Chapter 17
Seventeen
Tessa
The morning sky hung low and pale, the light that made every window on Main Street glow. Trucks rolled past the four-way stop with that familiar small-town patience, tires whispering over pavement that had seen more gossip than traffic.
I drove in with both hands on the wheel and my shoulders tight, even though I knew this road like the back of my hand. Nothing much here changed, and I hadn’t realized that over the last week I’d been here, because I hadn’t left the ranch since Monday.
At the corner by the hardware store, two men leaned on a stack of feed bags, coffee cups in their hands. One lifted his chin as I passed, recognition sharpening his expression.
I pulled my truck into a spot in front of the clinic and forced my voice to sound normal.
“That you, Tessa?” A man called from the hardware store.
“Morning, Dale.” Dale MacIntosh had been a fixture in this town since I was a child. And he was still sitting in the same place as always, whittling a piece of wood.
He smiled like he’d won something. “Are you back for good?” The question wasn’t casual. None of them were casual.
“For now,” I said with a shrug, since I didn’t really know what was happening with my life.
Dale nodded like that meant he could stop wondering. “Good. Town’s been missing you.”
“Town should get a hobby,” I muttered under my breath and headed for the clinic door.
The white siding and big front windows, a little too clean for a building that saw blood and fear and fur on a daily basis, but it was the semblance of normal I was craving.
The bell rang above the door, and it took me back to my summer job working for Brooke’s dad; he’d be barking orders and trying to fill his day with anything but yappy dogs and cats.
“About time,” Brooke called from the back.
I shut the door behind me. “I’m ten minutes early.”
“Yeah, but it’s late for you,” she yelled back. “I was expecting you here twenty minutes ago.”
I smiled despite myself and walked toward the counter. That’s one thing that hadn’t changed: I was never late.
Brooke appeared from the hallway with a clipboard in one hand and a stethoscope slung loose around her neck. She had her hair twisted up, a pencil jammed through it like she’d done a hundred times. She looked the same, which in River’s Edge counted as a miracle.
She stopped in front of me and didn’t say anything for a second. Her eyes moved over my face, my shoulders, the way I was holding myself like my bones might crack if I relaxed.
“Are you ready for this? You don’t have to start yet,” she said, her eyes narrowing like she was trying to read my mind.
“I’m fine, and yes, I do need to start today. Sitting on the ranch isn’t going to get the bills paid.” Suddenly, the thought dawned on me that if Ray owed so many people money, there was a good chance he owed Brooke, too.
She stepped in and hugged me, quick and firm, her arms strong around my shoulders. She didn’t do the soft friend hug; it was the kind to let you know she wasn’t going to let you float away.
“He didn’t owe me anything,” she whispered before letting me go. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve missed you.”
“Same,” I managed.
“Good,” she replied briskly, like she’d heard enough sentiment for one decade. She shoved the clipboard at me. “Mrs. Calder’s the first appointment of the day. I have to get her done first, or she ruins everything I have planned. We’ll put her in exam two.
Mrs. Calder sat on the bench in the waiting room, her spaniel Rosie panting on her lap like the world was ending.
“Mrs. Calder, let’s get Rosie looked at,” I said, and the older woman looked up and gave a slight frown. Rosie’s tail thumped the bench when I approached, then she immediately tried to crawl into my arms.
“Hi, Rosie,” I murmured, scratching behind her ears.
Mrs. Calder leaned forward, eyes shining. “Look at you. Back working. Back in town, how are you, dear?”
“I’m good,” I said, snapping on gloves. Mrs. Calder patted my wrist anyway, like she didn’t believe me and didn’t want to embarrass me by saying so out loud.
“Your Uncle Ray always spoke so highly of you,” she said.
My throat tightened. “Let’s get Rosie’s booster done.”
Brooke tossed me a look that said, “ thank you for steering,” and we moved through the appointment. Rosie yelped like she’d been stabbed, then immediately tried to lick my face as if apologizing for the noise.
When Mrs. Calder left, the bell chimed again, and the waiting room filled with a new set of voices. I heard my name in a murmur. Not loud. Not secret, either.
“Tessa Callahan’s back.”
“Brooke hired her.”
“Good for her.”
Good for her always sounded like a backhanded compliment.
Brooke shoved a new chart into my hand. “Next. Shepherd with a limp and an owner who’s convinced it’s cancer.”
The owner was a man in his fifties with weathered hands and a cap pulled low. He didn’t look at me at first. He watched Brooke like she was the only one who mattered, then his eyes flicked toward me and sharpened in recognition.
“You’re Ray’s niece,” he said.
I kept my face still. “Yes.”
