Page 56 of Saddles and Snowstorms
I wasn’t sure. I didn’t really remember them well enough to have an idea. But all parents wanted that, right? Old Joe would’ve wanted me to be happy, I think. Losing him hurt more than my parents. And I never wanted to feel that hurt again. But now that I’d tasted companionship, felt something that could bereal… I knew I couldn’t stand to be alone any longer.
With a heavy sigh, I forced myself into the shower to rinse off the grime of the day. I spent far too much time picking out a simple button up and jeans before I clambered into my truck and headed for town, Rowan’s smiling face filling my mind. I promised I’d go see him and I wasn’t ready to break that promise just yet. We both deserved a chance to see if this thing between us would work. At the very least, I wanted to feel his lips against mine once more.
The drive into Sagebrush seemed both longer and shorter than usual at the same time. My truck rumbled down the familiar road, kicking up mud from the melting snow. Already most of the snow was gone except in the deepest drifts. I kept my window cracked, letting the cold evening air cool my flushed face. My palms were sweaty against the steering wheel.
“Get it together,” I muttered to myself. “You’re actin’ like some lovesick teenager.”
But wasn’t that exactly what I was? Not a teenager, of course, but certainly lovesick. The feeling was so foreign it made my chest tight. When was the last time I’d felt this way about anyone? Had I ever?
Sagebrush came into view, its modest collection of buildings bathed in twilight. I slowed as I approached the clinic, noticing Rowan’s truck parked outside. The “OPEN” sign was still lit, though it was past regular hours. My heart did a little flip. Was he really waiting for me?
I parked and sat there for a moment, gathering my courage. Through the window, I could see movement inside. Rowan bent over an exam table, his back to the door. Even in profile, he was beautiful. Focused on his work, the lines of concentration on his face softening his features in a way that made my breath catch. I could see him talking to someone, though I couldn’t make out who it was from this angle.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed open my truck door and stepped out. My boots crunched on the gravel as I made my way to the clinic entrance. The bell above the door jingled when I stepped inside, announcing my presence.
Rowan looked up, and the smile that broke across his face was like sunrise after a long night. “Brooks,” he said, my name on his lips sounding like something precious.
An old woman was sitting in a chair nearby, her ancient tabby cat nestled in her lap. “Oh, good evening,” she said, her eyes darting between Rowan and me with unmistakable curiosity.
“Ma’am,” I nodded, tugging at my collar self-consciously, wondering if the marks on my neck were visible.
“We’re almost done,” Rowan said, his voice professional but his eyes saying something else entirely. “Just finishing a routine checkup. You can wait in my office if you like. It’s down the hall.”
“I’ll be fine right here,” I said, leaning against the wall. I didn’t want to seem too eager, too desperate. But the truth was, I couldn’t bear to look away from him now that I was here.
Mrs. Bosworth—I recognized her now as the widow who lived just outside town—gave me a knowing smile that made heat rise to my cheeks. I pretended to be very interested in a poster about heartworm prevention on the wall. She couldn’t know, right? No… of course not.
“All right, Mrs. Bosworth,” Rowan said, gently scratching the old catbehind its ears. “Whiskers is in good shape for her age. Just keep giving her the antibiotics I prescribed last week, and she should be feeling better soon.”
“Bless you, Dr. Walsh,” the old woman said, carefully tucking the cat into a worn carrier. “You know, my Herbert would have liked you. He always said a man who’s good with animals has a good heart.” Her eyes flicked toward me, that same knowing look in them. “Don’t you think so, Mr. Callahan?”
I cleared my throat. “Yes, ma’am,” I agreed, although I tried to sound as noncommittal as possible.
“Well, I best be getting home before it gets too dark,” Mrs. Bosworth said, struggling to lift the carrier.
“Let me help you with that,” I said, automatically stepping forward.
I took the carrier from her gently, careful not to jostle the cat inside. Rowan gave me a soft smile that sent warmth spreading through my chest.
“Mighty kind of you,” Mrs. Bosworth said as we walked her to her car. She peered up at me with sharp eyes that seemed to see right through me. “You boys be good to each other now.”
I nearly dropped the carrier. Beside me, Rowan coughed.
“Good night, Mrs. Bosworth,” he said, helping her into the driver’s seat after I’d secured the cat carrier in the passenger side.
We stood side by side, watching her headlights disappear down the road. My cheeks flushed despite my best efforts.
“So,” Rowan said, turning to me with a half-smile. “You came.”
“I said I would.” My voice sounded rough even to my own ears. “Besides, you wanted to x-ray me or somethin’?”
“Or something,” he grinned, heading back toward the front door.
Inside the clinic, the fluorescent lights hummed. Rowan locked the door behind us and flipped the sign to “CLOSED”. The silence that fell between us felt charged with electricity, like the air before a storm.
“How’s your ankle?” Rowan asked, his eyes dropping to my knee.
“Hurts,” I admitted. “Did too much today.”
