Chapter 17

After breakfast, we stop by the coffee shop and grab mochas.

When we’re outside, I turn to Remi. “Want to visit Hayden?”

“Sure,” she says. We make our way to Main Street Books, and as we’re crossing the street, my phone buzzes and I answer.

“Dr. Johnson,” a man says. I notice the strain in his voice. “This is Walter Travis.”

“Yes, sir. How can I help you?”

“I’m sorry to call on the weekend, but I was wonderin” if you can come out to my ranch?”

“What’s goin” on?” I ask, glancing over at Remi.

She grins, but I was hoping I wouldn’t have any calls today so we could spend time together. I’ve been waiting all month to see her, so this seems cruel.

“One of my mares got into something, and she's cut up pretty bad on her chest. Skin is flappin”.”

“Text me your address,” I say without hesitation, picking up my pace as we cross the road. “And some pictures.”

He hangs up on me.

“Is everything okay?” Remi asks, taking double the steps to keep in stride with me.

“I have an emergency. Want to ride along?”

“Promised my parents I’d see them for a few hours,” she says. “Mom baked me a chocolate cake with extra icing. I was hoping to bring you with me.”

“Aww, Rem. I’m so sorry.” This would’ve been the perfect opportunity to be with her alone with her folks. I’m annoyed that I won’t be able to join her.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I hadn’t originally planned to see you until tonight, anyway. Since last night, it’s all been extra time with you. I’ve enjoyed it,” she says.

My phone buzzes, and I open the text clicking on the man’s address. It’s fifteen minutes away, but I can be there in twelve. I look at the pictures, seeing the deep gash across her breast. Even though there’s blood on her leg, she looks happy without a care in the world with her ears pointed upright at full attention. That’s good news. Wounds like this usually seem worse than what they are, and it’s unnerving to find an animal in that condition.

I immediately call him back and he answers on the first ring.

“Get her in a stall, and if you see a lot of blood dripping, get some gauze—anything you have—and add a lot of pressure until I get there. Is she acting weird, fatigued, or anything?”

“Not yet. Let me take care of her,” he says, hanging up on me again.

Remi”s hand brushes across mine, and the electrical current is almost too much.

I pull my keys from my pocket and remotely start my truck when it comes into view in front of the condo to get the air conditioner going.

My medical supply bag sits by my bedroom door, and I walk in and plop it on my bed, ensuring I don’t need to stop by the clinic first. Packing after every shift is a habit that guarantees I always have what I need. I once learned a very hard lesson and will never be caught unprepared again.

Remi watches me from the doorway. “Seeing you in doctor mode is so hot.”

Laughter escapes me as I glance over my shoulder at her. She's eye fucking me with her hands tucked into her pockets. “Keep it up, and I’ll call Melody to go out there.”

I pick up the bag and move toward her. When I’m close enough to pull her into my arms, I do.

“Hurry back to me,” she whispers, sliding her lips across mine.

Sweet mocha is on her tongue. As I pepper kisses along her neck, I grab a handful of her perfect ass. “I will, birthday girl. I left a gift for you on your bed.”

“What? You didn’t have to get me anything. You’re enough.”

I smirk. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Remi allows me to pass her, follows me through the house, and watches me climb inside my truck. With a wave, I back out of the driveway with thoughts of her at the forefront.

Once I’m traveling out of town, I glance down at the photo of us and smirk. I knew she’d eventually find it. That photo has been tucked into the dash of every vehicle I’ve driven since the day I left her with a silent promise that I’d return.

When I arrive at the Travis Ranch, a big Ram truck is parked by the big red barn. I park, grab my supplies, and rush inside.

“Dr. Johnson,” he says, relieved to see me. “This way.”

When I enter the stall, there's blood, but not as much as I expected. The cut is deep and stretches across ten inches, but it’s in a manageable place.

I immediately take the mare's vitals. Her heart rate is regular, and she has a strong pulse. I walk around her, checking the temperature of her legs and making sure there are no other wounds.

I pet her neck, then administer some meds as the owner removes the bandages he temporarily placed to cover the cut.

He steps out of the stall, giving me more space to work. She jerks her head back as I numb the area. “I know, I know, I’m sorry.”

I focus on rinsing and disinfecting the area because it’s one of the most critical steps.

“What did you get into, girl? I’m not going to hurt you.” I keep my voice level as she lowers her head, and I run my hand down the softness of her nose.

In Houston, they”d call me the horse whisperer because even the bastards calmed when I got close.

“Is my Molly gonna be alright?” Walter is distraught.

Owners typically blame themselves for accidents, but horses are curious creatures by nature. They find trouble.

With a smile, I speak in the same calm voice I used on his mare. “Yeah. She will be. The upper chest area has a good blood supply, so wounds like this usually heal fine without many issues. All that muscle helps. It could”ve been a lot worse,” I say. After the shit I”ve seen at the animal hospital and the racetrack, this is nothing. “We need to find what she got into, though. Make sure a hazard isn’t lurking for others.”

“I got my boys coming out to search the pasture before dark to see if we can figure it out.”

“Good idea. Don’t want it to happen again. Might not be so lucky.”

