Chapter 42
CHAPTER
FORTY-TWO
EMMETT
The silence on the drive toward Bramble from the memory care facility settles over the Jeep differently than on the way in. It’s the kind of quiet that follows something too big to process all at once. Or at least, that’s how it feels for me.
Aspen and my grandmother in the same room . . . How do I even begin to wrap my head around what that means?
Wind whips Aspens’s hair across her face where she sits with her elbow against the open window, my hoodie swallowing her whole. She’s got her head tilted back, basking in the sunset that cuts across the sky.
I want to capture the entire day—imprint this feeling on my memory. From her to the ranch land stretching out in front of us, wide and open.
All of it is too perfect. Too unbelievable. None of it feels real.
I keep replaying one thing my grandmother said.
You make him lighter.
But I’m not sure that’s right, because I don’t feel lighter.
I feel anchored.
For the first time in two decades, I’m tethered instead of drifting.
Aspen shifts in her seat. Her fingers tap absently against her thigh, keeping time with the country song humming through the speakers.
“How are you doing over there?” I ask.
She hits me with the warmest smile. “I should be asking you that.”
“I think I’m just . . . processing.”
Her head bobs like that makes perfect sense.
Despite her calm, the air seemed to buzz.
“Good news is, you don’t need to figure it all out right now.”
“I guess I don’t.”
But maybe I want to.
I slow as the asphalt drops off and turns to gravel beneath the tires.
We pass through the battered ranch gate hanging permanently open—rusted too badly to close anymore.
A faded No Trespassing sign hangs crooked from one of the posts, split nearly in half from weather and time.
The Jeep’s wheels find the hollowed ruts that lead to the part of Perdition Ranch I occupy.
After a few minutes and a bumpy ride, the camper comes into view as the sun drops another inch. Pink fades to a bruising purple sky streaked with copper near the horizon.
My old camper van isn’t much, but it’s just enough for me. The paint carries a thin layer of dust from sitting empty. The only thing that shines about it is the stunning views.
Pines and mountains rise behind the camper while Perdition Ranch stretches wide and endless in front of it.
I turn off the engine and step out.
Aspen doesn’t wait for me, hopping out and joining me in front of the Jeep.
“This is home?”
Home. I’ve never really thought about it like that. It’s a base. A place I come to when I’ve run out of other places to go.
“This is it,” I say.
“Show me around?” she asks.
“What would you like to see first?”
“An impossible decision, really,” she deadpans. “Where are we, exactly?”
“The edge of Coyote Creek and Bramble. The plot of land is part of Perdition Ranch. I lease it from the ranch owners in exchange for keeping an eye on the fences out this way.”
“The view is . . .” She turns, her arms wrapping around her. “It’s incredible. I can’t believe you live here. I get it now.”
“Yeah?”
“Uh-huh,” she says, rubbing her arms over the sweatshirt.
“You’re freezing, aren’t you.”
“The dress was only practical while the sun was out.”
“Why don’t you change while I check things over and then we can head out before it gets much darker.”
“So, no tour?”
“You’ll still get the grand tour. Come on, Angel.” I round the Jeep, swinging the bag she packed over the side, and leading her toward the camper.
When we come around the side of it, I spot a problem straight away. My fingers tightens on the strap.
And things were going so well.
The front tire is flat as the plains, the rim resting on the red dirt.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
Aspen stops beside me. “What?”
I point at the tire. “Flat.”
After the day we’ve had, all I want is to curl up with Aspen, eat some dinner, and just be with her. Now we’ve got this to deal with.
“I’ll grab the jack,” I say.
Aspen’s already moving, catching my arm before I can take another step. “You are not wrestling a tire after everything your body’s been through.”
“It’s one tire.”
“And one stupid decision away from setting your recovery back.”
I exhale through my nose. If she weren’t here, I’d muscle through it and deal with the consequences later. But there’s no winning against a determined nurse.
“Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll supervise.”
Her grin turns smug instantly. “Perfect. You can use your words and point at things.”
“Living the dream.”
No one rolls up their sleeves and figures shit out better than Aspen. It’s one of the things I appreciate most about her. She truly believes she’s capable of anything.
If I’m honest, I’m a bit jealous of her in that way.
Lots of guys I know would rather call someone than have their girl do it, but fuck that. She wants to change my tire, I’ll hand her the tools.
“Okay, but let’s get you changed first. Wouldn’t want to wreck that pretty dress.”
She blushes and I dig my keys from my pocket, unlocking the camper door.
She ducks automatically, stepping inside before realizing the camper’s tall enough for her to stand comfortably.
I step up beside her, joining her.
“It’s very functional.”
“Kind of has to be.”
“So this is the . . .”
“Bedroom, kitchen and living room.”
“What, no bathroom?” She scoffs.
I reach around her, opening the narrow door a foot in front of us.
“Shower and toilet combined?”
“Still get the appeal?” I deadpan.
Her nose wrinkles adorably.
“Could be worse.” I shrug. “At least I’m not shitting outside with the wildlife.”
“Whatever you say. I have so many questions about the logistics.”
“I’m sure you do.” I snort. “Good news is, you don’t have to change in there. You can use this very spacious, non-bathroom area.”
The space is in fact very much not spacious. There’s a narrow walkway with a sink and small kitchenette area on one side and a small table with bench seats tucked beside the bathroom. The rest is a bed that is actually roomier than you’d expect.
“And are you just going to stand there and watch me like a voyeur.”
“Actually, I think I am.”
I scoot around her and perch my ass on the bed before kicking off my shoes.
Her eyeroll can’t hide the heat behind those dark eyes.
Reaching behind her, she pulls the door to the camper closed and lifts the hem of my sweatshirt.
Each movement is slow, designed to drag me to hell and back before giving me exactly what I want.
When she finally peels it over her head, it hits me square in the chest.
Game on.