This was Mitch's world. His family. His land. His home.
Out in the scrub, it had been just the two of us with no ties to anything but each other. Simple. Raw. Real.
Here, surrounded by his siblings on the steps of this sprawling homestead that had stood for generations, the distance opened between us like a chasm.
I'd been so caught up in falling for him that I hadn't stopped to consider what loving him would actually mean. He wasn't just a man. He was a Branson, bound to this land and these people by blood, history, and obligations I couldn't begin to understand.
I was just a trespasser passing through.
Mitch's gaze found mine across the verandah. “You good?”
I nodded, and for one suspended moment, everything else fell away, leaving just him and me and all the things we hadn't said.
"Mitch, get your ass inside. We need to treat your wounds." Cassidy grabbed his arm.
"But—"
"We’ll pick this up again over dinner." She steered him toward the door.
He looked at me over his shoulder once before disappearing inside.
I wrapped my arms around myself and stared at the jagged cuts across his back as he walked away, wondering if what we'd had out in the wilderness could survive here in the real world.
Wondering, too, if there was even a place for me in his world.