He looked immediately regretful. “Sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” I said, because again, that was the line.
He shifted on his boots, clearing his throat. “Town’s been wondering what you’ll do next.”
Brooke’s pen paused over the chart. She didn’t look up. “The town should mind its business.”
He chuckled awkwardly. “That’d be a first.”
As we examined the dog, he kept sneaking glances at me, like I was an exhibit at a museum. When I knelt to palpate the shepherd’s leg, the dog leaned into me, trustful and heavy. I liked animals for that. They didn’t ask for explanations. They just decided whether you were safe.
Brooke leaned close to my ear while the man talked about feed and fences. “You okay?” she murmured.
“I’m working,” I whispered back.
“That’s not an answer,” Brooke said, but she didn’t push further.
By midmorning, I’d already done more nails, vaccines, and restraining holds than I could count. The clinic felt like a world with rules that made sense. Injuries had causes. Symptoms had solutions. You did what you could. You didn’t negotiate with the universe.
The bell chimed again, and I looked up automatically. For a second, my breath stopped. Across the street through the clinic window, a large, dark SUV was parked near the café. The glass reflected sky and movement, making it hard to see, but I felt eyes on me anyway.
Brooke noticed my freeze. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” I said too fast.
Brooke turned and followed my gaze. Her posture shifted, subtle but immediate. Shoulders squaring. Jaw tightening.
“Do you know that vehicle?” “It just looks out of place here.”
Brooke’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe.”
The bell chimed again as a patient entered, and when I looked back out the window a minute later, the SUV was gone.
Brooke watched me for a beat. “You want to tell me what’s going on.”
“It’s nothing, really.”
Brooke’s expression didn’t soften. “You’re a terrible liar, Tessa.”
“I’m going to get coffee, do you want anything?” I asked, grabbing my purse.
The café was warm and loud in that contained way small towns get, where everyone knew each other’s names yet still talked like strangers might be listening.
The barista, Jenna, spotted me immediately. “Tessa,” she called.
I moved toward the counter. “Hi, Jenna.”
“Brooke finally got some help,” she said, already reaching for a cup.
“Yeah.”
Jenna slid the coffee across. “On the house. First day back deserves it.”
“Thank you,” I said.
Her smile faltered just a little, like she was deciding whether to speak. Her fingers tapped the counter once.
“Hey,” she said. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” I replied, and my chest tightened anyway.
Jenna lowered her voice slightly, not enough to be secret but enough to feel personal. “Your boyfriend was in earlier.”
The word boyfriend hit like a slap.
“My what?”
“Boyfriend,” she repeated, eyebrows lifting. “Tall guy. Dark hair. Really polite. Asked where you’d be today.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” I said, each word clipped.
Jenna’s cheeks flushed. “Oh. Sorry, he just seemed concerned.”
“Concerned,” I echoed, and it came out sharp.
Jenna lifted her hands. “Not like, bad. Just like he was checking in.”
“When,” I asked, my pulse instantly racing.
“Half an hour ago,” she said. “Maybe a bit more. He sat right there by the window.” She pointed. “Watched the street. Then left.”
“Did he say his name?” I asked.
Jenna shook her head. “No. Just smiled. Paid cash. Left a bigger tip than necessary.”
My stomach turned over, cold.
“Did he ask anyone else about me?” I said.
Jenna’s eyes widened. “Tessa…”
“Did he,” I pressed.
Jenna nodded slowly. “He asked Kyle at the hardware store if he’d seen you. Kyle said you’d be at the clinic. That’s how I knew. I thought… I thought he was with you.”
River’s Edge did what it always did. It filled in blanks. It assumed. It connected dots. It offered information like it was kindness.
My phone buzzed in my pocket before I could say anything else. I didn’t need to look to know.
Colin: Hope the first day’s going well. Enjoy the coffee. I started a tab for you.
My skin prickled. I glanced up, scanning the café windows, the street outside, the reflections. People moved. A truck rolled by. A woman carried a bag of flour. Nothing obvious. Nothing provable.
Jenna watched my face. “Is everything okay?”
I slid the phone back into my pocket and forced my mouth into something resembling calm. “Yeah.”
Jenna didn’t believe me. She leaned forward, voice lower now. “Do you want me to call anyone? Wyatt?”
“No,” I said too quickly.
Jenna’s brows pinched. “Tessa, if someone’s bothering you.”
“It’s nothing,” I lied.
I picked up my coffee. My fingers shook just enough that the liquid rippled.
“Tell Kyle,” I said, and my voice came out rougher than I wanted.
Jenna blinked. “Tell him what?”
“If anyone asks about me,” I said, “tell him to stop answering.” My voice was flat, and I hoped it got my point across.