Chapter 22
sarah
Idrive the twenty minutes to the county hospital like my hair’s on fire. As a vet, one would think I was okay with hospitals. Absolutely not.
I’ve spent time in the emergency room. I’ve also spent time in the psych ward after the ER doctor sewed me up.
I fucking hate them.
Everything’s so clean, so white, so sterile. The bleach-and-lemon smell stings my eyes, like they’re trying to scrub life’s mess off the walls. It just drags me back to the time I was so weak I didn’t want to live.
And yet, when I received a call from Gilbert, telling me that Bodie had broken his leg, and he needed me to be on call for all of Bodie’s clients, I drove straight to him.
The county hospital is twenty minutes from Wildflower Canyon, the closest place equipped to set a leg right.
It’s a small squat brick building serving three small towns—but compared to Wildflower Canyon’s clinic, it’s huge.
Fluorescent lights buzz inside, ambulances idle out front, and the smell of asphalt and disinfectant mixes in the evening air.
Ugh!
A nurse takes me to the room where Bodie is.
He’s propped up in bed, his leg wrapped in plaster and elevated on a stack of pillows. Even pale as chalk, he still manages a lopsided grin, as if to say, Don’t fuss over me, when he sees me.
“Damn horse got the better of me,” he rasps. “Gilbert cinched too quick. Should’ve warned him. The horse spooked. I took the kick square. Leg snapped like a twig.”
I step closer, fingers twitching to check the cast even though the doctors already did. “How bad is it?”
He shifts slightly, wincing as the movement jars him. “Clean break. Docs say I’ll be hobbling around in no time. Maggie…that’s my daughter, she’s not buying it, though.”
On cue, his daughter sweeps back into the room, a paper cup of coffee in one hand, her phone in the other. She’s a smaller, sharper version of him, her worry disguised as impatience.
“Hi, I’m Sarah Kirk.” I offer my hand, and she clasps it without hesitation.
“I’m so glad to meet you. Dad can’t stop singing your praises; says you’re the best vet he’s ever worked with.”
I flush at the compliment.
“Which is a good thing,” she continues. “‘Cause Dad is not limping anywhere for weeks.” She sets the coffee down, fluffs his pillow, then smooths the blanket over him like he’s eighty instead of just stubborn.
“Ah, come on, Maggie, it’s—"
“And,” she continues, determined, “you’re sure as hell aren’t going back to a barn for a long while.”
“See what I put up with?” Bodie whines, but his eyes soften as he watches his daughter. I feel a pang, remembering when my father used to look at me like that, with love and affection.
“She’s right,” I say gently. “You’ve got to heal. Let her take care of you.”
Maggie shoots me a grateful look, then aims a glare back at her father. “I’m taking you back to Aspen. You’ll be where I can keep an eye on you.”
I chuckle at the annoyed sounds Bodie makes. “Sounds like a plan.”
Without Bodie, I’ll be the only vet in Wildflower Canyon. I thought I had time until he retired, but now it looks like we’ll be able to do a dry run of that debacle in advance.
Good times!
Maggie’s phone buzzes, and she slips out into the hall to take the call.
Bodie stretches his hand toward me, and I clasp it firm. We haven’t known each other long, but there’s a camaraderie between us—born of professional respect. And honestly, once you’ve shoved your whole arm inside a cow’s vagina alongside someone, it forges a bond that doesn’t need years to grow.
“Dr. K,” he murmurs. “Wildflower Canyon can’t go without a vet. You’ve got the skills and the heart. You step up while I’m gone. No arguing.”
Like I have a choice. But….
“Bodie”—my throat goes tight, making it hard for me to squeeze the words out—“this town barely tolerates me.”
“They’ll learn…or not; it’s on them.” His gaze holds mine, fierce even with pain lines carved deep into his face. “Animals trust you. You keep showing up, the smart ones will follow. You’re ready, Sarah. You hear me?”
I nod because it’s all I can manage. It’s almost like Dad is telling me I’m ready to be the vet I know I can be.
Maggie returns then, bustling in with a nurse, already arranging transportation.
Bodie leans back against the pillow, letting them fuss.
I step out into the parking lot after helping Maggie settle Bodie inside for his overnight stay. I tell him I’ll come back in the morning to check on him and make sure the doctors are fine with him driving back with Maggie.
The sky is bruise-purple now, streaked with fire as the sun bleeds down behind the mountains. My bones ache from the day, but my mind won’t still. I almost don’t notice the truck pulling in until its tires rasp over the asphalt.
It’s Cade. Just my luck!
He climbs out slow, broad shoulders caught in the last light, his hat shadowing his eyes. I brace myself, ready for the sting of his words. But when he comes close, his regard doesn’t hold fire.
“I heard about Bodie, came to check on him,” he explains.
“They gave him somethin’ for the pain, and he’s out,” I tell him. “His daughter is with him.”
“Maggie’s good people.”
“Yeah.”
“You, okay?”
I frown. “I’m not the one who broke their leg. I’m better than okay.”
“Yes, you are.”
His blue eyes hold me to him.
“Dove, when you look at me like that, I forget my own name. All I know is the shape of your body, the heat of your skin, and I have a desperate need to make you cry out my name so I can remember it.”
The silence stretches, thick as molasses in the cooling air. And then—like gravity wins—he steps closer.
