Chapter 21 #2
"You could say that." I breathed in the smell of him—hay and sunshine and something uniquely Blaine. "Can we talk?"
He pulled back, searching my face. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah. I just..." I took his hand. "Something happened today. I need to tell you about it."
We walked to the porch swing—our spot, I'd started thinking of it. The place where we had our real conversations, the ones that mattered.
"Preston came to see me," I said.
Blaine went very still. "At the clinic?"
"Yeah." I told him everything—the job offer, the partnership, the second chance. I didn't leave anything out, including how excited I'd gotten discussing the clinic plans before reality set in.
When I finished, Blaine was quiet. Too quiet.
"Say something," I said.
"You turned him down."
"Of course I turned him down."
"That job is everything you ever wanted."
"Was." I squeezed his hand. "Past tense. What I want now is here. With you."
He didn't respond. Just sat there, staring out at the pastures, his jaw tight.
"Blaine. Talk to me."
"You came here because you love large animals," he said quietly. "That's what drives you. That's your passion."
"And I get to work with them every day?—"
"In a small practice with limited equipment and a shoestring budget." He finally looked at me. "Caitlin, I've heard you on the phone, referring cases out because you don't have the right diagnostic tools. I've seen your face when you talk about procedures you wish you could offer but can't."
"Every rural practice has limitations?—"
"And Preston is offering you a chance to build something without limitations.
State-of-the-art equipment. Your own team.
The ability to practice medicine exactly the way you want.
" He stood, pacing to the railing. "How do you know you won't wake up in six months, or a year, and realize you gave all that up for a small-town practice that can never be what you really want? "
"Because I know what I want."
"Do you?" He turned to face me, and the uncertainty in his eyes made my chest ache. "Caitlin, I love you. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone. And that's exactly why I need you to be sure."
"I am sure."
"Then prove it." He took a breath. "Go home. Your home. Take some time—a few days, a week, whatever you need. Think about what you're giving up. Really think about it."
I stared at him, stunned. "You're sending me away?"
"I'm giving you space to make the most important decision of your life without me influencing it." He crossed back to me, cupping my face in his hands. "I want you to choose me. But I need you to choose me with your eyes open. Not because you're caught up in the romance of it all."
"Blaine—"
"Please." His voice was rough. "If you come back—when you come back—I'll know it's real. I'll know you're sure. And we can build our life together without either of us wondering 'what if.'"
Tears burned in my eyes. "This feels like you're pushing me away."
"This is me loving you enough to let you go." He kissed my forehead. "If this is right—if we're right—a few days apart won't change that."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him he was being ridiculous, that I didn't need time, that I'd never been more certain of anything in my life.
But I could see the fear behind his certainty. The worry that he wasn't enough, that this life wasn't enough, that one day I'd wake up and regret everything.
And maybe he was right. Maybe I did need to sit with this decision. Not because I had doubts, but because he needed me to.
"Okay," I said quietly. "I'll go."
Relief and pain warred on his face. "Thank you."
"But Blaine?" I stood, taking his hands. "When I come back—and I will come back—I don't want to hear any more doubts. No more 'are you sure.' No more giving me space. I'm going to choose you, and I need you to believe that."
"I'll try."
"Don't try. Do." I kissed him—hard and fierce. "I love you. That's not going to change in a few days."
"I love you too."
I walked to my truck on shaky legs, my heart aching. This wasn't how I'd imagined this conversation going. I'd expected relief, celebration, maybe a night of champagne and laughter.
Instead, I was driving away from the man I loved, trying to prove something I already knew.
My apartment felt foreign.
I'd only been staying at the ranch for a few weeks, but somehow this place—the place I'd called home for months—felt like it belonged to someone else. The furniture was the same. The pictures on the walls. The coffee mug I'd left in the sink before my last shift.
But I wasn't the same.
I lasted about six hours before I called Jess.
"Hey, stranger," she said when she answered. "How's ranch life treating you?"
"I'm at my apartment."
A pause. "Why are you at your apartment?"
"It's a long story."
"I've got time." I heard her settling into a chair. "Spill."
So I did. All of it—Preston's visit, his offer, the practice he wanted to build. Blaine's reaction. The way he'd asked me to take space, to think, to be sure.
"And now I'm sitting in my apartment like an idiot," I finished, "trying to figure out what I already know."
