Undone (The Woodstone Falls #2)

1. Dorian - September

ONE

Dorian - September

TAKE ME HOME, COUNTRY ROADS - LANA DEL REY

Life in Woodstone Falls was in its full swing, a blur of activity; taking care of Gracie, family dinners, running the clinic and caring for all kinds of animals.

Cows, sheep, dogs, cats—I’d even treated a damn chinchilla recently.

And today was no different. My calloused hands gripped the leather steering wheel as the truck rumbled over the familiar back roads. The tires hummed against the asphalt as I steered toward the farm right outside of town.

One of the mares was having trouble with her leg, and the owners called in a panic, knowing I’d be going to Seattle in the morning for a veterinary networking conference. I made sure to let all my clients know, posted it on the clinic door a month ago, and gave everyone the contact information for the closest emergency vet.

But Mary Whitmore called me earlier, asking if there was any way I could run out before leaving town, and I agreed. I’d been out to their place more times than I could count, usually for routine checkups.

Being the only vet in town meant that life never slowed down as much as I might have wanted, but the busyness of it all kept me grounded.

Despite the demands of my job, I always made time for Gracie and my family. It was something my dad instilled in me from an early age, and that lesson stuck with me as I became a father. It’s why I couldn’t imagine leaving Woodstone Falls, even for a better-paying job in the city. As much as I’d been tempted, the pull of family and familiarity always won out.

Gracie was surrounded by her barrage of uncles, her aunt, my dad, and others who weren’t related by blood but were just as willing to step up for her as needed.

I forced my grip to loosen as I pulled up to the farm, dust kicking up behind my tires. As soon as I stepped out of the truck, Ed and Mary Whitmore rushed toward me, their faces lined with worry.

“Dr. James, she’s limping pretty badly.” His shoulders tensed as he cleared his throat. “We don’t know what happened. She was fine yesterday, but this morning…”

His words faltered as he looked to me for reassurance. I nodded once, keeping calm for their sake. Ed and Mary weren’t just any clients—they owned The Pine Ridge Lodge, one of the oldest and most beloved spots in Woodstone Falls.

Growing up, it was where my family celebrated everything from birthdays to graduations. The crackling fireplace, hearty meals, and stories shared over dinner made the place feel like home, and the Whitmores were always at the center of that.

“Show me,” I said.

They led me toward the pasture, walking into the open field. The grass was thick, gently swaying with the breeze. A few chickens clucked nearby, scratching at the dirt by the coop, while a dog lay sprawled lazily by the barn, its coat a stark white against the deep green of the grass.

Up ahead, the mare stood by the fence, her chestnut coat gleaming. She lifted her head as I approached, ears flicking toward me with a soft snort, but she kept her weight off her back left leg, the limp subtle but there. I moved closer and watched her eyes carefully.

Mary wrung her hands nervously. “Do you think it’s serious?”

I crouched down to examine the leg, running my hands along the tendons, trying to get an idea of what I was working with.

“Could be a sprain. Might be more. Need to take a closer look.” I kept my tone even, not feeding into their panic, but not offering false comfort either.

Ed exhaled sharply. “We’ll do whatever it takes. She’s our best mare.”

I glanced up at them. “We’ll get her sorted.” I straightened up and gave the mare a gentle pat.

“Let’s get her back to the barn. I’ll check her out.” Without another word, I motioned for them to lead the horse inside.

They nodded, moving swiftly, as I grabbed my kit from the truck. The whole time, I stayed focused on the task at hand, keeping my words short.

I wasn’t known as the small talk kind of guy around town. I was to the point. I wanted to get in, do the job, and get out, everyone the happier.

I followed Ed and Mary into the barn, the familiar scent of hay and horses filling the air. The mare’s limp was more pronounced on the hard-packed dirt of the barn floor. I didn’t say anything as I watched her, already running through the possibilities in my head.

Once we tied her up, I crouched down again, carefully lifting her leg. She shifted, and I kept a firm grip, murmuring under my breath to keep her calm.

“Easy,” I said.

Mary stood off to the side, frantically lacing her fingers as Ed hovered behind me.

