Page 84 of Drifter’s Heart

I sigh my relief.

“Well, that’s good, then.” Tom edges away.

“Hey, you got any of those chicken sandwiches with you?” I follow him along the hallway, keeping my steps easy and light. Keep sipping my coffee even though it’s nearly all gone. I can play this game too, and pretend all day long. It’s all too easy to fall into old habits.

“No. No, not today. Sorry about that.” Tom takes another step away from me.

“It’s okay.” I amble forward.

Once that would have hurt, my need to chase him rising. Was that what I’ve been doing? Damn. I do need to reset my expectations. Later, though. When I have a cowboy in front of me covered in Coyote dust.

“I really need to go. Don’t you have somewhere else to be right now?” Desperation edges into Tom’s tone when he can’t shake my stalker paramedic ass.

“Winnie! I’m glad I found you. Great going last night, man.” Keith jogs along the hall and claps a hand to Tom’s shoulder. I swear the touch goes right through. Keith’s face would be comical if his expression weren’t so puppy-eyes sad. He nods to me. “Good coffee?”

“The best.” My smile is tight. My whole face.

“Great.”

Tom looks between us as we bar his escape on either side of the hallway. “It’s not even six a.m. Can’t you two find something else to do?” He frowns at the dark-haired woman who steps up to my side, her arms full of forms and clipboards. “It’s not like this is an⁠—”

“Intervention?” I smile wanly. “Yeah, Tom. It is. And from what I hear, it’s been needed for a while now. Not because of the gigs or the drinking or the attitude toward others, even though those things can all be fixed too. I mean, the ‘feeding me when you never feed yourself’ thing. Going into the toilets and throwing up. The weight loss, so rapid that I’ve been away and busy for a few weeks and I can see a marked difference in you. Not just in weight, but in muscle mass and your general health. But also the denial.” I step back at that point and let Demi argue with him.

Because Tom does argue. Again and again and again.

Keith stands beside me the entire time. “You did good, kid.” He squeezes my shoulder as I clutch an empty coffee cup I can’t put down.

“I missed an eating disorder in a man I crushed on for a year who sings shirtless in clubs onstage. What kind of medic am I?” I shove the words out, disgusted with myself on more than one front.

Keith shrugs as though our previous argument meant nothing. Not to me. Every miss eats at my conscience. “Yeah, but you did figure it out. Not everything is cut-and-dried. You know that, right? Not everything is perfect or simple.”

But what if I want it to be?

I stand there and watch, beyond useless and utterly helpless, as one of our own is led away to whatever future he has left, for now. And… I’m not going to be there with him. Tom throws me a piteous glance over his shoulder, seeking something—reassurance, support, love—but I have nothing to give. I’ve been back a handful of hours and I’m already running on empty.

I want to fall into West’s arms and cry.

Instead, I let Tom be taken away, and I do nothing at all.

TWENTY-SEVEN

WEST

When She Hides

My rodeo world burns and dies.

Everything I’ve created descends to ash. But that’s okay. I’ll build another one tomorrow. Should it be possible? Absolutely not on any normal day in the program. I reduced the safety measures earlier, which means that this is destruction with intent. And a little something extra with the assistance of the Rand Enterprises IT department, who has tweaked my Sims 1 version for me.

The benefits of having a billionaire as my best friend.

Which begs the question: Why aren’t I back at Coyote Falls where I belong?

Answer: because I’m not sure that’s where I do belong.

That question-and-answer unit has played on my mind over the past months. For nearly a decade I worked shoulder to shoulder with Cordell, helping him get back on his feet, literally. Took him to therapy appointments, made sure that he didn’t fall or fail. I was there for every single step. I made sure that when he swore, or grazed his knees, I took the pressure he couldn’t handle for himself. Kept him out of the darkness where he tended to sink in the hours when we both should have been sleeping.

He worked. I played.