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That was all the voice said. And somehow, after that, he knew from then on it would be gone.
Eli nodded.
He’d packed up and donated Tess’s clothes and other belongings a year after she died. But the smaller things—a picture he’d left on a shelf or a grocery list he’d left hiding under a magnet on the fridge—those had taken longer.
“I used to be afraid I’d forget if I didn’t have all these reminders. Does that sound crazy?”
Boone hoisted the box onto the high shelf in the clinic’s hallway storage closet. Then he turned back to face his brother and shook his head. “Not crazy at all. Sounds like you were a good husband who loved his wife.” He gave his brother a smile that could only be described as bittersweet, and Eli let his chest tighten and then release before closing the closet door.
He would be okay this time.
“Where’s Beth?” Boone checked his watch. “Because your rideshare leaves in thirty minutes. After that, surge pricing kicks in.” He winked, and Eli laughed, which ten days after the accident still hurt like a son of a bitch. But the pain was worth it.
Laughing felt good, and Eli vowed to let more of it into his life.
“Considering I paid for the rental, I don’t think that authorizes the driver to up the rates,” he teased, playing along. “And Beth’s in the barn with Midnight,” he added. “I just want to give them another minute alone before barging in on their moment.”
Eli glanced out the clinic’s front window to the midsize sedan he’d rented for the ride to the airport. He couldn’t drive while he was still taking medication for the pain, and he sure as hell couldn’t climb in and out of his truck, even just as a passenger. Sitting in a car for ninety minutes probably wasn’t going to feel great, but hell if he wasn’t going to spend every last minute with Beth before she got on that plane.
“It’s an audition for a swing spot,” she’d told him. “Which means I might never even get onstage. Auditions are usually in April, but a swing dancer dropped out, and a girl I used to dance with in Vegas who made it to Radio City a few years ago…she gave them my name.”
Beth had shrugged, but the smile that lit up the entire room as she told him the story was evidence enough how huge this opportunity was for her.
“Anyway, rehearsals don’t start until October, so I can work hard on PT and getting stronger until then and…I don’t know. Then we’ll see. But I should probably get through the audition first.”
He’d only ever seen her dance on the Midtown Tavern dance floor. And even though he was pretty sure a Christmas Spectacular would include little to no Dolly Parton or Shania Twain, somehow he knew she’d be the most spectacular dancer on the stage.
Boone pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen.
“Traffic alert on the route to Reno,” he said. “We should probably hit the road sooner rather than later.”
Eli sighed. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll go grab her.”
As he made his way slowly to the barn, his body stiff and sore, he thought back to almost two months ago when he’d acquired an office manager who practically hated him on sight and an abandoned mare he wanted nothing to do with.
Now both Midnight and Cirrus were about to become the founding representatives of the Murphy Horse Rescue and Rehabilitation Ranch. When he was healed and given the green light from his doctor, he planned to make riding a part of his daily life again—horses, though. Not motorcycles.
“Am I interrupting?” he asked when he found a familiar pair of feet sticking out from beneath Midnight’s stall door.
The mare’s head rested solemnly on Beth’s shoulder, and Beth’s eyes were red-rimmed, her lashes wet.
“I’m not going,” Beth declared with a sniffly pout.
Eli laughed. “Of course you’re going.” Even though it hurt to say the words, he also knew that he would never truly be happy if Beth wasn’t. And Beth couldn’t be happy in Meadow Valley. Not now. Not yet. But he wasn’t closing the door on someday.
She sat up, kissed Midnight on the white star between her eyes, and stood, dusting the bedding off her jeans.
“I’d have offered you a hand…” Eli started, but Beth shook her head.
“You shouldn’t even be out here. Or riding with me to the airport. You need to rest and take care of yourself.”
He took her hand, led her the rest of the way out of Midnight’s stall, and then closed the door softly behind them. He kept walking until they were in the arena, the sun already baking the dirt.
“What are we doing here?” she asked, her confusion, for the moment, replacing her tears.
“I’m thanking you,” he told her.
“For what?” Her brow furrowed. She still wasn’t getting it.