My focus was on the mare. As I examined the leg closely, I checked for swelling along the tendons and joints. It wasn’t great, but I’d seen much worse.

“Looks like a sprain,” I said, keeping my tone neutral, letting the words land with little emphasis. “Nothing too serious, but she’s going to need rest. No riding for a while. I’ll wrap it and give you something for the inflammation. It’s straightforward—no need for an X-ray.”

Mary sighed in relief, and Ed nodded, his tension easing. “We can manage that. How long until she’s back to normal?”

“Depends on how she heals,” I replied, reaching over to grab a roll of bandages. “A couple weeks at least, maybe more. I’ll stop by when I’m back next week to check her progress.”

Ed opened his mouth, ready to ask more, but he closed it again and nodded instead. “We appreciate it. I know you’d probably rather be with Gracie before you leave town, so… thank you.”

I glanced to him, giving him a curt nod.

I wrapped the mare’s leg with firm, steady hands, careful not to meet their gazes for too long. The less talking, the better. They didn’t need me to soothe them with words—they needed action.

Results.

That’s what I was good at.

Once the wrap was secure, I took a step back, my fingers tracing the edges of the bandage to make sure it held. I wiped my hands on my worn jeans, the grit of dirt rough against my palms. My gaze flicked to the mare one last time as she shifted cautiously on her injured leg.

“She’ll be fine as long as you follow the plan. Call me if anything changes.”

Ed gave me a grateful nod, glancing over at his wife. “We will.”

I grabbed my supplies and turned to leave, giving the mare one last pat on the neck. “I’ll see myself out.”

Mary called out as I walked toward the barn door, “Thank you. Really.”

I lifted a hand in acknowledgment but didn’t look back. There was no need for more conversation.

The heavy door creaked as I pushed it open, stepping out into the fading late afternoon light. As I made my way back to the truck, the exhaustion of the day settled in. I tossed my kit onto the passenger seat and climbed into the driver’s side.

I turned the key in the ignition and pulled away, the ranch fading behind me as the sun cast long shadows across the fields. My mind wandered back to Gracie as the road stretched out in front of me. No matter how long the day was, how many calls I made, it always circled back to her.

I always couldn’t wait to get home.

My mood lifted the moment I turned down the driveway and saw her little pink bike propped against the porch steps.

I parked in the driveway and killed the engine.

Stepping inside, I found Gracie in the corner, hunched over a coloring book, her tongue poking out in concentration. Markers were scattered in all directions, her strokes fast and messy, completely absorbed in her world.

My dad sat with his reading glasses resting low on his nose, and his ever-present mustache twitching. Gracie glanced up first, her eyes lighting up the second she saw me.

“Daddy!” she squealed, jumping to her feet and running toward me.

I barely had time to drop my kit before she barreled into me, wrapping her small arms around my waist. The force of it almost knocked me off balance as my hands came down to ruffle her hair. The wild, wavy strands tangled in my fingers.

She always reminded me of the photos of my mom when she was young—the same golden waves, bright and untamed. My own dark hair was a stark contrast to theirs, as if they belonged to a world filled with light that I couldn’t quite touch.

“Hey, G,” I murmured.

I set her down and crouched to her level. Her face was smudged with marker, a few freckles dotted across her nose.

“Were you good for Papa?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Yep! We had pizza, and Grandpa let me have two sodas!” She held up two fingers, her grin showing the gap where her front teeth were missing.

My dad shrugged from his chair, a half smirk on his face. “Don’t look at me. She talked me into it.”

“You know she’s six, right?” I muttered, shaking my head, though I couldn’t help but smile. “Last I checked, I left you in charge.”

“She can be convincing. She’s got your mother in her like that,” he chuckled.

It had been two decades since my mother passed—long enough for the details to blur. I was just a boy, and as time went on, my memories splintered into fragments. I couldn’t piece together a single moment clearly, but damn, I never forgot how much she loved us. I shot my dad a quick smile, noticing the same wave of nostalgia washing over his face.

“Two sodas, huh? You’re not gonna sleep for a week,” I said, nudging her gently in the ribs.

