AllFreeNovel
Share Us
His brows go up and a slow smile moves over his face.
“Look at you, Mrs. Garrison,” he says.
“Miss Stowe,” I manage, wiping my face hard. I unfurl my hand and hold out the pieces of the painted mare. “I fell after I shot him and smashed my horse.”
Westin stares down at the broken wood and I can tell this is above his paygrade. My fingers close around the piece and I hold them to my chest.
I’m not crying over the horse.
Everything changes, but this little piece of wood has been constant. It’s my earliest memory. I held it when my father told me how my mother passed. It lay beside me the first night I slept at the Garrison house after my father was gone. I’ve been alone with nothing but wood and paint to keep me company for as long as I can remember.
And that’s just so fucking sad I can’t go back to it.
“Is he going to make it?” I whisper.
Jack looks up. His hands are bloody.
“He’ll be fine,” he says. “He’s not in danger, the bleeding has slowed. The wound was surface level, but it was enough to put him into shock.”
A wave of relief passes over me and the urge to vomit wanes. I’m cried out, and there’s nothing left to do but be strong. Westin gets up and holds out his hand and I take it, letting him help me up. I go to Gerard and slip my hand into his, watching Jack apply a bandage to his head.
“He’s fine,” he says. “He just had a sudden loss of blood.”
I nod, wiping my nose.
Westin blows out a sharp breath and goes to the door. He kicks it open and lights a cigarette. “He’d better live so I can kick his ass. Motherfucker didn’t have to call me out like that.”
Jack glances up. “He didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. You were fucking Thomas Garrison’s wife.”
Westin jerks his chin, blowing smoke from his nose. “Fair, but he was an asshole about it.”
My tired brain can’t comprehend what they’re talking about. Nothing but the man sleeping on the table is important anymore. I lay my head on his shoulder and watch his chest rise and fall. He’s going to live.
And the scales are balanced.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
GERARD
My head aches, my body is stiff. My lashes feel stuck closed and when I turn, natural light burns my lids. It takes me a moment to remember what happened and I roll onto my side, abruptly sending a shot of pain through my head that makes sickness roll through my body.
I open my eyes.
The outline of her face is blurry. I blink rapidly and she comes into focus. Beautiful face at rest, eyes shut. Pale lashes rested against her freckled cheeks. Relief floods me that she’s safe, here in my bed where she belongs.
I push myself up on my elbows, using my fingertips to inch back against the headboard until I’m sitting upright. I’m in the loft in the cabin, which means Westin and Jack must be around because she couldn’t have carried me up the stairs.
It’s the middle of the day, I can see the pale sun glittering over the hills. I can’t have been in the cabin long because the storm still hasn’t fully hit. Thick, pale clouds gather on the edge of the sky, just above mountains touched with falling snow.
I can hear someone walking in the kitchen. Working carefully so I don’t wake her, I slide from the bed. My head spins, butI manage to make my way across the loft and climb down the stairs. I’m shirtless and there’s still dried blood on my chest, but someone put sweatpants and socks on my lower body.
Westin stands in the kitchen, holding a cup of coffee. Our eyes meet and it hits me right then what we did last night and today. For almost two decades, we’ve worked and lived together under the shadow of vengeance. And now it’s suddenly gone.
We’re free.
I wonder what he’ll do with that freedom. I know what I’ll do with mine.
“It’s good you’re up,” he says, jaw working. “Storm is holding off, but we need to get back.”
