1. Billie
Billie
T wo weeks had passed since Xander's call, and I still felt like I was walking around with my heart on the outside of my chest, vulnerable to every sharp edge the world might throw at it.
I stood at the window of my office at the rehabilitation center, watching the clock on my desk tick closer to three o'clock.
Xander's truck would pull into the ranch any minute now, carrying the one person I'd never quite learned how to stop loving.
The one person who'd left me with nothing but a letter and a lifetime of questions.
The rehab center was quiet this afternoon.
My last patient had finished their session an hour ago, and I'd sent everyone else home early.
I'd told myself it was because I had treatment plans to finalize, equipment to check, professional boundaries to reinforce in my own mind.
But the truth was, I'd wanted to be alone when he arrived.
I'd wanted the option to fall apart in private if I needed to.
And God, I might need to.
I'd read Gage's letter so many times over the past two weeks that I could recite it from memory, not that I couldn't before. Every word of love and regret and self-loathing. Every promise that leaving was the only way to protect me from whatever darkness he carried inside him.
You were always too good for me. You still are.
The words echoed in my mind as I paced from the window to my treatment table and back again, unable to settle anywhere. He'd been wrong about that. I wasn't too good for anyone. I was just a small-town girl who'd fallen in love with her best friend and never quite figured out how to fall out of it.
My phone buzzed with a text from Delaney.
How are you holding up? We're all thinking about you today.
I smiled despite my nerves. The Farrington family's chosen family network was one of the best things about coming back to Willowbrook. When one of them hurt, they all rallied around. When one of them needed support, the rest showed up without being asked.
I went to text back fine, then immediately deleted it.
Nervous as hell, but I'll be okay.
Delaney's response came back immediately.
You don't have to do this if it's too hard. We'd understand.
But that was the thing. I did have to do this.
Not because anyone was forcing me, but because I was the best physical therapist he'd find without having to travel into the city.
Gage deserved the best care possible, and despite everything that had happened between us, despite the way he'd left, I still cared about his well-being more than my own comfort.
And maybe, if I was being honest with myself, because I needed to see him again. Needed to know if the boy I'd loved was still somewhere inside the man he'd become. Needed to know if the connection we'd shared had been real or just the fantasy of a teenage girl who'd mistaken intensity for love.
A cloud of dust on the ranch road caught my attention through the window, and my heart immediately jumped into my throat. Xander's truck, moving slowly over the gravel, a figure visible in the passenger seat.
Gage.
There was nothing familiar about the shape of the man in the passenger seat.
Would I even recognize him? Eleven years was a long time, and people changed from their teenage selves.
But the figure I could make out had to be him.
There was no one else it could be. There was no way I could see any real detail at this distance, but he was definitely broader now, more filled out than he'd been at eighteen.
Even so, the sight of him hit me like a physical blow, stealing my breath and making my knees weak.
I pressed my hand to the window, watching as the truck turned toward the main house.
In a few hours, I'd be expected at the ranch for dinner.
Xander had mentioned it casually when we'd talked about Gage's treatment plan, but I knew it wasn't casual at all.
It was the family's way of showing support, of making sure Gage knew he was welcome home despite the years of silence.
And it was their way of making sure I didn't chicken out.
My phone rang, and Blake's name appeared on the screen. I answered before I could lose my nerve.
"They just pulled up," she said without preamble. "How are you doing?"
"I feel like I'm going to throw up," I admitted, sinking into my desk chair. "This is crazy, Blake. What was I thinking, agreeing to this?"
"You were thinking that you're a professional who can help someone in need," Blake said firmly. "And you were thinking that running away from difficult things isn't who you are."
That was Blake. Direct, honest, and completely unwilling to let me wallow in self-pity. It was one of the things I loved most about her, even when it was the last thing I wanted to hear.
