Chapter 20
sarah
Avet’s clinic smells like antiseptic. Period. You can buy all the air purifiers you want; that smell isn’t going anywhere. It’d be worse if I boarded animals, which I don’t, ‘cause I’m a large-animal vet.
Sure, I’ll patch up a dog or cat if someone brings one in, but most professional care I offer happens out on the ranch.
This is Wildflower Canyon, not West Hollywood. Folks don’t carry poodles in purses—they’ve got cow dogs and barn cats.
I’ve been throwing myself into work, taking calls outside the Canyon and working for ranchers who are glad for my skill set and don’t care that I’m Sarah Kirk, the girl who “tried to ruin” Landon Mercer, who tried to “turn brother against brother.”
Being busy has given me an excuse not to call Marnie Evans back.
She sent a message: No matter what you decide, Sarah, you’ve already won. You built a life. You survived.
I want to believe her, but most days survival doesn’t feel like victory—it feels like dragging yourself across broken glass and calling it progress.
Bull fucking shit!
Guilt sits heavy inside of me. My therapist says it doesn’t belong to me, but that doesn’t change the fact that if I’d been louder, if Landon had been stopped then, so many girls might have been spared. The fact that he targets women who look like me makes me sick.
So I hide in my job. I’m avoiding people, even the kind ones.
Joy tests by threatening to drag me dancing. Elena stopped by to invite me to lunch. I turned her down.
I still see Mav and Aria because I’m their vet, but I’ve gone quiet, turned inward. They see it. They want to help. I don’t know how they can. I mean, if I knew how, I’d help myself.
I’ve even been avoiding Evie—timing my hours so I’m not at the clinic when she’s at Joy’s boutique. I barely know her, but those days caring for Bandit knitted us together, and I miss her. I love that kid—probably because she’s Cade’s, which makes her half him.
I still love him. I know that, and it makes me a prize fool.
The man who chose blood over me. Landon may have violated my body, but Cade desecrated my soul.
That girl who died by suicide, the one Marnie told me about—her blood is on both of us. Mostly on me. I knew the truth about Landon. I should’ve pushed harder, gone above that deputy. I should’ve—
These are the circular thoughts I’ve been whipping myself with.
I open a box of supplies.
Busywork helps until it’s time to fall asleep. Then it’s nightmares.
Therapy helps, but healing takes time. I’m talking to my therapist weekly because I’m in crisis.
I just finished a session, and like always, it opened more wounds to clean.
“You look exhausted, Sarah,” Dr. Leighton says gently. “How are you sleeping?”
My therapist’s calm face fills the Zoom window: tidy bun, soft cardigan, unshakeable. I wish I could borrow that steadiness.
A sharp, bitter laugh slips out. “Like shit! Landon’s still out there, raping girls—girls who look like me, who are eighteen, nineteen. And I—” My throat burns. “I could’ve stopped him. Ten years ago, I could’ve—”
“Stop,” she says softly, firmly. “Listen to that language: could have. That’s guilt. You were nineteen. You were a victim.”
“If I’d screamed louder, told more people, maybe—”
“Who believed you when you did tell?” she asks.
No one. Not Cade. Not Daddy. Not the deputy. Not my friends.
“That silence wasn’t yours,” she continues. “It was theirs. They failed you. They failed the others.”
Tears blur my computer screen. “But those girls—”
“They’re not your responsibility.” She holds my gaze. “He chose them. He chose violence. You didn’t hand him that power. You survived him. That doesn’t make you guilty.”
My chest caves. “It doesn’t feel like surviving. It feels like complicity.”
“That’s trauma lying to you. Surviving is resistance. Every step you take forward is something he can’t touch.”
Since moving back, I’ve wondered what I’d do if I ran into Landon. He doesn’t live here, thank God, but he comes often. He was recently at The Barrel & Bridle—took photos, hugged constituents. I heard all about it and how freaking fabulous he is.
“He really helped me with that BLM lease.”
“He pushed my insurance claim through after the barn fire.”
“He got Jose’s sister sorted with immigration.”
He’s beloved. No wonder some people still look at me like I’m poison.
So he does his job—and rapes women in his free time. What a prince!
As if that isn’t bad enough, I also have to carry in my head and heart that stupid kiss in the greenhouse that I shared…allowed myself to share with Cade.
I touch my lips.
What the hell was I thinking? Well, you weren’t thinking, Sarah, that’s the problem.
