When I climbed into my truck and drove straight to her clinic, it had been locked up tight, lights off, parking lot empty. I remember pounding on the door until my fists ached.
Then I drove to her house. Her father stood in the doorway with a confused, pale face. He said he had just woken up and asked if Sedona was with me. The shock in his voice punched through me like nothing else.
We searched. We called friends. We thought maybe she had left town for a night after an argument I could not remember having.
But she was gone. Gone in a way that left no trace. Gone in a way that carved a hole right through my chest.
I rub my palms against my eyes, annoyed at the sting behind them. My mind drags me back to the funeral yesterday. Back to the sight of her sitting between her friend and that blond man who stayed close to her the entire time.
His hand held hers, thumb brushing her knuckles, his body angled like he had every right to be there.
A Beta. She left me, left this town, left our life to build something new with a Beta. The thought sours my stomach with something ugly and hot.
I push off the bed. A cold shower might snap my mind out of this loop.
The water pours over me, freezing and unforgiving. I grit my teeth and take it until the tension inside me loosens enough that I can breathe again.
Droplets trail down my spine when I step out. I towel off fast and pull on jeans, a long-sleeve shirt, and boots.
The house is silent except for Boone shifting in his sleep somewhere down the hall. I grab my hat, step outside, and breathe in the cool dawn air.
The ranch stretches out under the dim sky, acres of land blanketed in early fog. The world is still, but the stillness tonight feels like something holding its breath.
I head straight to the stables. Whiskey Jack greets me with a soft snort, ears flicking as I step inside. His coat gleams even in the poor light, a deep chestnut that always reminds me of autumn leaves caught in sunlight.
I stroke his neck, feeling the strong muscles beneath. He nudges my shoulder, impatient for breakfast.
“I know,” I murmur, grabbing a bucket of feed.
He eats while I brush him down, long strokes from shoulder to flank. His tail swishes, and he stomps once, eager to get moving.
I saddle him, adjusting the cinch with practiced hands. The familiar steps calm something inside me.
By the time I lead him out, the early air bites at my skin. I mount him and click my tongue. He starts forward, hooveskicking up dust as we head down the worn trail that leads toward the back acres.
Riding always helps. Moving. Breathing. Letting the land take whatever I can’t voice.
Whiskey Jack finds his rhythm fast, and soon the ranch falls away behind us, replaced by stretches of open grass, the faint outline of cattle in the distance, and the soft hush of wind moving through the trees.
I guide him toward the lake near the cattle dip. The water reflects the sky above it, dark and silver at the same time.
This place holds too many memories. Good ones. Memories of Sedona sitting on the shore with her pants rolled up, feet in the water, laughing at some stupid joke of mine.
Memories of her leaning back on her hands, her smile shining, her eyes soft as she looked at me like she already saw our future. Memories of me fucking her, wanting her, loving her.
I dismount and let Whiskey Jack wander a bit. The cool air brushes over my neck. I inhale hard, my lungs filling until my chest aches.
I walk to the edge of the lake. The surface ripples faintly when a breeze glides over it. I stand there, toes at the very border, and feel everything slam into me at once.
The grief. The frustration. The confusion.
Five years gone in a blink. Five years since she left me with nothing but a letter I burned twelve months later after staring at it too many nights in a row.
I don’t even know why she left. I’ll never know what she wrote. She ripped my heart out and then erased whatever explanation she thought she owed me.
The anger hits hard. It rises fast.
I tilt my head back and scream into the lake, every ounce of pain ripping right out of me. The sound tears through my throat, raw and violent.