Gracie giggled again, and I couldn’t help but pull her into a hug, breathing in the scent of bubblegum shampoo and scented markers.

There was something about being home with her that made everything seem right in the world.

“I made you something!” She wriggled free from my grip and rushed back to the pile of papers on the floor.

“See, look! It’s a horse, like the ones you fix!” She held up a drawing, the horse’s legs a tad short and its mane a rainbow of colors. It wasn’t exactly anatomically correct, but it was very impressive for a six-year-old.

“It’s perfect,” I said. “You’re getting good at this.” Her smile grew.

“Can we put it on the fridge?”

“Of course. Where else would it go?” I stood, taking the drawing and heading to the kitchen, where I stuck it to the fridge with a magnet shaped like a cow.

I turned back right in time to see her racing to grab another stack of markers.

“Daddy, can we do one together? I’ll draw the horse, and you can draw the barn!”

I glanced at the clock. It was getting late, and she was wired from all the sugar, but I found myself nodding anyway.

“Alright. One picture, then you’re off to bed.”

Gracie cheered, scrambling to get everything set up.

My dad pushed himself up from the chair and crossed the room. “She’s got you wrapped around her finger.”

“Yeah.” I glanced at her with a smile, shrugging without even bothering to hide it.

I’m pretty sure the day Gracie was born, my heart grew three sizes. As much as I tried to keep my life compartmentalized, to hold back parts of myself from the rest of the world, with her, I was completely open. Not many people could do that, but there were a few who managed to sneak in and leave their mark.

“Definitely wrapped around her finger.” My dad chuckled. “I’m heading out. I’ll see you both later.”

“Thanks, Dad,” I said. “Appreciate your help.”

Gracie scrambled to her feet and ran over to him. “Night, Papa!” she called, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug before scampering off.

He gave me a nod and slipped out the door. I sat down on the floor next to her, legs crossed and picked up a marker.

As we drew, she chatted away about her day—her friends, some new game she’d learned.

I listened, mostly content to hear her little voice fill the house. I wanted to imprint it to my memory and lock it away before she became sick of me in a few years.

She might have been growing up too fast, but those little moments slowed everything down and gave me something solid to hold on to.

Eventually, her marker strokes grew lazier. Her eyelids drooped as she let out a big yawn, even though she tried to fight it.

“Daddy, do you think… do you think I’ll be as good at drawing as you are at fixing animals one day?”

I smiled, leaning over to tuck a loose curl behind her ear. “You’ll be even better.”

She nodded sleepily, leaning against me. “Okay,” she whispered.

I scooped her up in one smooth motion, cradling her against me as she tucked her head into my neck. She was out in seconds, her little arms draped around my shoulders.

Carrying her up to bed, a familiar pang tugged at my chest. After tucking her in and brushing a kiss on her forehead, I stood in the doorway for a minute, watching her sleep. My heart squeezed with the deep, protective instinct that always rose when I was with her.

Heading downstairs, I picked up the scattered markers and papers, pausing for a moment as I glanced at the drawing she made of the horse. I smiled to myself, then turned off the lights and settled into the quiet.

By the time I set off for Seattle, the sky was a dull, gloomy gray, though the rain held off. I’d decided to drive this time instead of flying. Flying would’ve been quicker, sure, but driving gave me more freedom—an easy way to make my own schedule. And, with the insane hotel prices in Seattle, especially with all the conferences and events going on, Dotty’s offer to crash at her apartment made sense.

At first, I didn’t think much of it when I accepted, but then Dotty casually mentioned her roommate, and I realized I hadn’t even considered that detail.

A weekend with a stranger in the same space wasn’t exactly ideal, but it wasn’t the end of the world either.

I’d heard bits about Noah over the years. Dotty always spoke highly of her—how easy she was to be around, and how she threw herself into teaching.

So, one weekend with a stranger who, from what I’d heard, seemed like a decent enough person would be fine. Besides, I was here for a reason—work, business, nothing more. I could handle the small discomfort of shared space.

I’d keep my head down, do what I came to do, and get out without causing any waves.

It’d be fine.