I can still feel his breath on my wrists. I look at my scars and remember his mouth on them—gentle, apologetic.
I know Cade. He’s kind. Generous. Loving. Sexy as sin.
We learned how to kiss together. How to make love. We were each other’s firsts.
Stop it, Sarah. Stop thinking about either of the Mercer brothers.
That’s when the bell above the front door jingles.
“Anybody home?”
I wipe my hands on my jeans and step out of the treatment room where I was stocking supplies. Bodie Tiller stands in my office—rangy, sun-browned, crow’s feet deep, his hat tipped back like nothing rattles him.
“Hey, Doc.” I offer my hand. He shakes it. “Need something?”
“Can we talk a minute?”
“Sure.” I nod toward my desk.
He scans the space that used to be my father’s. He peeks into the treatment room, nods. “Place looks good. You fixed it up.”
He drops into the chair across from me.
“I updated the treatment stalls, got a new portable ultrasound and a digital X-ray that pack into my truck. Daddy had…a lot of paper charts.” I smile, thinking about the overstuffed cabinets you had to hip-check to close.
“Now everything is digital: bloodwork, radiographs, herd records. I even bought a portable chute scale.”
“Your Daddy could diagnose a cow blindfolded, but he was no friend to technology.” Bodie grins, then sobers.
“Listen. I’ve been meaning to sit with you.
It’s no secret this town didn’t roll out the welcome mat.
But I see it shifting. Mav and Aria talk you up.
Elena and Duke, too. When those names speak, folks listen. ”
I nod as I give him a measured look.
“I wasn’t here for all that mess,” he clips. “Heard about it, of course, when you moved back.”
Christ! Can we not talk about that anymore?
“Where you from, Doc?”
“Arizona. Never thought I’d leave. Then, six years ago, my daughter married and settled in Aspen.
Too crowded for me, so I landed here.” He tips back in his chair.
“Suits me fine. Your daddy and I made a good team. I respected him. And I’ll tell you straight—I want that kind of partnership with you.
Two vets splitting the work. This town needs it. ”
“Dr. Tiller, I’m happy to work with you anywhere, anytime.”
“Same.”
A lump rises in my throat. I’ve carried the weight of being an outcast for a long time, and here’s Bodie—another person opening a door.
“But,” I add with a small laugh, “not all your clients will want me to be around their animals.”
He leans in, knuckles tapping my desk. “Then they can doctor their own cattle. It’s a lot of work—you know that. I hired an assistant—”
“Gilbert?” I straighten. “He stopped by to introduce himself.”
“Godsend.” Bodie steeples his hands. “But even with him, I need a second vet. Ranch work here is growing, not shrinking. People aren’t selling out. If folks don’t want you as a vet, they can do without. They gotta know I can’t cover everyone.”
I exhale. “Okay. I’m in. I can take on more.”
He smiles. “Excellent. I’ll have Gilbert swing by with client files, and you both can work together to figure out how to split ’em.”
It will be nice not to have to drive hours to get to work like I’ve been doing. “I’d like that.”
He hesitates. “Look, Sarah. I’m not in the best shape for this job anymore.”
I nod. I know what this work asks of a body, and Bodie is in his late fifties, early sixties, if I had to take a guess.
“And it’s not easy to hire a vet to live here…at the far edge of nowhere.”
“The Central Valley has steadier work,” I agree.
“I’m thinkin’ of retiring in a couple of years. Someone will need to take over.”
What?
His phone rings. He frowns and answers. “Tiller.” A pause.
He straightens. “Yeah, Cade. I was just there…what two days ago?” He listens, shaking his head.
“Hold on.” He cups the phone and looks at me.
“It’s Cade. His bulls are not lookin’ good, including that new Angus.
I’m gonna need you there. Gilbert’s out of town. ”
My pulse jumps. Thunder. Cade paid a fortune for him.
“And you need to meet more of my clients,” Bodie adds.
“Of course.” I cross to the cabinet, grab my kit, and double-check the supplies, even though I always restock. It’s a habit.
Bodie nods at me in appreciation when he sees me sling my bag over my shoulder. “I’ll come out now—but I’m bringing Dr. Kirk.” He listens. My throat goes dry. I picture Cade saying he doesn’t want me on his ranch. “Excellent,” Bodie says, amused. “Good to see you growin’ up, son.”
What does that mean?
He pockets the phone and meets my eyes. “You ready?”
“Always.”