And this time, I’m not letting her walk away.
Just as I’m about to leave, something shifts.
A soft crack behind me—sharp, almost like a tree branch snapping. I turn my head instinctively and scan the half-finished porch.
And then?—
Crack!
Blinding pain explodes across my skull.
The world tilts.
Spins.
A sharp yap. I think it comes from Zach.
A support beam—one of the unfinished braces—lies on the ground beside me, splintered at the edge. I don’t remember falling. Just the jolt. The white-hot sting.
My knees gave out.
I hit the dirt hard, my cheek pressed into the gravel, blood pooling warm beneath me.
The last thing I think about before everything fades is her name.
Tabitha.
One
Tabitha
Funny.
The drive from Boulder to the Western Slope was beautiful.
Wild.
Going the other direction?
The sky, once wide open, narrows. The air gets heavier, almost like it knows I’m carrying something I didn’t have on the way there. The little towns I thought were so quaint a few days ago now look worn down. The silos and grain elevators aren’t rustic anymore. Instead they seem dull and gray. The neon sign for the diner with the D burned out doesn’t make me smile this time. Instead, it only reminds me of everything falling apart.
I should be excited—I am excited—about the surgical seminar. I’m honored to have been chosen, even though someone had to drop out for me to get a spot. After the month-long workshop, the fall semester will begin, and I’ll get back into the rhythm of classes.
That’s what I’m meant to do.
This is the life I chose, the life I’ve fought for, and I can’t afford to get distracted.
But he’s still there, in the back of my mind.
Henry Simpson.
His voice. The way he looked at me—if only once or twice—like maybe I was the one thing in his world that made sense. And then the way he pulled back, like it was all too much.
I keep telling myself it’s better this way. I have enough on my plate. I have an entire career to build, a future that doesn’t leave room for heartbreak. But the knot in my stomach doesn’t care about logic. It tightens every time I replay how I fell asleep curled into him.
Then I woke up alone this morning.
He’s probably already convinced himself I was nothing more than a summer mistake.
