Chapter Twenty-Nine

Hannah…

I wake to sunlight and the ding of my text messages. I grab my phone to find a photo of about twelve wild horses running across an open field. Of course it’s from Roarke, and I text back: Beautiful.

Yes, he replies. And two of them fell sick this morning. It’s not the food supply, or they wouldn’t be affected.

Has your dad arrived? I reply.

My phone rings and I accept the call to hear his answer. “Not yet. Hoping like hell he has some insight.”

“What are you thinking?” I ask, sitting up, hearing the frustration in his voice.

“Poison. I think it’s poison.”

“Intentional?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t fucking know.”

“You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

“But how many more horses suffer before I do?” He doesn’t wait for the answer I can’t give him. “I need to go into surgery, but look in the box under the bed. I’ll call you later.”

“Okay. Good luck in surgery.”

We disconnect, and I’m officially curious about what’s under the bed. I throw away the blankets and climb out of the bed, but not before I inhale that wholly masculine scent of Roarke clinging to the sheets. I go down on my knees and pull the box from beneath, lifting the lid and sucking in a breath at what I find. He kept my clothes? I have no idea why this feels significant, but it does. Perhaps because it’s as if he never let me go, even when I thought that’s exactly what he did.

I pull out my old brown cowboy boots with blue flowers on them as well as my old favorite jeans and a black T-shirt with a stallion on it. I even have socks and a bra and panties. This is perfect. I set it all on the bed, and I’m about to get up when I notice something else under the bed to my left. I reach for it and pull it out, sucking in a breath at the sight of my red boots, the boots I planned to wear under my wedding dress.

I stand up and set them on the bed, my heart thundering in my ears. These boots are special. This man is special. Suddenly, I want them on my feet. I want to wear them like I do this life with Roarke. I sit down in the corner on a big overstuffed brown chair, and when I go to pull on the right boot, I hit something. I reach inside and pull out a velvet box. My heart is now exploding. Oh God. My ring. He kept my ring. I open the box and stare down at the heart-shaped diamond, and I’m back under the big oak tree where we carved our names, the river flowing beside us, two horse tied up nearby.

Roarke goes down on his knee in front of me. “What are you doing?” I ask, laughing, in a fabulous mood after a fabulous ride.

“Hopefully not screwing this up.” He reaches in the pocket of the jacket he’s wearing and produces a box, which he opens. Inside is a stunning heart-shaped diamond ring. “I had it custom made. A heart because you have my heart. I love you, Hannah. You as my wife will complete my life. Will you marry me?”

My tears are instant, streaming down my cheeks. “Yes. Yes.”

He stands up and slides the ring on my shaking hand before he kisses me, and I’m the one who feels complete.

I come back to the present and stare down at the engagement ring. I love this ring. I love this man. God, how I wish I could turn back time, but even as I have that thought, I think of my words to Roarke last night. I was young, too young when we were together. I wasn’t ready. We weren’t ready. I close the box, and I set it and the boots on the ottoman in front of the chair. I could put the boots and ring back under the bed, but I’m not going to do that. I ran before. I hid from everything, including Roarke. I’m ready to talk about the past to live in the present more fully. When Roarke gets back, I’m going to be right here, waiting on him, and so are those boots and that ring. I don’t know if that’s where we’re headed again, but I no longer want to shut that door any more than I want to force it open, either.

I shoot Roarke a message: I know you won’t read this until surgery is over. I’m thinking about you. That’s all I wanted to say. I hesitate and breathe out, and I think about Jason’s insistence that Roarke didn’t cheat. I don’t know what happened, but I know Roarke cheating on me never felt right. That’s why it was so completely devastating. I glance at the clothes I’ve left on the bed. He kept my things. He didn’t let go. I glance down at the message and dare to put myself on the line by adding, I was really always thinking of you.

With that, I head to the shower, his shower, and what’s telling to me is that I don’t feel fear. I don’t feel like I’ve just set myself up to be hurt again with Roarke.