Chapter Twenty-Seven Savannah
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Savannah
I breathe him in before my eyes float open. His lingering scent wraps around me like a cocoon, curling in the air, a spicy musk with a hint of leather and sandalwood. My lungs expand, pulling it in, letting it infuse my body and mind.
A smile plays at my lips as I reach for him. But all I find are cold sheets under my palm.
No warm body.
My eyes fly open. Is he seriously—?
I sit straight up in bed and scan the room. His clothes are gone.
He’s gone.
I fall back onto the pillows. I should have known. Things got too real, and he bolted. Again.
When the hell am I going to learn my lesson?
I throw the covers off myself and pull on some clothes. I roll my neck to relieve the crick, but it doesn’t do any good. It’s like a harsh reminder that as much as I want to eradicate Blaze Hartman from my heart, he’s burrowed in tight and deep like an Alabama tick.
Typical. I brush my teeth, cursing him as I spit and gurgle. Rubbing my fingertips over the spot on my neck where he sucked and nipped and left his mark, I shake my head.
Shame on me.
I walk downstairs, cracks of light slipping into the house through half-drawn windows. The floorboards creak as I step over them and pad toward the kitchen, my eyes as heavy as my heart.
After hitting the button on the coffee machine to start brewing, I turn on my laptop to review the latest draft of my business plan.
Soon, the rich and inviting aroma of fresh-brewed coffee fills the space. Notes of sweet caramel and molasses make my mouth water as I scan the text on my screen.
Screeching tires outside jolt me from my thoughts, a gasp catching in my throat when I whip around to look out the window.
“What the hell?” I yelp.
The south pasture is empty.
I run for the front door and tear out of the house, my feet barely touching the steps as I fly over them. My heart explodes against my chest, leg muscles tight and tense. In the distance, cattle scatter at the edge of the property line, some spread across the highway outside of the Red Rock gates.
Panic bubbles in my chest, my feet crushing gravel.
My chest heaves, the noxious smells of smoke and burning rubber catching in my throat.
I explode through the gate, my heart stuttering to a stop when I reach the jackknifed semi in the middle of the road.
I cover my mouth with my hand to silence the scream knotted in my throat.
Miss Bea.
“Ma’am, I’m so sorry,” the driver says. “I was comin’ down the road when she wandered out in front of me. I tried to stop in time, but it was too late.”
Tears sting my eyes. I fall down next to Miss Bea. Her breaths are labored, large brown eyes brimming with pain. I look her over, and a pang assaults my chest.
Her leg is broken.
“No, no, no . . .” I murmur, stroking the side of her face. “Poor baby. I’m so sorry.” I swipe at the tears slipping down my cheeks. “I don’t understand how this happened.”
The driver points out some of the cattle wandering farther down the road. “She’s not the only one, ma’am. Do you have someone to help you out?”
I shake my head, a sob exploding from my lips. “No, it’s just me right now.” My hand trembles where I hold it against Miss Bea. She whimpers again when she tries to move.
“She’s hurt real bad,” the driver says. “You want me to call someone?”
“No,” I say, my voice quivering. “I’ll take care of it.”
I reach into my pocket for my phone and dial Nash’s number. The screen blurs from the tears pooling in my eyes. He answers on the first ring.
“Savvie, what’s up?”
“I need you to get here as soon as possible. Something horrible has happened.”
“Okay,” he says, not pressing. “I’m on my way.”
I kneel next to Miss Bea, resting my head against her. “I’m so sorry I let this happen to you, girl. But we’re going to fix you up, okay? I promise. You’ll feel better so soon.”
I stroke the side of her face, her eyes still focused on me. Another weak whimper makes my throat tighten as memories pummel my mind. Mom loved Miss Bea so much and always said she was her other special girl.
Mom . . . I need you so much right now.
“I will fix this,” I whisper. “I will take care of you so you don’t hurt anymore. I promise.”
Cattle moan and low farther down the road, and I still have no idea how they managed to get off the property.
Scenarios fly through my mind, but none of them make sense.
The gates were all secured, as were the posts, when I went out there yesterday to do some chores.
I know there were parts of the fences that needed repair, but the guys had them reinforced temporarily.
With my free hand, I swipe at the tears streaking my face. My shoulders sag with relief when Nash’s truck pulls up along the side of the road. He jumps out and runs over to us.
“The whole herd is grazing outside the property line,” he mutters as he checks out Miss Bea’s leg. “Do you know how they got out?”
