Page 10

The past three days felt like a lifetime. I pushed myself out of the wheelchair on legs as weak and trembly as a newborn fawn’s and blinked in the sharp afternoon sunlight.

“So that’s what the sky looks like,” I marveled.

God, what a beautiful day. The sun on my skin felt so amazing, I didn’t even care that I hadn’t slathered myself in SPF and would likely be red as a beet in the next thirty minutes. And that breeze. Heavenly. I inhaled as deeply as I could while not busting my stitches. Pine and grass and car exhaust.

“You’re the only person I know who could smile like that under these circumstances.” Seb lifted me carefully into his truck and buckled me in.

“Don’t mock my newfound appreciation for life. I’m entitled to it.”

“There’s nothing newfound about it,” he said before shutting the door. He rounded the hood and then settled into the driver’s seat before adding, “I saw that exact look on your face every time we stepped outside. I’m just surprised the stabbing didn’t dim it at all. Or, you know, the fact that you don’t know who the stabber is or what he looks like, but you do know that he’ll probably try again.”

“My attacker will still be out there planning his dastardly deeds tomorrow. Enjoying the sunshine for five minutes won’t change anything.”

He smirked as he pulled away from the hospital curb. “Keep enjoying it. I hope he sees you smiling and it ruins his day.”

The tension was gone from his tone, leaving only amusement.

“Are those my sunglasses?”

I plucked the green pair from the console just as he said, “I found them in your car and figured you’d want them for the drive home. We’re heading west through open pastures, so there’s not a lot to block the sun.”

There it was again. Thoughtful. Detail-oriented. It made a girl feel seen and valued, and if she wasn’t careful, she might mistake it for love. But I wasn’t that girl anymore, the girl who believed the freshly filled water bottle on the nightstand that magically appeared every night meant forever. I was the girl one day later, who saw those packed suitcases by the front door and realized none of it had meant jack shit.

I slipped the sunglasses over my eyes with a smile, accepting them for exactly what they were and nothing more. “Thank you.”

The sudden change from smooth asphalt to dirt jerked me awake. I opened my eyes as we drove under the metal sign welcoming us to Mercy River Ranch. The sun had dipped beneath the ridgeline, leaving the valley in a velvety purple-gray. I squinted through the dusky light as we bumped along, trying to get my bearings.

“I’ll give you a tour of the ranch tomorrow, when you can actually see everything.” Seb turned left. “Tonight we’ll get you settled in, eat dinner, and turn in early.”

“Sounds good.” I yawned. Even after my thirty-minute car nap, I was still tired. Hospitals were great at keeping you alive, but terrible at helping you recover. After being woken up every hour by a nurse to check my vitals or change my IV, I was looking forward to a solid nine hours of uninterrupted sleep.

“These are the owner cabins,” Seb said as we drove through a copse of tall ponderosa pines. I could make out their shadowy shapes, each roughly the size of a single-wide. “Liam Cole is the majority owner. The ranch has been in his family for four generations. His cabin is right there. That next one belongs to Mateo Alvarez, and that one is Holly’s. Jeremiah Bell is another part-owner and the ranch manager, but he has an apartment in the main lodge. And this one is mine.” He pulled off into the gravel driveway and cut the engine.

“You’re a part-owner of a cattle ranch?” I looked from the cabin to Seb and back again with arched brows. “What does Colonel Ashcroft think about that?”

“Oh, he’s thrilled, as you can imagine,” Seb said dryly.

I could imagine, all right. There was no doubt in my mind that Seb’s father loved him, but he demonstrated that love in a very different way than my mother. My mom wanted me to be happy. Colonel Ashcroft wanted Seb to be happy in the right way. He had planned Seb’s whole life for him: West Point followed by a career as a commissioned officer in the Marines before taking the helm of North Lock Defense. But Seb had an independent streak and plans of his own. He’d bypassed college, enlisted in the Navy, and joined the SEALs.

Oh, and instead of settling down with a third-generation Washingtonian with deep political connections and raising two kids in the suburbs, he’d brought home a photographer with wanderlust and a seven-year IUD.

Colonel Ashcroft hadn’t been thrilled about that, either.

Seb unbuckled and then looked at me when I did the same. “Don’t move. I’ll help you.”

I made a face but stayed put as he got out of the truck and came around to my side. Feeling weak and pathetic in front of the strongest man I knew sucked, and I hated it. But when Seb slid one arm under my thighs and his other arm behind my back and lifted me like I weighed nothing, I hated the flutter in my chest even more.

He didn’t put me down right away; instead, he walked us up the gravel path and climbed the three steps to his front porch, where he placed me gently on my feet. After unlocking the door, he flipped on the lights, keeping me behind him with his arm across my stomach while he did a quick sweep of the space, like he thought my attacker might have found a way in.

I rolled my eyes at the needlessly protective gesture, but at the same time, my whole body let go of a weight I hadn’t realized I was carrying. It wasn’t just me anymore, guarding myself from an unseen danger. Seb had my back.

The cabin was rustic and cozy, constructed of wide-planked, knotty pine. A plush, two-seater sofa and recliner, both in maroon corduroy, faced the mid-sized flatscreen television. The adjacent kitchen was small. A two-burner stove, a slightly narrow oven, a refrigerator, and a microwave.

No art on the walls, no throw pillows, no photographs of friends or family, but that didn’t surprise me. Seb had never been much for home décor. The brick townhouse in Georgetown we’d lived in for the ten months of our marriage had been full of my photographs and items from our travels.

Clearly he hadn’t brought any of it with him when he’d left me there.

“Bathroom is down the hall on the right. Bedroom is the door on the left,” Seb said over his shoulder as he headed for the refrigerator. “Clothes are washed and in the top drawer of the dresser. We can go into town tomorrow and get whatever you’ll need for the next month.”