“Don’t make things harder than they have to be.” His grandfather had been saying that since he was a kid.
“I’m not making them hard. Things are complicated right now. I’ve barely seen her these last few days.”
“And you miss her. Tell her that. She’ll like it. Send her some flowers. Better yet, pick her some and take them to her. Tell her in person how you feel.”
“She knows I like being with her. She even called me her boyfriend.”
When she called him her boyfriend, he had to admit his heart leaped in his chest. He’d liked the idea that she belonged to him and he belonged to her. He liked the connection they shared, the way she made him feel, and the way she’d gotten him out of his tired routine. He really did look forward to seeing her smiling face when he came in from work.
And she wasn’t here today and the disappointment still lingered in his mind and heart.
Damn, he really did like her, but did he love her?
Maybe. When he saw that guy with a gun to her head, his heart stopped. The thought of her dead . . . The rest of his lonely life spread out ahead of him; it seemed so bleak.
He should do more to show her how much he wanted to be with her. He didn’t really know what to do. No one would say he was a romantic. A job needed doing, he got it done. He wished he knew what to do to win Sadie’s heart and affection.
“I don’t know why she’s not here. Maybe something happened with her father. I’m heading over to her place to find out.” He had to go and see for himself, because staying here another minute would only mean an evening spent worrying, which would drive him crazier than he felt right now.
Rory went back through the kitchen and into the laundry room to stuff his feet back in his boots. Ready to leave, he held the door handle, but stopped at his grandfather’s words.
“It’s okay to love her, Rory. She won’t leave you like your parents did.”
This certainly had nothing to do with his parents. He didn’t think she’d leave him. Certainly not without cause. But did he give her enough reason to stay? He feared he’d held back too much of himself from Sadie.
His mind spun. He didn’t share his thoughts or feelings with his grandfather. He didn’t share them with anyone most of the time.
“That’s not what this is about,” he denied, hoping his grandfather would drop all this so he could figure out what to do about Sadie on his own.
“Isn’t it? Isn’t that the reason you hold on to Ford and Colt and me and this ranch so tight? Isn’t that the reason you’ve never let anyone close to you, because you’re afraid they’ll leave?”
Rory walked out and closed the door between him and his grandfather. He closed the door on the conversation. Rory wasn’t afraid of being left alone. But the thought of his future on this ranch without a wife and children made his future seem empty and lonely.
If he missed Sadie the way he did now, what would it be like if she was there every day, in his bed, in his life? He didn’t want to think of having all that happiness and the possibility he could lose it if she left him. But, he realized now he’d risk the hurt to have at least a little bit of happiness—for however long it lasted.
Rory pulled up in front of Sadie’s house and slammed on the brakes. A sense of dread washed through his system, knotting his gut at the sight of the front door left wide open. Sadie’s truck wasn’t here. Where was she? The possible answers to that question rolled through his mind and unsettled him even more.
He jumped out of the truck and scanned the surrounding yard, paying particular attention to the open barn doors. Nothing moved in the dark interior. No sound that someone lurked nearby. Nothing but the empty yard and whispering wind.
He rushed to the house and leaped the porch steps. The quiet disturbed him, but the trail of blood leading back into the house stopped his heart, constricted his chest, and made it impossible to breathe.
He sidestepped the drops of blood and smeared drag marks and followed the trail back to Mr. Higgins’s room. He stood in the doorway, his mind rebelling against the bloody scene in front of him. The bedcovers draped over the side of the bed and pooled on the floor. A smashed lamp lay on its side, the dented shade tilted, the bright bulb a blinding light, highlighting the blood splattered on the floor and walls. The right side of the night table beside the bed had been jarred and shoved into the wall, leaving a hole where the corner went through the sheetrock. A bloody shirt lay balled and crumpled on the mattress, like someone had used it as a compress against a terrible wound.
“What the fuck?”
Lost in his dark thoughts, Rory hadn’t heard anyone come in. He spun toward the shocked voice and spotted the last person he expected to see. He reacted without thinking. Rory grabbed Connor and shoved him back through the bedroom door and slammed him into the hallway wall. Pictures of him and Sadie growing up through the years rattled against the wall along with Connor’s bones. Rory held him off the ground, his forearm pressed to Connor’s throat. The nasty gash across his cheek had scabbed over, but the angry red splotch along the edges indicated it had become infected. Rory didn’t care about that; he only wanted to know one thing. “Where is she?”
Connor gasped and tried to speak, but Rory had cut off his air. Rory adjusted his arm across Connor’s collarbones, but didn’t let him go.
“Tell me where she is.” The dead calm in his voice didn’t reveal the chaos of fear and desperation eating away at Rory’s insides.
“I don’t know.”
“If you hurt her, if that asshole you call a friend laid one finger on her, I swear to God . . .”
“I didn’t. He’s not here. Swear. I came back to tell her I’m sorry about . . . about everything.”
“You’re sorry,” Rory roared. “Do you have any idea what you’ve put your sister through?”
“I . . . I never meant for any of this to happen.”
