The south pasture glistened under the fresh snow, the horse’s breath steaming into clustered clouds near the hay ring. Thegoats argued over nothing in particular. Life on the ranch seemed to be moving on. All except for me.
“Okay,” I told the empty kitchen. “We’re doing this. One day at a time. Okay?”
The coffee in the pot was hot. Something Austin had done before he left. He preset the machine. My chest tightened when I saw the little note taped to the side in his handwriting:Just in case you sleep in, Doc.
I refused to move it.
I poured the coffee into his mug—the one he’d left. I wrapped my hands around the ceramic and let the heat soak into my fingers. The clinic schedule lay on the table, neat blocks of appointments in color-coded highlighter. Today: two horses, one overly dramatic pug, a heeler, and a follow-up call with the state inspector about the final paperwork.
And, tonight, I swallowed a knot in my throat when I read “bonfire” at six o’clock.
Cassie had called in a favor a few days ago. When she begged me to let her host it on the property, I’d laughed and said yes, then cried in the pantry when I got off the phone.
It was just this one more thing I hadn’t figured out how to do yet: doing it without Austin.
I drank my coffee standing up by the sink. Sitting invited thinking, and I wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. I was still too raw.
Inspector slinked in, tail high, and jumped onto the table. I scratched him under the chin. “You miss him too, don’t you?”
He head-butted my hand, which I took as a yes.
I grabbed my coat, my stethoscope, and Penny’s ledger, then stepped out into the cold.
The air bit my cheeks. The sky was clearing, strips of pale blue opening between clouds. The new sign out front—Everwood Veterinary Clinic, Dr. Milly P. Thomas, DVM—still made my stomach do a swoop every time I saw it.
Inside, the clinic still smelled like fresh paint and disinfectant. The exam tables gleamed. The heated pads Austin helped install warmed them from beneath. It was all in the little details, his details. The cabinet he’d rehung so it closed right. The extra hook he’d added near the back door “because there’s always one more leash.” The emergency kit he’d stocked like we were preparing for the apocalypse instead of mild Montana mishaps. It all reminded me of Austin.
I stood in the waiting room for a second, breathing it in.
“This is ours,” I whispered. “You and me, Aunt P. We did it.”
And then I added, quieter, “And you too, Austin. Wherever you are.”
The day moved on.
The old mare with the arthritic hocks tolerated her injections with noble resignation. The dramatic pug screamed like we were murdering him while we cleaned his ears. The heeler didn’t even flinch when he got his vaccinations, and the last-minute call-in, a twelve-year-old hound, let me cut her nails without a peep but held her head like royalty. Cassie dropped by with hot chocolate “just because” and left muddy bootprints all over the front mat.
“You ready for tonight?” she asked, blowing on her steaming cup.
“No,” I admitted, then adjusted: “Yes,” I said, organizing a stack of client files that didn’t need organizing. “I’m looking forward to seeing everyone. And burning the last of that cursed barn wood.”
Cassie grinned. “I hear you. Do you want help setting up?”
“Nope,” I said. “Duke’s dropping off a load of additional scrap at four. Sue said she’d bring soup.”
“Of course she did,” Cassie said fondly. “I’ve got rolls and pie.”
She hesitated, then nudged the toe of her boot against mine. “Hey. You doing okay?”
The automatic answer, “I’m fine,” came first. Then the real answer. “I miss him,” I said. The words came out small. “Which is not exactly news to anyone, I know. But… I do. A lot. It’s like he painted the ranch before he left, then took the blue.”
Cassie’s face softened. “He looked wrecked when he left, Mils. That’s not a man who wanted to go.”
“I know,” I said. “I understood why he felt like he had to. Loose ends. A life back in Denver. People relying on him. It’s just… knowing all of that and living in the space he left are two very different things.”
“Why didn’t you ask him to stay?”
“I did. I almost begged. The day he left, I asked him several times.”