Jess was quiet for a moment. "Okay. I'm going to ask you some hard questions. Not because I don't support you, but because I love you and I want you to be sure."
"That's what Blaine said."
"Smart man. Here's the first one." She paused. "Preston's offer—the clinic he's describing. Digital radiography. MRI access. Surgical suites. Rehab facility. You know how rare that is, right?"
"I know."
"You and I both work in practices where we have to refer out half the cases we see because we don't have the equipment. You've complained about it. I've complained about it. It's one of the most frustrating parts of this job."
"I know, Jess."
"So I need you to really sit with this. Not the romance part—the career part. Could you be happy in a small-town practice for the rest of your life? Knowing you'll never have the tools to do everything you're capable of?"
The question hit harder than I expected. Because she was right. I had complained about it. There were cases I'd had to send away—horses I could have helped if I'd had better equipment. Diagnoses I'd missed because I was working with outdated technology.
"I don't know," I admitted.
"That's an honest answer." Jess's voice softened. "Now here's the other side. When you talk about Blaine—when you talk about the ranch, the horses, that life—what do you feel?"
"Happy." The word came out immediately. "Settled. Like I finally found the place I'm supposed to be."
"And when you were with Preston? When you had the fancy apartment and the prestigious practice and all the equipment you could want?"
I thought about it. Really thought about it.
"Empty," I said quietly. "I had everything I was supposed to want, and I still felt like something was missing."
"There's your answer."
"But the career stuff?—"
"Caitlin, listen to me." Jess's voice was firm. "Equipment is just equipment. You can build a practice. You can fundraise, apply for grants, grow over time. But finding someone who sees you? Who loves you for exactly who you are? That's rare. That's once-in-a-lifetime."
"I know." I felt tears prick my eyes. "I choose Blaine over all of these shiny objects. I love him, Jess. I really do."
"I know you do, sweetie." Her voice softened. "But I also think you need to be realistic about what you're signing up for. Small-town practice. Limited resources. A life that looks nothing like what you planned."
"I know."
"And you need to think about the future. Not just next year—ten years from now. Twenty. Do you want to build a life with this man? Have kids on that ranch? Grow old watching horses graze in the pasture?"
I closed my eyes and let myself imagine it. Really imagine it.
Blaine, gray at the temples, still bringing carrots to Cisco's successor. Kids running through the barn, learning to ride the way he never did as a child. Christmases with Lily flying in from whatever country she was saving. Sunday dinners with Jake and Tre and whoever they ended up with.
A life. A real life. Full and messy and imperfect and ours.
"Yes," I whispered. "I want all of that."
"Then why are you still sitting in your apartment?"
"Because he asked me to think. To be sure."
"And are you? Sure?"
"I've been sure since the moment I drove away."
"Then give it another day or two—for his sake, not yours. Let him see that you took this seriously. And then go home, Caitlin." I could hear the smile in her voice. "Go home to your rancher."
"When did you get so wise?"
"I've always been wise. You just never listen." She laughed. "Now get some sleep. And call me the second he proposes."
"He's not going to?—"
"Please. That man is going to marry you. It's just a matter of when." She paused. "I expect to be maid of honor, by the way."
"You'll have to fight Lily for it."
"I'll win. I fight dirty."
I was laughing when I hung up—the first real laugh since I'd left Sierra Sol.
Jess was right. I'd known my answer before I'd even gotten in the truck. The career, the equipment, the prestige—none of it mattered. Not compared to what I'd found.
But I'd give it another day. Maybe two.
And then I'd go home.
But as the lights of the town faded and the quiet of my apartment pressed in, Preston's words crept back.
Digital radiography. MRI access. Your own surgical suite with proper anesthesia recovery. Underwater treadmills. Embryo transfer programs.
Everything I'd ever dreamed of building. Equipment I'd only read about in journals. The ability to treat cases I currently had to refer out, to offer services this community desperately needed but couldn't access without driving hours to a major city.
My current clinic was good. It was enough. But it would never be that .
Was I really willing to give all of it up? The chance to practice medicine at the highest level, with the best tools, on my own terms?
For a small-town practice with secondhand equipment and a budget held together with duct tape and hope?
For a man I'd known for three months?
Yes , my heart said immediately.
But Blaine was right. I needed to sit with this. Really sit with it.
A few days. That was all.
I could survive a few days.