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Of course. Between the pain and haze of all that happened, it slipped her mind that the animals didn’t stop needing tended to even when things got tough.
He leaned over her, hand braced beside her body. “Try to sleep, love. I’ll come check on you.”
She crumpled the front of his shirt in her hand, clinging to him. “Before you go, I need to know how you feel about me, Colton. I need to know that someone in this world cares about me.”
Hovering closer, he searched the depths of her eyes. “I care about you, Meadow. I’m here for you…because I love you.”
Her eyes fluttered closed on his words. He planted a kiss on her lips and left before she opened them again.
Curled up in bed, her mind was far from tired. It raced with things to do—things that she should be doing.
Maybe she should get up and go work with the guys. Giving the barn a good scrubbing or pitching hay into a loft would tire her out fast and give her brain something else to dwell on besides whether or not her father would make it through the next crucial hours.
Suddenly, she sucked in a gasp, bolting upright in bed. Ivy. Her sister didn’t know what happened.
Making a grab for her phone, Meadow was already formulating what she’d say to her sister.
First, she shot off a text to her. The past few she sent had gone unanswered. Of course, Meadow didn’t have much of importance to tell her sister. She talked about her horse or how she saw an old friend of Ivy’s down at Badlands. What was there to say?
Thumbs hovering over the screen, she considered her words. Choosing them carefully was very important. She didn’t want to send her sister into hysterics, but this was urgent.
In the end, she just told her that their father had a heart attack and he had a bypass surgery.
Call me as soon as you get this. I love you.
When she lay back down, she set her phone on the pillow next to her and waited for the buzz of an incoming message. She didn’t even know what city her sister was currently visiting. Or what time zone she was in. She could be anywhere from Munich to Madrid.
Several minutes passed with no response.
In those minutes, Meadow envied her sister so much. She was out there in the world, enjoying herself, blessedly oblivious to more tragedy befalling their family.
They seemed to be falling one by one. Would she be next? When would this all end?
* * * * *
With soft steps, aware that cowboy boots were just as noisy on hard floors as steel-toe combat boots, Colton stole down the hall to Sean Gracey’s office.
The door was partly shut. The inside dim with shadows. When he pushed the door open, he scanned the space.
The blinds had been pulled shut against the bright summer day. And the place looked to have been tossed.
Desk drawers were open with the contents rifled through. In some cases, papers spilled out of them. The box that arrived containing Forest’s items and final letters to his family was upended on the desk and the box abandoned on the floor.
The cardboard was mashed, as though Gracey had stomped on it in a fit of rage.
Colton was no investigator, but he was smart enough to put two and two together. By his guess, Gracey had become distraught by something he discovered in that box—or in his own letter from Forest.
Quietly, Colton began searching the havoc on the desk. Touching items that had to do with his lost friend made him breathe hard and fast. If Gracey experienced the same, no wonder he fell victim to a heart attack.
After sifting through the few papers left in the box, he faltered at the sight of his friend’s handwriting on a few sheets of paper. He had to put them in order before he could read Forest’s letter to his father.
The familiar scrawl tore at his heart—but his words did far worse.
They wrecked him.
Words a son should never say to a father, accusing him of abandoning the family in the years following their mother’s death. Of ignoring Meadow to the point of abuse and criminal neglect. Ivy only got attention because she was young and demanded it. But Meadow was left on her own to deal with her grief and to cry it out on the neck of whatever horse she was training.
Fuck—just fuck. Colton could barely stand the images Forest painted of their life.