“And yet you did let it happen. You let that bastard string her up with barbed wire in a tree and slice her up with a knife.” Rory ignored the shame and regret in Connor’s eyes. He didn’t believe it. At least not enough to think Connor had any intention of making things right and making better choices in his life. “You let that asshole convince you that making and dealing drugs is a great way to earn a living. You stole my fucking cattle.”
“You don’t understand . . .”
“Save your excuses for your sister. She’s the only one who will listen to that shit, because she still believes that you will eventually do the right thing. I know better. You only look out for yourself.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it? Aren’t you really here to convince her to get me to forget about the cattle you’ve stolen?”
Connor’s eyes went wide with surprise that he’d guessed right.
“You think just because I’m with your sister I’m going to let you get away with anything. No way in hell, not after what you let happen to her.”
“I didn’t do it.”
“That’s not fucking good enough. You left her there. You didn’t do a damn thing to save her. Did you even think to call anyone to go and find her? Did you wonder at all what happened to her?”
“I—”
“Shut the fuck up.” Rory saw it in his eyes. He’d left her there, so focused on saving his own ass, he hadn’t thought to do anything to save his sister. The drugs had stolen all his empathy and compassion for others, until all he thought about was himself and his next fix. Probably in the exact opposite order. “What you’ve done is unforgivable and it’s time you paid.”
Rory pulled out his phone, but before he called the cops, it rang.
Bell’s picture popped up on his screen and Rory closed his eyes for a moment, bracing for the worst.
“Bell, please tell me Sadie is okay.”
“She’s fine.”
“You swear.”
“Yes, Rory, she wasn’t hurt.”
Rory forgot himself, leaned back, and exhaled. Connor took advan
tage and shoved him back. Rory stumbled, but made a grab for Connor. He dodged and evaded, running down the hall and out the door. Frustrated, pissed, too worried about Sadie to care what happened to Connor, he let the punk go.
“What happened? Where is she?”
“Her father fell and hit his head. He’s got major head trauma and lost quite a bit of blood.”
Rory glanced back at the bloody room and shook off the dread he’d carried, thinking someone died in that room.
“I stabilized him, but had to send him to the hospital in Bozeman. He and Sadie left in the ambulance a few minutes ago.”
“I tried to call her, but got her voice mail.”
“She’s barely left her father’s side. Rory, the prognosis . . .”
“It’s not good, I take it.”
“She’s beside herself. I thought you might like to know since the two of you seemed close after you brought her in.”
“We’re seeing each other. I’ll head to the hospital now.”
“If you can, bring her something to wear. She found her father and she’s kind of a mess.”
“I’m on it. Thanks, Bell.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll see you soon.”
Rory tucked his phone back in his pocket, kept his back to the mess in Mr. Higgins’s room, and walked down the hall to Sadie’s room. He stood in the doorway, staring at her double bed covered in a navy and white floral-patterned quilt. A hairbrush sat on her dark wood dresser next to a picture of her as a little girl up on horseback, with her mother standing beside her holding the reins. A second picture sat next to her bed. Sadie and Connor as children sitting on the porch, Connor on a lower step, Sadie above with her arms wrapped around her little brother.
“You’ve been keeping him safe for a long time, sweetheart. Holding on to him. But who holds on to you?”
If her father didn’t make it, and Bell had hinted that he wouldn’t, who would look out for Sadie? Certainly not her brother. Rory would make sure no one hurt her, especially not her self-centered kid brother who’d never grown up and still left all the hard work to his big sister.
Rory went to the closet door, opened it, and pawed through Sadie’s things and came up with a purple tote bag. He went back to her bed and the basket of laundry beside it. He pulled out a couple of clean T-shirts, a pair of jeans, dark blue leggings and another pair of black leggings, and some bundled socks. Just in case, he picked out a white tank top–style nightgown that flared out at the bottom. Enough clothes to get her cleaned up tonight, but also in case she needed to stay at the hospital or a motel nearby a few days. He’d try to get her to come home, but knew she wouldn’t want to leave her father.
Rory left her room, knowing he’d picture her there whenever they weren’t together. He’d see her in that bed and dream about being there with her. Right now, he needed to find her and give her the support and comfort she needed to get through this tough time.
He closed up the front door, but didn’t lock it, walked to his truck, and opened the cab door. He tossed Sadie’s bag on the passenger side, climbed in, started the engine, but didn’t pull out of the drive. Instead, he pulled out his cell and tried Sadie again. He got her voice mail.
“Hey sweetheart, it’s me. I’m headed your way. Be there soon.”
He hung up and called the ranch.
“What happened?” his grandfather asked.
“Her father took a bad spill and split open his skull. Bell sent him to the hospital in Bozeman. Beyond that, I don’t know anything more. I’m headed there now.” Rory put action to his words, driving down the driveway to the main road.
“What can we do to help?” his grandfather asked.
“Call that cleaning service we use a few times a year. Send them to Sadie’s place. It’ll probably cost extra, I don’t care, but tell them there’s a lot of blood in Mr. Higgins’s room. It’ll need to be scrubbed and disinfected. I don’t want Sadie coming home to that.”
“I’ll have the whole place cleaned. Anything else?”
