Page 71 of High Density

At least that had been the plan.

I called him from the hospital this morning, after I spoke with Jericho. The councilman had apparently already talked to Sheriff Ewing, so he was aware I was in the hospital and had put a call in to another area vet to fill in. I’d offered to get in touch with Logan to get him up to speed and to ask him to assist theother vet, since he was already familiar with the layout and the procedures at the rodeo.

“Okay, so far. I’ll probably be out of here in an hour, maybe a little longer if something comes in at the last minute, but I was just calling to see if you wanted me to stop by and check in on the animals after I’m done? I’m happy to crash in the barn so I can feed them in the morning. My parents aren’t home anyway.”

I don’t think the FBI wants Logan anywhere near my place. Frankly, neither do I, it’s much safer for him to go straight home. I don’t want him inadvertently landing on the drug traffickers’ radar.

“No need,” I quickly tell him. “Someone is staying at my house. He’ll look after the place and the horses, and I’ve got Ginger with me.”

“With you? At the hospital?”

“No. I was released earlier. I’m staying at?—”

JD suddenly taps my knee and shakes his head, putting a finger to his lips.

“…a friend’s place,” I finish.

“That’s good. Well, I’d better go, but let me know what’s happening for Monday.”

“I will, as soon as I figure it out.”

I end the call and turn to JD.

“Why didn’t you want me telling him I was here?”

“He can’t reveal what he doesn’t know,” JD explains with a serious expression on his face. “It’s for his safety as well as yours.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Janey

I can’t believehow quiet it is here.

I’ve been sitting out here with Ginger snoozing by my side for the past hour, and all I hear is the burbling water in the creek, the birds chattering in the trees, and an occasional animal call I can’t really place.

It’s peaceful.

I’mpeaceful, which is a bit of a surprise, considering I’m usually a bit of an Energizer Bunny and not good at staying still. I couldn’t even stay inside on the couch for long after JD left. Yet, I’ve been content sitting in this deceptively comfortable chair on the deck, simply existing, since I came out here.

Today I’m feeling a lot better than I did yesterday, which I’m sure plays a role, but I think it’s more than that. I think that being on my own since I left home in my early twenties, I’ve become used to everything falling on my shoulders. There is always something that needs to be done, and “idle hands are the devil’s workshop,” as my father used to quote.

I’m coming to terms with the fact hardworking is a badge I like to carry. A label I don’t mind wearing. It feels comfortable to think that’s how others see me, how I’ve begun to identify myself. It’s where I’ve always seen my value in the eyes of others; my worth. I’m strong, I’m capable, and I don’t need anyone else.

But this morning, sitting here completely unproductive and feeling quite at peace with that, I realize that is changing. A hard worker is only part of who I am, there is so much more to me.

I’d love to claim I came to that realization by myself, but I doubt I would’ve had this epiphany if JD hadn’t drifted into my life. He makes me feel fully seen in a way I haven’t experienced before. There don’t seem to be any conditions or expectations to his desire to be with me.

He simply wants to be around me, look out for me, and I’m learning to recognize it for the gift it is. I may notneedanyone else, but damn, it sure feels good to have him in my life.

When Phil Jericho called this morning, wanting to know where he could drop off my check and a few items I’d apparently left behind at the rodeo grounds, I didn’t argue when JD offered to collect my things. I don’t particularly want to deal with Jericho. I was surprised he actually called, I would’ve thought he’d be busy with the aftermath of the rodeo and the events of the past few days. Everyone’s probably moving out today, on to the next event, wherever that is.

I’m not even sure what’s happening in terms of the FBI investigation, I haven’t heard from Stephanie Kramer since Friday night. We’ve been living in a bit of a bubble, first at the hospital and, since yesterday, here at JD’s place. A little reprieve from what has become an ugly world out there.

So, I’m sitting here, enjoying a peaceful morning, while JD is out there—slaying my dragons—and I’m surprisingly okay with that.

Suddenly Ginger raises her head, her ears tracking for sound. A soft growl sounds deep in her throat.

“What is it, girl?”

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