“No. I heard the accident and came running straight out here.” I swallow hard. “I know it looks bad, but we can call Dr. Burgess and he can—”
Nash pulls his hand over mine. “Savvie.”
My teeth chatter, the hairs on the back of my neck springing up at the sorrow in his eyes. “Wh-what?”
“We can’t save her. She’s hurt too bad.”
“No,” I say. “There has to be something we can do. She can heal. She has to, Nash.” The tears flow again. “She’s Mom’s favorite. We can’t let her go. Please, we have to do something.”
“There’s only one thing to do,” he says, his voice grave. “She’s suffering. You know it. You can feel it.”
“There has to be another way. Dr. Burgess—”
Nash puts a hand on my arm. “He’d tell you the same thing.”
I cover my face with my hands, my shoulders quaking with sobs. “I can’t. Nash, I just can’t.”
He nods. “I know. Take a minute with her. I’ll handle it.”
I clear my throat, the sides of my throat burning like I’ve just swallowed fire.
Nash walks back to his truck. I dip my head low and nuzzle Miss Bea’s snout.
“You’re so brave,” I whisper, my voice cracking.
“I know you’re hurt and so scared. But Mom is watching over you right now.
She loved you so very much.” I drag my fingers down the side of her neck.
“I’m so sorry I let you down, Miss Bea. I’m sorry I was so wrapped up in my own crap to notice that you guys were in danger.
If I’d have been paying closer attention, I’d have seen or heard something before you wandered into the road. I could have saved you.”
Miss Bea whimpers again as Nash walks over to us with his rifle.
“Nash, I can’t. There has to be something we can do, someone who can help her.” My words tumble out, tinged with desperation and anguish.
He squeezes my shoulder. “I know how hard this is for you, but this is the only way we can help her.”
“Are you sure?” I whisper. “There’s nothing we can do?”
He slowly shakes his head. “I’m sorry. She’s in bad shape. I’ve seen this kind of break before. She won’t recover.”
Tears spill over and stream down my face. “Okay,” I choke out.
“Why don’t you head into the house? I’ll wait until you’re inside.”
The lump in my throat grows to the point where I can barely swallow or breathe.
“I love you, Miss Bea. I’ll miss you so much,” I say before kissing the tip of her snout. Then I stagger to my feet and drag my eyes away from her pained face before racing back to the house. It’s not until I’m inside with my back pressed against the front door that the single shot rings out.
I slide down to the floor, sobbing, guilt and sadness tearing up my insides, raw, gaping wounds of grief that never did fully heal.
Every day, I lose more and more of what I’m trying so damn hard to hang onto.
Pretty soon, there won’t be anything left to fight for.
Minutes stretch into what feels like hours before Nash comes inside.
I’ve moved to the couch in the living room, hugging the soft, lavender-scented blanket close to my face.
He sits down next to me and leans forward, his elbows on his knees. “The cops came to file an accident report. And I called someone to take Miss Bea.”
Hearing her name again makes a fresh torrent of tears flood my eyes.
“I also called a couple of friends to help herd the rest of the cattle. Mikey and Randy are on their way too.”
I look at him without really seeing him, my body and mind numb. “Okay,” I say dully.
“Things are looking pretty bad out there, Savvie. I won’t lie. One part of the fence was cut through. That’s how the cattle escaped. And some of them are injured with deep gashes that need medical attention. Can you call Dr. Burgess?”
I nod, shock still consuming my guilt-ridden mind. “Yes.”
Nash peers at me for a long minute and then takes my phone. “Maybe I should just call him.”
“Okay,” I say again.
He finds the number and dials. “Hey, Dr. Burgess. This is Nash Carlson. I’m out at Red Rock, and we’ve had an accident . . .”
I tune out the rest of his assessment, so many things tumbling around in my head.
The fence was cut. Sometime last night.
It didn’t break. It didn’t fall apart. It was tampered with.
But by whom? And why?
A shudder ripples through me. Who would want to hurt us so badly?
Nash’s veiled warnings, Blaze’s unexplained overprotectiveness. What the hell do they know that I don’t?
Nash ends the call. “Dr. Burgess will be here as soon as he can.”
I look down at the edge of the blanket between my fingers. “Who would have cut the fence?”
Nash sweeps a hand through his hair and turns away from me and walks to the window next to the front door.
His back is stiff, jaw tense as he stares out the window.
“You know there were parts that needed repair. Or it could’ve been vandals.
Kids messing around. Maybe just old wire that finally gave way.
Sometimes a clean break can look like a cut. ”
“You really think it was just kids?”