“I’ll let you know. Tell Ford and Colt to hold down the fort. I’m not sure when I’ll be back. I’m staying with her as long as she needs me.”
“That’s exactly where you should be. Don’t worry about things here. We’ve got it covered.”
“Thanks. I’ll be in touch.”
“Take care of your girl.”
“I will.” He’d always take care of her. It finally sank in that he not only wanted to take care of her, he needed to do it because she meant so much to him.
It was a long drive into Bozeman. By the time he got there, he was desperate to see her and make sure she was okay. He missed her so damn much these last few days. The few minutes they shared before she dashed off to see her father weren’t enough, but he understood. She needed to be with her dad. He hoped Mr. Higgins’s accident was just a setback and not the end, for both his and Sadie’s sakes.
CHAPTER 16
Sadie sat in the chair by her father’s hospital bed and stared at his bruised and swollen face. As best she could tell, he’d tried to get out of bed, got dizzy, and face-planted into the dresser, bouncing off the wall and landing on the floor. His left eye was black and swollen shut. The splotchy bruising went down his cheek and across his nose. Bandages wrapped around his head, covering the deep four-inch gash across his head and into his hairline. She’d never seen anything so ominous. Blood had poured down his face and neck. He’d tried to get up and help himself, but only ended up passed out on the floor. If she hadn’t stopped at the house on the way to Rory’s place . . . Well, she didn’t want to think what might have happened to her father.
“Miss Higgins?”
Sadie glanced over at the doctor standing at the end of the bed with a thick folder in his hands. She’d met several since she arrived, but couldn’t remember their names or faces really. She didn’t think she’d met this guy.
“Yes, I’m Sadie.”
“Sadie, I’m Dr. Bird. I saw your father about five months ago.”
“You did?”
“He was referred to me after he saw another doctor about having some shortness of breath and chest pain.”
“What kind of doctor are you?”
“An oncologist.”
“My dad has cancer.” Deep inside she’d known, but saying it out loud made it all the more real. That dreaded thing no one wanted to say, let alone have. Her gut soured and the sense of dread she’d lived with these last months and had grown over the last weeks intensified.
“Stage four lung cancer.”
Even that didn’t stun her. Forty years of smoking, killing himself a little bit with every puff. Connor was doing the same, only he’d chosen a much more expeditious form of death.
“I see. So was he undergoing some kind of treatment? Do we need to start something now?”
“I’m sorry to say that your father refused chemotherapy and radiation.”
“What?”
“As I explained to him, it may have prolonged his life, but not saved it. By the time I saw your father, the cancer had already spread to his liver and other vital organs. Your father understood it wasn’t if he’d die from cancer, but when. He didn’t want to spend his final months in and out of the hospital for treatments that would prolong his days, but steal his quality of life. That was his sentiment. And though I wished he’d given us a chance to help, he wanted to be home with you.”
She believed her father chose his quality of life over the side effects of aggressive treatments, but she also knew her father chose to be home with her and spare her the cost of those treatments. They had insurance, but it didn’t cover even half of everything, based on how much Connor’s hospital visits cost them. She’d spent the last years trying to keep their heads above water with the bills and Connor’s added debts. Her father didn’t want to saddle her with more burdens. She understood his way of thinking, but she didn’t like it. She wanted him to fight to live. Not give up because of the financial and emotional cost. Her fa
ther had always been practical, straightforward, and had always done what had to be done. Like her.
“What do we need to do for him now?”
“I’ve compared his new MRI, X-rays, and blood work. I’m sorry to say his condition is worse and deteriorating quickly.”
“What does that mean?” She couldn’t help the catch in her voice or the tears gathering in her eyes. She didn’t want to hear the dire news, but had to face the reality staring her in the face.
“Have you noticed a change in your father recently? Has he had trouble with his motor skills and memory?”
“Yes. He tells stories over and over. He forgets words. I think reading has become difficult. His balance seems off.” She stared down at her father’s battered face. “I’ve found him wandering outside, looking for my mother, or just simply lost.”
“The cancer has spread to his brain.” The doctor said the words she didn’t want to hear and tried to deny.
Tears streamed down her face. She swiped them away, but more fell.
“How long?” She choked out the words, but didn’t want to hear the answer.
“It’s hard to say for sure, but with the brain injury your father suffered during the fall, not long.”
“He’s not leaving this hospital, is he?”
“No. I’m sorry. He signed a Do Not Resuscitate order. We will keep him comfortable.”
“Do you think he’ll wake up again before . . .”
“It’s not likely. I suggest you talk to him. One never knows how much a patient hears while in a coma.” The doctor glanced at her shirt and hands. “I’ll ask a nurse to find you something to change into. You should wash up. You’ll be more comfortable.”
Sadie held up her hands and stared at the dried blood smeared over her skin. Her shirt had mostly dried into an ugly brownish-red splatter.
“Is there someone I can call for you?”
She thought of Rory. She should have called him to let him know she wouldn’t be coming to his house today. She wished he was here. She needed to feel his strong arms around her. She needed his strength and understanding and comfort. She needed him to tell her everything would be all right.
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