Chapter One Savannah
Chapter One
Savannah
Six Years Later
This presentation could change my life.
I flash a bright smile at the group of executives in the conference room, wiggling my toes in high heels that are a bit too tight to be comfortable.
My eyes connect with Caroline Janning’s, and she gives me a nod. As the CEO of the Sterling Strategy Group, she has the final say in all promotions, so there’s no room for any mistakes.
“Welcome, everyone. I’d like to jump right into the results of our last three campaigns. As you can see from the metrics over the most recent quarter—”
A buzzing sound jolts me. I glance down at the conference room table, where my phone skitters across the wood grain.
Nash? He never calls during business hours.
Actually, my brother rarely calls me at all ever since I left Whiskey Creek six years ago.
I swallow hard before continuing with the next slide.
“The campaigns have performed exceedingly well over the past few months. We have expanded customer reach in the—”
The phone buzzes. Again.
My gut clenches at the sight of his name. Heat creeps up the sides of my neck. Something’s wrong.
“Savannah?” Caroline lifts a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at me.
I can’t pick up the phone. If I do, I can kiss this promotion goodbye.
But the buzzing doesn’t stop. When I don’t pick up the second time, the phone immediately vibrates again.
Panic flares in my chest. I force a smile and scoop up the phone.
“I’m so sorry, but I just need a minute.”
Caroline clucks her disapproval, and my heart plummets into my painful shoes. Six months of hard work sucked down the drain the second I rush out of the room, my hopes for the promotion that would make me the youngest manager here completely snuffed out.
Once I’m in the hallway, I stab the Accept button and hiss into the phone, “Nash, I’m in the middle of the biggest presentation of my career. What is so urgent?”
“It’s Aunt Margaret.” Nash’s voice is hollow. Devastated. “She had a heart attack. She’s . . . she’s gone, Savannah.”
I slide down to the floor. The phone slips from my fingers.
Once reality sinks in, I pull myself together and rush to my office.
My heart lodges in my throat as I throw my laptop and phone into my leather tote bag and head toward the elevator, too wrought with grief to even look back at the conference room I ran from only minutes earlier.
My throat is so tight, I can barely breathe.
I stab the Down button once, twice, three times, eyes stinging with unshed tears that threaten to fall.
“Savannah.” Tom Landry, my boss, runs over. “What happened back there? Who was on the phone?”
I stare at my shoes. “Tom, I’m really sorry. I know I just screwed up my chances for that promotion, but I need to go home. It’s a family emergency. My aunt . . . my aunt—”
I choke on a sob before I can get the words out.
Tom’s eyes widen, and then he gives my shoulder a pat and nods. “Go take care of what you need to. I’ll handle the rest of the presentation. We’re here for you, okay? Just be safe.”
When the elevator doors finally close, I cover my face with my hands.
Aunt Margaret is dead.
When the elevator doors open on the parking garage level, I run to my car and sink into the driver’s seat. My head falls forward against the steering wheel.
“I can’t believe she’s really gone,” I whisper. “And I’ll never get to tell her why I really left.”
Hours later, I turn off the interstate at the exit for Whiskey Creek, Wyoming, and head toward Red Rock Ranch—Aunt Margaret’s beloved home. Through red-rimmed eyes, I stare at the white-peaked Bighorn Mountains in the distance, passing Lover’s Bluff.
I swipe at a tear with the back of my hand.
That’s where it happened. Where I stupidly thought I’d found my forever. What an idiot I was for believing anything he ever said to me.
I turn a corner. Gravel crackles under my tires, the car bouncing over the uneven dirt road. My heart sinks into my stomach when I spot Nash’s dusty red pickup truck.
I slowly get out of the car and stare at the house for a few long minutes, the sun beating bright in the cloudless sky.
How ironic that such a perfect day would morph into one of the worst of my life.
The stairs creak under my feet, the porch worn and in need of a new coat of paint.
Metal chimes hanging overhead dance as a whisper of a breeze kisses them.
I grasp the scratched brass handle on the door, and it clicks open.
The scent of lavender permeates the air.
It doesn’t comfort me one tiny bit the way it used to.
I move into the airy living room, gazing out the large bow windows that look as freshly washed as the day they were installed.
Books artfully arranged on the coffee table, floors shiny and clean as if they’d just been waxed.
Aunt Marg always kept things neat, clean, and überorganized.
The front door opens, and I jump, startled from my jagged thoughts.
My brother narrows his green eyes at me and pulls off his hat. He uses the back of his sleeve to mop the sweat from his face. “So. You’re back.”
“Of course, I came right away—”
He rolls his eyes and pushes past me to head into the kitchen. “Only takes someone dyin’ to get you back here.”
