She patted at my chest. “I’m sorry. I just—”
“Don’t apologize,” I gritted out.
She straightened in my hold. “Don’t growl at me.”
“I’m not growling.”
“You are—”
I put a finger to her lips. It was a mistake. They were plump and so damn soft. I dropped my hand immediately.
Everly’s mouth opened, closed, and then opened again. “Did you just physically shush me?”
“Sorry. I just—you don’t have to apologize. Sometimes, you just need to let things out. I’m glad I was here.”
She took a step back, moving out of my hold. My fingers twitched as my arms fell to my sides. I wanted to pull her back. Everly looked down at her boots. “Thank you.”
“What brought this on?”
Her gaze lifted, those blue eyes punching right through the walls of my chest. “It…nothing, I—” She stopped herself mid-sentence and shook her head. “I guess you deserve that much for letting me destroy one of your t-shirts.”
I glanced down at my tee. There was a wet patch, and the cotton was stretched in places where her hands had fisted the material. “It’s an old shirt. And it’s hardly ruined.” I lifted my gaze to hers. “Tell me.”
It was a gentle demand, but a mandate, nonetheless. Something inside me clawed to get out. Some need to know what had hurt this woman so deeply. To understand the wounds so I could tread just a bit more carefully, unlike the bull-in-a-China-shop scene I’d pulled in our early meetings.
Everly leaned back against the counter, her fingers curling around the lip of the sink, knuckles bleaching white. “Hadley and Birdie doing cartwheels. It just reminded me of something.”
“Cartwheels?” It was the only thing I managed to get out. Because how in the world did cartwheels lead to pain that I could feel across a room?
“It reminded me of the good and bad. Addie and I used to have handstand contests to see who could balance the longest.”
My sisters had done the same thing. And whoever had won got bragging rights for the rest of the day. “You guys were close growing up?”
“The closest. More like sisters than cousins. Her mom left when she was young, so mine looked after her a lot.”
“Okay…” I let the word hang in the air, a silent request for more.
“One time, I got a little carried away and sent myself flying into one of the fences.”
“Ouch.”
Everly’s mouth curved the barest amount. “It wasn’t pleasant.”
I’d pulled more than one boneheaded move in my childhood. I’d broken a collarbone, my wrist, and sprained my ankle at least three times. I’d lost track of the number of stitches I’d received over the years. “Did you break anything?”
She held out her arm and traced an invisible line along her forearm. “Right here.”
“How long were you in a cast?”
Her jaw worked back and forth as she searched for the words. “I wasn’t.”
“You didn’t have to get a cast?” I was pretty sure every broken bone required one.
“My father wouldn’t let me go to the hospital.”
Everything in me stilled. It was the first time she’d brought him up in front of me. She hadn’t even said his name, and my blood still went cold. “Why not?” I could barely get the words out.
She stared down at her arm as if she could see where the bone had been torn apart. “He didn’t trust doctors. Thought conventional medicine was poison. That they gave you things you didn’t need. Sometimes, he thought it was one of the ways the government tracked people.”
“Did your mom take you?”
Everly’s chin lifted, her eyes so bleak. “No. She couldn’t go against him. Not like that.”
“Fuck that.” I started pacing back and forth across the kitchen, needing to move or I’d explode. “She should’ve left and taken you and your brother with her. What kind of messed-up person stays and puts her children through that?”
“A weak one.”
I stopped and turned slowly back to Everly.
“She was weak. Fallible. Human. She’d used all of her courage to go against her parents’ wishes and marry my father. When it wasn’t what she thought it would be, she had nowhere to go. No one to turn to. She met him when she was nineteen. Barely had a high school diploma. She had Ian when she was only twenty-one—still a baby herself.”
“Calder was only a little older when his twins were born, and he’d do anything for them. How can you just excuse her like that?”
Everly released her hold on the sink. “I’m not excusing it. I’m still furious with her. You don’t think I am? I live with hundreds of memories just like that one. But I choose to try and understand her. Otherwise, all of that anger will eat me alive.”
“That’s why you’re here.” It suddenly made all the sense in the world.
“I have to find a way to make peace with it. With her. With the rest of my family. With this place. This land was in her family for generations. Her grandmother left it to my mom in her will. There was so much good in this place for so long. And I have a chance to make it that again.”
I could practically feel the need clawing at her. “That’s a heavy weight to put on your shoulders.”
Everly looked up, meeting my stare dead-on. “I’ve never fit anywhere. But these mountains? They always accepted me, grounded me. They were my touchstone when I didn’t have anything else.”
Her gaze drifted away from me, moving toward the window and the sprawling landscape outside. “I thought maybe I could find my place in them. Heal some of those hurts—for others and myself. All I know is, I have to try.”
19
Everly
I took a deep breath of the pine-scented air as I stepped out into the sunshine, the door to the vet’s office closing with a snick behind me. I closed my eyes and tipped my face up to the light. Maybe the rays would infuse some energy into my body.
