CHAPTER 41
Frankie
I’m sitting at the outdoor fire ring, head in my hands. I have a horrible headache, and I feel adrift. Confused.
Too exhausted to move.
I barely slept last night.
Being alone here, after several days with Special K by my side, felt impossibly lonely. His absence left a hole inside me. Pussy cried all night.
You and me both, girlfriend.
I stroke her fur as she sits curled in my lap.
Last night, without Special K, all the fears came back with a black vengeance. Every sound in the wilderness made me jump. My heart raced.
There’s no escaping the truth. No amount of wishing will change the predicament I’m in. I can’t continue to live under the delusion that I’m safe here in the wilderness. That Niko won’t know where to look for me, or that he’ll lose interest in searching.
I’m lying to myself if I think I can outsmart him.
Or predict the wild swings in his moods, his wants.
I was in danger the day I met him and every day after.
I was in danger the night I arrived here on this mountain and every hour since.
And I’ll be in danger every day for the rest of my life—even with Special K.
And the more time that beautiful, loving man spends with me, the easier it will be for the evil that clings to me to jump onto him—and his family. Like a contagion.
I should just go. Like right now. I should pack the stuff that I’ll likely need, hike down the mountain with Pussy, and get in the Toyota.
And leave.
I don’t want to. Of course, I don’t want to walk away from what has all the markings of something outrageously good. Real happiness. I’d give anything to stay.
I’ll be a crying mess, for sure. Leaving Special K will be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’ll be angry and heartbroken for a long, long time. Probably for the rest of my life.
But the fact remains—I should go. Just rip off the Band-Aid and keep moving.
My only hope is that one day he’ll forgive me for everything I couldn’t do. How I couldn’t open up to him and how I left without saying goodbye. I hope he’ll one day be able to remember me and smile.
I know I’ll carry him with me for as long as I live—however long that might be.
“Mmmmrrrup.”
I glance up, hearing it too.
It’s the sound of horse hooves coming up the ridge, and I already know it’s not Special K and, his handsome roan. I hear lots of hooves, not just four. And the steps are lighter, quicker.
I grab Pussy and run inside, closing the door. I grab the gun and peer out the edge of the wavy window glass. I don’t know what I expect to see. A sheriff’s posse? Do those things still exist?
I wait to see what’s about to become the next thing I’ll have to deal with.
“What the hell…?”
I set down the gun and fling open the door. I stand on the threshold, waiting.
It’s not Special K and it’s not a sheriff’s posse, at least not the one in my imagination.
A striking, dark-haired woman in a cowboy hat moseys in on a Palomino. Behind her is a beautiful redhead, who’s followed by a third woman with golden eyes and freckles on a working ranch horse, and in the very back is a cute, smaller woman with straight black hair and huge brown eyes.
The last woman is riding the smaller Quarter Horse mare Special K tried to get me to keep on hand.
Which means these women are connected to him.
Which means I know who they are.
I let out a startled laugh because I’m looking right at Special K’s sisters-in-law. He told me all about his family, and I’m pretty sure I can pick out each of them—Victoria, Emma, Phoebe, and Summer.
I step outside and place Pussy on the ground, her leash wrapped around my wrist.
“Nailed it!” the woman in front says. It’s Summer, without a doubt. She studies me from her saddle, controlling her spirited horse while looking me up and down. “Verdict’s in—surface of the sun, ladies!”
Victoria is right behind her on a regal, slender Thoroughbred. She produces a diplomatic smile. “We’re very sorry for interrupting your privacy, but we were hoping we might have a little visit and chat a bit.”
“Sure,” I say. “I’m Frankie. You must be Victoria.”
Her eyes pop.
“And you’re Summer,” I say, nodding. Then I go down the line. “Hello, Phoebe. Hello, Emma.”
“Well, fuckin-A,” Summer exclaims. “Hey!” She points to my hiking boots. “I wondered where those got to! Did Special K bring them up here for you?”
I feel totally ridiculous. “Yes, but he didn’t tell me they belonged to someone else.”
Victoria laughs, dismounting. “We all steal Summer’s boots. She’s got ninety pairs, and that’s just the cowboy boots.”
“I’m down to about eighty-two pairs these days, and only half those fit my fat feet.” Summer dismounts too. Phoebe and Emma follow.
Summer’s horse snorts and lowers her head, curious about Pussy, who puffs up her fur and hisses in a show of dominance.
“I think she’s intimidated,” I say as an explanation for my cat’s behavior.
“But you’re not, clearly,” Phoebe says, grinning.
“What’s your cat’s name?” Emma asks, crouching down to rub behind her ears. “She’s such a sweet, sweet thing!”
“Her name’s Pussy.”
It goes quiet for a moment before the snickering begins.
“Anyway,” Victoria clears her throat. “First off, you should know that Special K didn’t send us. He has absolutely no idea we’re here, so don’t be mad at him.”
“He’ll be seriously pissed off if he finds out, too,” Summer says, stepping forward. Special K told me she’s a few months pregnant, and I can see the beginning pooch of her belly.
“Oh, he’ll find out,” Emma says, standing from her crouch. “Yosemite Ranch is where secrets go to become breaking news.”
They all laugh.
“It certainly seems that way,” I say.
Truth is, I’m a little surprised by this feminine ambush. “What can I do for you ladies? I don’t have much to offer by way of refreshments, just tea, and I only have two mugs.”
All four women exchange pointed looks.
“Thank you for the offer, but we don’t need anything,” Victoria says. “Maybe just a few minutes of your time if you don’t mind.”
“We’re here because we wondered what was making Special K act so weird,” Summer explains. “Mystery solved.”
“You’re not exactly how we pictured the infamous Squatter of Washoe Ridge,” Phoebe says, eyes sparkling.
I like her immediately. Actually, I like all of them immediately, even though each one is very different from the others.
I know I’d enjoy spending time with them, and instantly, a wave of sadness washes over me, a sense of loss.
Because this kind of future and family is not in the stars for me.
But, wait. The Squatter of Washoe Ridge? “Is that how I’m described? Special K and his flowery language, am I right?”
Everyone freezes, then bursts out laughing.
We sit out by the fire ring and chat. Emma has brought a picnic breakfast, and we eat, talk, and laugh, as if it’s totally normal that I’m hiding out here in the wilderness with my cat, wearing stolen boots, so obviously a fish out of water.
I know they’ve come up to be nosy, and that’s why it’s so weird that nobody asks me any probing questions about myself. It’s bizarre really, and I don’t know that I’d be able to resist if I was in their shoes.
The questions they do ask are surface-level, with zero follow-ups.
“Where do you live?”
“Oh, I just recently moved from Las Vegas.”
“Where are you headed?”
“I’m weighing a couple of options—not really sure yet.”
“What kind of work do you do?”
“I’m in the hospitality industry.”
“Are you here alone?”
“Yep, just me and Pussy.”
“Do you have everything you need?”
“Yes, thank you. Special K has delivered some supplies. He’s been very thoughtful when he really didn’t have to be.”
“Do you plan to stay long?”
“No, not too much longer. I’ll be heading out soon.”
There is one moment when Summer can’t keep it in any longer and she blurts out, “Help me out here. Are you and Special K—?”
Phoebe places her hand on Summer’s knee, and her lips snap shut.
Conversation then moves on to weddings, past and future. Babies, future. Wedding dresses. Pregnancy. Horses. Houses. Cows.
They stay until late morning. I get a hug from each one of them before they leave. I’m actually sorry to see them go, and as I watch them ride through the pines, I wish I could’ve been honest with them.
I’m pretty sure I’ve just made four new friends.
Pity I’ll never see them again.