I recoil, following him. “Nash, that’s not fair. You know how busy I’ve been—”
“Save it, Savvie,” he bites out. “You didn’t give a damn enough about us to come back for a visit. And Aunt Marg, she always made excuses for you. ‘Savvie’s got a great job, and she’s so busy traveling,’” he mimics. “You abandoned us. And now you’re gonna have to live with that.”
A lump forms in the back of my throat. “Look, Nash, I know you’re hurting. We both are. But lashing out at me isn’t going to bring her back. We shouldn’t be at odds with each other, not now.”
He grabs a bottle of beer from the fridge and uses the edge of the counter to pop off the top.
“A little early for that, isn’t it?” I ask as he nearly finishes the bottle in one gulp, knowing I’m poking the bear but unable to stop myself. I don’t deserve this treatment from him. I’ve been punishing myself enough.
He levels me with a glare. “You should have been here, and you weren’t.”
“I’m here now,” I croak out.
“Yeah, well, too little, too late. I hope you got that big promotion you were after. I hope it’s worth it to you.”
“I know you’re angry, but anytime I tried to reach out, you pushed me away.” I can hear the crack in my voice. “Why couldn’t you just talk to me? Why did it have to be—?”
“You fucking took off like we meant nothing. We were both hurting, and you left. And Red Rock is in shambles, has been for years. I’ve been working my ass off to help get it back on its feet. But did you ever ask about it, about us? No. Never,” he snarls, his voice edged with scorching fury.
“Stop it, Nash. We’re all we have left. Do you really want to leave things this way when I go back to Denver?”
“When you go back to your luxury life in the big city? Does it matter?” he snaps. “It’s not like I’m ever gonna see you again once you leave. You probably won’t show up back here until my funeral.”
“You have to know I always loved you, Nash. But I just couldn’t stay after .
. . everything.” It was bad enough Nash found out about the affair the night our parents died in that explosion.
He’d been in shock and completely grief stricken.
Then we just piled betrayal on top of the horrors at the ranch.
“I’m sorry you’re mad at me for leaving, but I had to go. ”
“No, Savvie. I’m not sorry you left. I’m sorry you never cared enough to come back.
” I recoil as he pushes past me. “You don’t have any idea what I went through after you left.
The debts, the threats, the groveling for dipshit jobs that I needed to take to keep this place running because it was all I had . . .”
He clenches his fists. “Doesn’t matter. Blaze abandoned me, then you did.
So you know what? Fuck you both. You both betrayed me, snuck around behind my back, lied to me for months.
” His lips twist, like they’re coated with poison.
“Then you left me. And after the will reading, we can just forget about each other. I’ll take care of the ranch because I’m the only one who gives a shit about the last piece of our family legacy, and you can run back to your fancy job with whatever money she left you. ”
He stalks back out the front door and slams it shut. The tires of his truck squeal minutes later as he speeds down the drive.
I’m still reeling when I walk out onto the front porch a few hours later, clutching one of the white columns. Aunt Marg is gone, my career goals are shattered, and my brother hates me.
I don’t blame him one bit. After all, I left him alone to pick up the jagged pieces of his life after the worst tragedy imaginable claimed the lives of our parents. And I never once asked if he needed help, nor did I bother to come home for a visit to reconcile with him.
In his eyes, it must have felt like I died in that explosion too.
I can’t imagine how anything could possibly get wor—
The thought stutters, my insides turning to ice when I look up to see a truck parked at the end of the drive. Even after all this time, I know that truck . . . and the silhouette of the man sitting inside of it.
Blaze fucking Hartman.
I wrap my fingers tight around the paint-chipped column, narrowing my eyes at the darkened windshield. I can’t see his face, but I feel his caramel-colored eyes on me. I feel them everywhere.
What is he even doing here? As far as I know, he’s supposed to be overseas serving in the military. That was the last update I’d heard from Aunt Marg years ago. And there’s definitely no love lost between him and Nash, so he wouldn’t just pop by for a visit.
My breath hitches as he adjusts his hat, fire racing through my veins, my knees buckling like I’m that silly, dickmatized eighteen-year-old again.
And then I remember the way he looked at me after my parents’ funeral. How cold and vacant his eyes were, how guarded and hard. And those caustic words he spoke . . .
“This whole thing between us was a mistake, Savannah. It’s done. We’re done.”
Rage burns hot in my chest, my skin prickling under the weight of his stare. And I hate that my body never got on the same page as my head and heart as far as Blaze was concerned.
My dark and dirty secret is back in Whiskey Creek to haunt me.
The engine of the truck roars to life, and he slowly backs out of the drive.
My heart thrashes as he pulls onto the main road.
I watch the back of his truck disappear, then I slump against the railing, surrounded by the ruins of what was supposed to be my perfect life, my body remembering every second of what it felt like to be his.
A shuddering breath escapes my lips.
And here I was, thinking things couldn’t possibly get any worse.