"What if I can't handle it?" I asked, voicing the fear that had been eating at me for two weeks. "What if seeing him every day, touching him during therapy sessions, pretending like he didn't break my heart… what if I can't do it?"
"Then you'll figure it out as you go," Blake said simply. "But Billie, honey, you've been carrying a torch for that boy for eleven years. Maybe this is your chance to finally put it down."
Or maybe it was my chance to get burned all over again.
We talked for a while about nothing in particular, and after Blake hung up, I forced myself to move.
I pulled out the files I'd been preparing, treatment plans to finalize, equipment to check, professional boundaries to reinforce in my own mind.
I couldn't show up to dinner tonight looking like a woman who'd spent the afternoon falling apart over a man who'd left her over a decade ago.
I could do this. I was a strong, capable woman. A goddamn professional. I'd helped dozens of patients recover from injuries just like Gage's. The fact that I'd once loved him didn't change the medicine, didn't change the therapy protocols, didn't change what his body would need to heal.
Blake was right. It was time to set aside the childish fantasy I'd had of the boy he used to be and use this as an opportunity to move on.
I pulled my hair back into a professional ponytail, straightened my blouse, and practiced my therapist voice until it sounded steady and confident. Until I looked like someone who could handle anything, even the return of a man who'd once made her believe in forever.
The walk from the rehab center to the main house felt both endless and far too short.
Every familiar landmark along the way triggered a memory.
The old oak tree where Gage had carved our initials when we were fifteen, the barn where he'd taught me to throw a perfect spiral, the meadow where we'd spent countless summer afternoons talking about our dreams for the future.
Dreams that had died the night he left.
I'd walked this land thousands of times over the years, but today it felt like traveling through a minefield of memories. Each one threatened to break through the professional composure I'd worked so hard to build.
By the time I was standing on the porch, my palms were slick with sweat and my chest felt tight with anxiety.
Xander's truck was parked near the front door, empty now.
Gage would be inside somewhere, probably being fussed over by his brothers, probably feeling overwhelmed by the attention he'd convinced himself he didn't deserve.
I stood on that porch for a long moment, gathering my courage.
Through the kitchen window, I could see movement.
Figures passing back and forth, the warm glow of family life.
Even when Regina had been at her meanest, this place had been our sanctuary.
The ranch was where we'd all come to escape our reality and just be kids under Gage’s grandfather's not-so-watchful gaze.
Or maybe he just enjoyed letting us be kids and tearing around like crazy folk.
This place was special to all of us. It always had been, especially for the Farrington brothers who had used it as an escape, and especially for me.
This was the place where Gage and I had fallen in love. Where that friendship we'd fallen into in the schoolyard had solidified into something more, into something neither of us had dared voice until that final fateful night.
My phone buzzed again. This time it was Xander.
He's asking about you. Says he doesn't want you to feel obligated to help him. I told him too bad. You're the best PT in three counties and he's stuck with you.
Despite my nerves, I smiled. That sounded exactly like something Gage would say. Trying to give everyone an out, trying to make himself as small and unobtrusive as possible. The boy who'd never quite believed he deserved good things, even when he was surrounded by people who loved him.
Tell him I don't do anything I don't want to do. I'll be in shortly.
Don't stand on the porch all night.
I shook my head and laughed. Of course Xander would have noticed I was already outside.
But I just needed another minute. Another minute to remember that I wasn't eighteen anymore.
I was twenty-nine, a successful professional with my own life, my own accomplishments, my own identity beyond being the girl Gage Farrington had left behind.
I'd built something good here in Willowbrook.
A career I loved, friends who supported me, a sense of purpose that had nothing to do with him.
I could handle seeing him again. I could handle being his physical therapist without falling apart. I could handle the inevitable moments when our hands would touch during therapy sessions, when I'd have to put my professional hands on his damaged body and help him heal.
The thought made my stomach flutter with something that wasn't entirely anxiety.
Stop it, I told myself firmly. Professional. Clinical. That's all this was.