I was wrung out. Physically. Emotionally. Yesterday had drained every drop. Because after my emotional unburdening with Hayes, we’d had to go back to work. He’d offered to make up an excuse for me, say that I wasn’t feeling well, and it would’ve been true enough. But I wasn’t going to let his family clean up my mess alone.
So, back out I’d gone. I’d received some concerned looks, and Hayes some stern ones, but I’d simply ducked my head and started hauling debris. The physical labor had helped, but my body was paying for it today. I would try to cram myself into the minuscule bathtub the cabin had. Or maybe I’d drive out to the hot springs. Either way, I needed a soak.
I started down the path towards the sidewalk and came up short. Addie was walking next to Ben. My heart clenched. Something about seeing the two of them together got to me—the friends I’d spent so much of my childhood with. And their lives had simply gone on. They’d stayed friends, and had left me behind. Or had I gone on ahead? I wasn’t sure anymore.
Ben smiled. “Hey, Evie.”
“Hi.” My voice came out on a croak. “How are you guys?”
Addie looked around before answering. “Good.”
“I heard about what happened up at your place. Are you okay?” Ben asked.
“Fine. Just dealing with the cleanup.”
“I can come up and help this evening if you need it.”
God, he still had that kindness I’d always basked in growing up. “Thanks, but I had some people helping out yesterday, and it’s mostly done.”
His gaze hardened a fraction. “Who? You need to be careful who you tell that you’re living up there alone.”
My lips twitched. Ben had always been overprotective. “It was the sheriff and his family, so I think I’m safe.”
Ben didn’t look quite as convinced. “Okay. Just be cautious—you know you can come stay with my folks and me at the ranch if you need.”
“Thanks, but I’m good.”
He turned to Addie and squeezed her elbow. “Why don’t you catch up with Evie? I’ll tak
e the jams to the bakery and go to the store.”
“What about—?”
Ben cut her off. “Allen’s moving the cattle today. He and the guys won’t venture into town.”
I sent Ben a grateful look before turning back to Addie. “Let me treat you to lunch. Have you ever been to Spoons?”
She shook her head. “That would be nice.”
“I’ll meet you back here in an hour?” Ben asked.
I adjusted my purse on my shoulder. “An hour would be perfect. Do you want me to bring you a sandwich or anything?”
His mouth quirked. “Still trying to feed me?”
“Some things will never change.”
“It’s nice to have things you can count on. But I already ate.”
Ben’s words twisted something in my stomach. How many times had I snuck him a cookie or an extra sandwich because he had the appetite of someone five times his size? And now he was this weird mix of stranger and brother of my heart. “All right. I’ll bring you a cookie, then.”
“That, I’ll never say no to.” With a wave, he was off.
Addie and I were silent for a moment, not moving at all. She spoke first. “He always was half in love with you.”
I snorted. “More like he was half in love with all of the treats I snuck him.”
“He missed you. So did I.”
“I tried to write, Addie.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I couldn’t risk writing back. Dad was so mad at you.”
I knew that, too. And now there was this chasm between us that I wasn’t sure we’d ever be able to close. But I had to try. “Let’s get some lunch.”
I started down the street, and it only took a moment for Addie to follow. She fell into step beside me, and it was like an awkward version of the old times. I couldn’t help but wonder what it would’ve been like if I’d stayed. A mix of images flitted through my mind. I wouldn’t have lost Addie or Ben. We would’ve been just as close. But I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I would’ve slowly ceased to exist.
I stole a quick glance at the person I’d loved most in the world. The same had happened to Addie. The eyes that had once held a bright twinkle were dull, searching the street for signs of an attack. I swallowed against the burn in my throat.
I’d chosen myself over everyone else when I left. It wasn’t that I hadn’t thought about Addie—I thought of her all the time. But I’d picked myself over staying to help her. It wasn’t right or wrong, it was simply survival. It ate away at me, nonetheless.
Choices. An infinite number of them. Big and small. And together, they made up a life. One that made Addie and I strangers now.
I pulled open the door to the small café, motioning Addie inside. Jill looked up from behind the counter. “I think we’ve got a new regular. I love it.”
“I’m having a hard time staying away.”
“I’ll let you in on a little secret. That was our plan all along.”
I chuckled. “Jill, this is my cousin, Addie.”
“Nice to meet you, Addie.”
“You, too,” Addie answered softly.
Jill picked up two menus. “What do you think, outside in the sun or inside in the air conditioning?”
I looked at Addie in question.
“Let’s do inside.”
I should’ve guessed. Inside meant less chance someone might see her with me and accidentally drop that into casual conversation with Allen. Not that Allen had a whole lot of casual-conversation kind of friendships. But better to be cautious.
Jill led us to a table against the wall. “How’s this?”
“Perfect,” I said, sliding into one of the chairs. “Thanks.”
“Just wave me over when you’re ready to order.”
She disappeared back behind the counter, and Addie and I were alone again. Addie studied the menu meticulously. “What do you like here?”
“The egg salad is my favorite, but the soups are good too if you want something lighter.”
“Egg salad sounds good.” She kept her eyes glued to the laminated paper as if it held all the answers in the world.