Some of the things I”ve experienced are what my nightmares are made of, but I keep that to myself. While my job is typically rewarding, sometimes there are pitfalls. A part of me dies whenever there's an animal I can’t save, no matter how hard I try.

Nearly two hours later, Molly is stitched and more than ready to leave the stall. I recheck vitals, administer an updated tetanus shot; then I call it a day. Everything is manageable, which is the outcome I always hope for on emergency calls.

I remove my gloves and grab my supply kit.

“You have a sink?” I ask.

“Yeah, over here,” Mr. Travis says, leading me into a nice tack room. I love the smell of leather saddles in a storage room. There ain’t nothing like it.

After I wash and dry my hands, he walks me to my truck.

“Thank you for comin” out here. You were quick as lightning,” he says, shaking my hand. “I was worried.”

“It all worked out,” I say. “If you need anything else, call, okay? I’ll order some antibiotics.”

“Thanks, Dr. Johnson. I’ll contact the office on Monday,” he says with a firm handshake.

When I leave the property, I stop by the clinic to replenish my supplies. In the distance, music plays from the barn and Beckett is there. He designed the building so he could use it as an event space at the drop of a hat. The entire family loves a party.

While Remi visits her parents, I waste some time and drive to the training barn with my windows down. I hop out of the truck and round the corner, seeing Beckett’s already moved all the saddle horses and training equipment to the tack room.

“Why do you have that look on your face?” Beckett asks when he looks up at me.

I realize I’m smiling. I’m fucking happy.

“Did you just get finished seeing someone?” he asks with a popped brow.

“Please,” I tell him. “I just sewed up a horse at the Travis ranch.”

“Oh,” he says, carrying a table across the room as Alan Jackson blares over the speakers in the corners. “What happened to your lip?”

By habit I lick it. Thankfully, the swelling went down. “Accident.”

“Weird, you and Harrison both got into accidents.”

“A coincidence,” I tell him, remembering last night, then change the subject. “So, beer pong?”

“Hell yeah. Harrison and I are going to rule the table. We”ve been practicing every lunch break for the past two months,” he admits.

I chuckle. “Remind me not to play tonight. You’re both gonna be annoying about how good you are.”

“Probably,” Beckett says, tilting his head at me. “Something”s going on with you.”

“You can be direct and ask,” I offer, ready to answer his questions, the ones he never asks.

He shakes his head. “Nah. I already know the answer.”

“You’re gonna have to be specific,” I say just as Harrison rounds the corner.

He meets my eyes, and we hold an intense but silent conversation but say nothing before he walks away.

“He's been like that all day,” Beckett says. “I think Grace cut him off or pissed in his cereal this morning.”

I snicker. “Deserves both. So, what time does the party start?”

“At dark. Kegs are getting delivered in a few hours, though. We can start the party early if you wanna join me.”

“Just like old times.” I chuckle. “Start before the sun sets. Wake before the sun rises.”

“The cowboy way,” Beckett tells me. I glance down at my phone and check the time, knowing I need to take a shower. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Hell yeah, man. Tonight.”

It’s mid-afternoon when I arrive home. After I set my supply bag on the floor, I notice our confession book in its usual place on the bar top. I sit and flip it to the last page with her handwriting. Today’s date is scribbled in the corner.

My Valentine,

I was serious about staying pen pals, but there's a reason for that.

I know I need to be honest with myself and my family, but most importantly, I need to be honest.

Since the pages have become our confessions, the truths of our hearts, I have more to share.

After my last breakup, I went to therapy weekly for over a year, and my incredible therapist suggested I write letters to you with the intention of you never reading them.

She believed I had communication issues, and I agree. Sometimes, it’s hard for me to share how I feel, but writing makes it easier.

So, when you suggested we do this, it was almost as if you knew what I”d been doing all along. It felt like a sign.

Anyway, I left the notebooks I filled with the letters to you on your bed.

I”d secretly hoped one day I could share my thoughts with you. They’re about you, anyway.

Also, I want you to know that Harrison asked me what I was afraid of.

His words have haunted me since last night.

I’m so scared of hurting you, of who I’ll become without you.

I’m worried you’ll fall out of love with me and realize I was a mistake, a fling that was only supposed to last a summer.

We’re incredible right now, but will it last? When the chase is over, will you still want me? I hope you do.

You said you didn’t care about the risk, and if you don’t, I won’t either. Or at least I’ll try.

I don’t want to play games anymore, but I need time to tell Beckett and my parents. I will, though—this month. Seven years is long enough.

I’ll probably be visiting with my parents for the rest of the afternoon.

I hope everything went okay with your visit today and it had a happy ending. You’re so good at what you do. It takes a kind heart to help sick and hurt animals. I admire you so damn much.

It’s only been a few hours, and I already miss you.

Thank you for the beautiful earrings.

Each time I wear them, I’ll think about you.

Meet you at the party. Can’t wait to see and kiss you again.

—Your Valentine every day of the year

I sit backin the chair with happiness as a wide smile fills my face.

I walk to my room and see the stack of notebooks on my bed. I flip through them, glancing across her handwriting. I open the first page and my eyes scan over it.