Page 109 of The One Who Saw Her: Boone

“Fuck,” he growled again, running a hand over his face, which did nothing to tamper the sharp edge of panic slicing through his chest.

She’s gone. And I’m a fool who let her walk away.

His mind looped, obsessing over every interaction, every choice, every damn second he’d wasted not saying the words he should have shouted from the rooftops.

He didn’t care about the water rights, about the lawyer fees, about anything but finding her and her, making her understand that no letter, no mistake, no grudge could keep him away.

"She loves me," he said, barely above a whisper.

"Yeah, idiot." Eli’s voice was rough around the edges. "She does. And you love her right back. You've just been too much of a coward to say it out loud."

Boone didn't argue because he couldn't. He thought about what he'd said to her. “Maybe you need to decide if you can learn to.”

His stomach turned. “I have to find her.”

Colter pointed at the door. "Do it before she finds someone less stupid.”

Boone stood there, heart pounding, staring at the letter in his hand. Well, hell. He’d spent weeks telling himself he was protecting what was his, when the whole damn time he’d been the one driving her away.

He loved her, and if he didn't move right now, if he didn't go fix the thing he'd broken, he was going to lose her. And that wasn’t an option.

Vivi felt like she'd risen from the dead, her body rebelling against what had been a long, painful night on Jo's couch. She'd managed a change of clothes and concealer over the worst of the shadows under her eyes, but the grief that had stared back at her in the bathroom mirror—there was nothing she could do about that.

So she grabbed her things and stepped out onto Main Street, which was already buzzing with excitement. Booths were being assembled, banners were strung between lampposts, and the smell of fresh pastries drifted through the air like the world hadn't just come apart the night before.

For a second she wanted nothing more than to hide behind a stall and cry into a sunflower. But there was no time—not with the festival needing attention.

Jo had come immediately when she'd called. Hadn't asked what happened, hadn't asked what she needed. Just picked her up, brought her home, and let her cry it out on the couch without making her explain a single word of it. Jo's version of comfort was awkward shoulder pats, a steady supply of beer, and a rotating loop of fuck that guy and he's a bastard.

Every person she passed on Main Street gave her a worried smile, as if they could sense the grief rolling off her. She forced herself to grin and say “Morning,” while pushing down the tight coil of sorrow as she rounded the corner toward the main square.

Jo walked beside her like a personal bodyguard—shoulders back, eyes scanning, daring the morning to try something.

"Just keep walking," Jo said. "One foot in front of the other. Chin up, shoulders back. The stronger you pretend to be, the easier the day gets."

"Speaking from experience?" Vivi asked, watching her sideways.

Jo's shoulders stiffened—just briefly, just enough to notice. Then she met Vivi's eyes and didn't look away.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "I walked away from Eli once. I thought I had to. Thought it was the only way to protect him. To protect myself." A small, rueful pull at the corner of her mouth. "I kept waiting for the ache to go away."

"Did it?" Vivi asked quietly.

"No, but you learn to carry it differently. It becomes part of you, like a scar under your skin. Most days you don't even feel it. But it shapes you and can make you stronger, if you let it."

The festival noise seemed to soften just enough for Jo's words to settle between them.

"So you just live with it?" she asked. Because that sounded unbearable. She couldn't imagine another hour of feeling this way, let alone a lifetime of it.

"Yeah. And you fight for the people who matter." Jo glanced at her. "Even if it means risking the ache again. Because the risk is worth it. It's always worth it."

"Any advice for getting through today?"

"Keep your head high." Jo tapped her lightly on the chest. "Don't let him take up permanent residence in there. If a man's willing to let you walk out the door over a mistake—any mistake—you have to ask yourself what that tells you about him."

Vivi let out a shaky breath, the words hitting her like a gust of wind she wasn’t ready for.

"I messed up," she admitted, barely audible. "I shouldn't have gone behind his back. Even if I thought I was helping, I didn't trust him enough to handle his own fight."