“How are you, Addie?”
It was both the simplest question and the most complicated. But it was everything I wanted to know.
She carefully set the menu down on the table and looked up. “I’m fine.”
Nothing about her was fine. She was too skinny. Dark circles rimmed her eyes. And her fingernails had been bitten down to the quick.
“Please, don’t lie.”
A flash of heat filled her dull eyes. “And what makes you deserve the truth? My truth. You left.”
God, it was good to see a bit of life in those eyes, even if it was from anger directed at me. But the words burned, as intended. “I had to go. You know, I did. But I’m so sorry that it meant I had to leave you, too.”
Tears filled her eyes, and she quickly wiped them away. “It’s been lonely without you.”
I could only imagine. After everything that had happened with my father, Allen had tightened the reins on Addie even more. She’d been cut off from the world. “You had Ben, though, right?”
“He tries to stop by as often as he can. But he had his wife, and…” Her words trailed off.
I’d almost forgotten what Ian had said about Ben’s wife. “What happened?”
Addie straightened the silverware on the napkin. “I’m not sure, exactly. There was a lot of bleeding, and no one could stop it. By the time he got her to the hospital, it was too late for her and the baby.”
My chest constricted as the scene played out in my imagination. “He took her to the hospital?”
“They didn’t want him to, but Ben did it anyway.” Darkness flitted over her features. “Dad blames the doctors.”
Of course, he did. Allen and my father stirred each other up with their conspiracies. Allen knew that my dad was taking it too far, and he didn’t care. None of them had.
“How is Ben doing now?” Guilt for how I’d pushed Ben away when he’d first appeared at the cabin ate at me. He’d learned to stand up to his parents and Allen at too high a cost.
Addie adjusted her silverware yet again. “A little better, I think. But he blames himself for not taking her sooner.”
That kind of weight could drown a man. “He’ll have to find a way to release some of it.”
“Have you?”
I picked up my water glass and took a sip before setting it down. “I’m trying. That’s part of why I’m here. To finally make peace with it all. To try and let it go.”
“You’ve seen the Eastons?”
“They’re…amazing. It’s so different from how we grew up. The way they help and support each other.”
Addie’s gaze drifted out the window. “You and I helped and supported each other.”
I reached out and laid a hand over hers. Addie jolted, but I didn’t let her hand go. “We did. And I want that again. You’re another reason I came back. I missed you so damn much.”
“Pebble for the swear jar.”
Her words startled a laugh out of me. My mother had been appalled when Ian had picked up some foul language, and that had trickled down to me. The first time I’d said the word shit, she’d dropped a glass of lemonade, shattering it on the floor. Mom had instantly instituted a swear jar. Every time we messed up, we had to get a piece of gravel or small rock from outside and place it in the jar, along with doing an extra chore. When the jar filled to the top, Ian and I would have to do some monumental task that neither of us wanted to do. I was forever having to pick up a pebble.
“I’m afraid the jar never really did its job.”
Addie’s mouth curved. “I can tell.” She was quiet for a moment. “You work at the vet’s office?”
The curiosity in her tone only lit more anger at my uncle, but I kept my voice even. “Yeah. I went to college first, but then I did an accelerated vet tech program.”
“You always did want to work with animals. And now, you are.”
/>
“I’m still going to build the sanctuary. I’m doing it on Mom’s land. You could help, Addie. Come live with me. We could do it together.”
Her eyes widened. “I-I can’t. You know that, Evie.”
“You’re twenty-four, Addie. You can leave. There’s nothing he can do to stop you.”
“It’s not that simple. I have nothing. No one.”
“You have me.”
A war of emotions played over Addie’s expression. “But who knows when you’ll leave again. Just like everyone else.” She pushed jerkily to her feet. “This was a bad idea. I need to go.”
“Addie, wait—”
“I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
20
Hayes
My feet hit the dirt with more force than necessary, but I welcomed the jar to my bones. That little bite of pain, along with the burn in my lungs, was my release. One I’d needed after the longest week in history.
Between the evenings I’d been pulling with my family at Everly’s and the hours I’d been logging on both Cammie’s case and the fire, I needed this outlet. The only thing I’d seen progress on was cleaning up the barn. The rubble was gone, and the ground leveled, ready for whatever structure Ev wanted to put in its place.
We’d hit a dead stop on Cammie’s case. No one had seen a man who fit the description we had. And I wouldn’t deny that a large part of me hoped it was someone passing through. That we wouldn’t have to deal with any other calls like hers.
We’d come to the same crossroads on Everly’s fire. Only this time, I had a real guess as to who was responsible. I’d asked Ev if I could put up a couple of game cameras on her drive to give her some additional security. She’d reluctantly agreed, and I’d made sure that word of cameras going up got around. In truth, they wouldn’t do much—there was simply too much land to cover. But I hoped that they would make someone who wanted to stir up trouble think twice.
Koda bounded across the trail we both knew by heart, and I couldn’t hold in my chuckle. It was the sheer joy on his face. Apparently, we’d both needed the run.
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