His hand brushes mine. Calluses scrape my skin, and my breath stutters.
For ten years, I’ve told myself I don’t want this, don’t need this. But when his mouth finds mine, it’s like a dam breaking.
“I told myself I’d keep my distance.” His lips are soft against mine. “But then I see you, and suddenly the only thing I can measure is how fast I want to close the space between us.”
Unlike last time, the kiss isn’t gentle. It’s raw. Hungry. Desperate. It’s a kiss that says we lost a decade, and we never stopped wanting each other. My fingers twist into his shirt, pulling him closer, like it’s muscle memory.
When we finally tear apart, I press my forehead to his heart, lungs heaving. “I can’t,” I whisper. “I won’t be the other woman.”
“You’re not.” His arm tightens at my waist.
“You and Noelle,” I breathe.
“We broke up.”
I look up and search his face. “Why?”
His jaw ticks. “Because I can’t be with another woman.” The words come out hard, bitten off, with venom-laced at the edges. He exhales long and slow, cups my cheek with a hand roughened by rope and rein. “I’m sorry. I just—dammit, Sarah, I need to let the past rest.”
My throat burns. I believe him. I really do. But for me, the past is carved into me like a brand, and no kiss—not even his—can burn it away.
I step away from him. “You hate me, remember?”
His eyes go moist, soft, broken. “I try to remind myself, Dove, but….” He trails off like he doesn’t have enough words.
“Stop calling me Dove.”
I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to hate him.
“But that’s who you are to me.” The words seem as if they’re torn out of him. “Loving you wasn’t something I did; it was who I was. You were woven into every heartbeat, every breath, every quiet thought.”
“Love?” I shake my head, feeling a weary despair that I know is going to take me under. “I don’t think you know what it means, Cade. You didn’t love me. If you did, you wouldn’t have….”
I rub my hand over my face to clear it of his smell.
“Wouldn’t have what, Sarah?” he asks, his voice bitter. “I love my brother, too.”
I scoff at that. “You’re confusing loyalty with love. You’re confusing lust with love. Neither is the same thing.”
“What did you want me to do, Sarah?” He throws his hands up in the air. “He’s my brother.”
“And he’s a rapist.” The words feel like acid on my tongue.
He flinches.
“A. Rapist,” I repeat slowly, enunciating the word. “And you know what that makes you?” I point a finger at him. “It makes you one, too. Because what he did was a violation. What you did…what my father did… was betrayal. It was worse than the rape.”
Shock registers on his face. “Sarah—”
“Stay away from me,” I cry out hoarsely. “You’re not good for me. And don’t touch me again. You have no right to do that. Not when you look at me with suspicion and doubt.”
That night, I called Marnie Evans while I sat on my porch, huddled in a jacket, the endless sky in front of me.
She answers on the second ring. “Sarah.”
“Tell me,” I whisper. “Tell me everything you can.”
I hear her breathe raggedly over the line. “I…talked to your father. It was a few months ago.”
A laugh escapes me. “And that’s why he left me everything. He finally believed me because you told him there were others.”
“I’d heard that there had been a case of a woman making a complaint that had …disappeared. I didn’t know it was you for a long while. Then a source informed me that Sam might know. So, I called him.”
The pieces of the puzzle fall into place.
“He was pretty torn up about not having believed you.”
“Fat lot of good it did me.”
“That’s what I told him.”
That makes me feel better. That someone had been on my side when my own people hadn’t.
“So, Landon has a type. Brunettes with…?”
“High cheekbones. Like yours.” She doesn’t flinch as she says it. “He leans toward green eyes, but in a pinch, he’ll make do. Predators aren’t picky when they’re feeding the compulsion.”
“Make do?” My voice rasps out.
She gives a humorless chuckle. “I know how it sounds. But it’s true. I spoke with a profiler—he thinks if you were the first, that’s when Landon crossed a line. Developed the need to dominate, to force. After that….” She exhales slowly. “He keeps chasing the same high.”
“He’s a serial rapist.” I’ve seen my share of Law & Order and Criminal Minds. I know some of the lingo.
“Yes.”
“Are there people who help cover up for him?”
“Yes. Lawyers obviously who handle the NDAs and give women money to stay quiet.”
Bile rises hot in my throat. And all I can think is that Cade defends him. He protects him, too.
Rage floods through me, bitter as whiskey gone bad. I can’t respect a man who’d defend a monster, no matter how sweet his daughter or how good his kisses.
“The statute of limitations in my case is long past.”
“Yes, but not for the women he’s hurt recently.”
And those he will continue to assault.
“How would we do this?”
“We would meet. Talk. I will record our conversation. And…put together all the information I have and write an article. I promise you once that releases, only someone complicit in Landon’s behavior won’t believe you.”
Her confidence makes me feel better.
“Where would we meet?”
“I can come to you.”
“No. How about I come down to DC?”
“I’m based out of New York.”
That would work. A big city. Easy to be anonymous.
“Okay. When?”
“Whenever you’re ready.”
“Let me think about it and get back to you.”
“Thanks for calling me, Sarah.”
“Thanks for talking to me, Marnie.”
After the call, I stare into the dark sky, spotted with a plethora of stars.
I will tell Marnie my story, I decide, and she’ll tell the world.
I want justice and this may be the only way to get it.