Page 180 of Sunrise & Serenity

“The accident?”

She nods. “What I could’ve done differently.”

I get to my feet and lean against the porch rail. “Yeah. I know something about that.”

Her eyes flick to mine before dropping again. “If I’d waited for the others. If I’d gone down after the calf instead of Sage⁠—”

“Maybe it wouldn’t have happened.”

Her brows pull together, like she wasn’t expecting that answer.

“And maybe it would’ve been worse. That’s the problem. You can come up with a hundred different versions, but you’ll never know.”

Her eyes glisten. “I keep seeing her fall.”

I hate that she has that memory. “I’m sorry you had to see it.”

“I don’t know how to stop.”

Until this morning, I’m not sure I would’ve known what to tell her.

I cross the porch and crouch beside her. “I don’t know how you stop. But I know beating the hell out of yourself every time you remember it isn’t going to change what happened.”

Her mouth trembles.

“She’s okay, Taryn. And she would never blame you.”

She blinks hard, then gives a small nod, though I can tell she’s not ready to believe me yet.

I squeeze her shoulder once before standing again.

Silence settles between us, broken only by the breeze stirring through the cottonwoods.

Then the low rumble of an engine reaches us from the driveway. I take a half-step forward, Taryn scrambling to her feet behind me.

Mia’s truck appears between the cottonwoods.

My pulse kicks. I’ve been into town more than once since Sage went home with Mia. Sometimes she was awake. Sometimes she wasn’t. I kept the visits short. Figured she needed space more than she needed me hovering. As long as she was getting better, I could live with that.

None of that stops the anticipation crackling through me when the vehicle comes to a stop in front of the house.

The driver’s door opens first, and Mia climbs out.

My plan was to wait on the porch and do my best not to crowd Sage—let the rest of my family greet her first.

But I can’t. As everyone else pours out the front door, I’m already moving down the steps.

I swing the passenger door open and take her in, my heart trying to punch its way through my ribs.

She’s wearing a small smile and an oversized sweater that’s slipping off one shoulder. My attention catches on the strip of bare skin it exposes, but I force myself to look away. My family chatters all around, and Mia unbuckles Ruby from her car seat, but it’s all muffled—far away.

“You know I’m capable of getting out on my own, right?” Sage says.

I force out a few raspy words. “Wouldn’t want to have to patch you up again.”

She laughs softly, and then my hands are on her waist and hers are on my shoulders. Despite how badly I want to hold her tight, I lower her gently to the ground. The last few days disappear. The hospital room. The waiting. The sleepless nights. All of it.

She’s here. We’re both here. And for the first time since I walked away nearly two weeks ago, I can breathe again.