Page 67 of Saddles and Snowstorms
Blake nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Of course. Here’s my card with my cell on it.” He pulled a crisp business card from his wallet and set it on the counter. “Call me when you’re ready to come home.”
Home. The word echoed strangely in my ears. Austin hadn’t felt like home in a long time, not since everything fell apart. But was Sagebrush home now?
“I’ll walk you out,” I said, needing some air.
Outside, Blake paused by his truck. “You know, Rowan, I always thought you were meant for bigger things than this.” He gestured vaguely at the dusty main street of Sagebrush. “You’re too talented to waste away in some backwater town where the most exciting case you’ll get is a cow with bloat.”
I bristled. “I’ve treated more interesting cases here in two months than you see in a year,” I shot back, my temper flaring. “Don’t act like what I’m doing here doesn’t matter.”
Blake raised his hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean it like that. But you could be doing so much more. Making so much more. Living a life with culture, restaurants, people who actually understand what you do.”
“The people here understand just fine,” I said, thinking of Dolly, of the ranchers who respected my expertise, of Brooks who’d shown more interest in my work than anyone back in Austin ever had.
Blake shook his head, a patronizing smile on his face. “Just think about it, Rowan. That’s all I’m asking. Think about what you’re giving up to stay buried out here.” He paused, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “You don’t have to run away anymore. Tyler is gone. He’s not gonna bother you again. Don’t let all your dreams go to waste just because we had a misunderstanding. It’s not worth it.”
With that, he climbed into his truck and drove away, leaving a cloudof dust in his wake. I stood there, watching until his taillights disappeared around the corner, a stone forming in the pit of my stomach. When I turned back to the clinic, Brooks was standing in the doorway, his expression guarded.
“You going back to Austin?” he asked, his voice carefully neutral.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “It’s a big decision.”
Brooks’s face was unreadable, but something flickered in his eyes—disappointment, maybe, or resignation. He turned away, his shoulders stiff under his plaid shirt.
“You should take it,” he said, his voice low and gruff. “Sounds like a good opportunity.”
I stared at him, surprised by the hollowness in his tone. “Brooks?—”
“I should get back to the ranch,” he cut me off, already moving toward the door. “Got chores waitin’.”
“Wait,” I called after him, but he was already pushing through the door. I hurried to follow him outside. “Brooks, hold on a second.”
He paused on the sidewalk, his back to me, hat pulled low over his eyes. When he turned, his expression was carefully blank, but I could see the tension in his jaw.
“What?” he asked.
“I haven’t made any decisions yet,” I said, taking a step toward him. “I need time to think.”
Brooks looked down at his boots, scuffing one against the concrete. “Ain’t much to think about,” he said gruffly. “Big opportunity. Nice office. Lots of money. Sounds like what anyone would want.”
I took another step forward, trying to catch his eye. “It’s not that simple.”
“Seems pretty simple to me,” Brooks said, still not looking at me. “You got a chance to go back to a real city. Back to where you belong.”
The words stung more than I expected. “Who says that’s where I belong?”
Brooks finally looked up, his dark eyes meeting mine. There was something raw there, something vulnerable that he was trying desperately to hide. “Look at you, Rowan. You ain’t made for this place. Never were. Just a pit stop on your way back to where you’re really headed.”
“That’s not fair,” I said, my voice rising slightly. “You don’t get to decide what I want or where I belong.”
“Don’t I?” Brooks challenged, a hint of anger breaking through his carefully constructed facade. “I’ve seen your type before. City folks come out here thinking they’re gonna find themselves or whatever, then the first chance they get to go back to their real lives, they’re gone.” He shook his head, his eyes turning glossy. “You ain’t any different.”
“You don’t mean that…” I whispered. “You… You can’t…”
“We both knew this wasn’t gonna last,” he said softly, turning away from me once more. “The blizzard’s over. Time to stop pretendin’ this is gonna work.”
My chest seized, my breath catching in my throat. Before I could work through the icy cold filling my body and find my words once more, Brooks walked away. In a matter of seconds, he was climbing into his truck before driving out of town.
All I could do was stand there, tears running down my face.
