Page 37 of Serious Cowboy

Then, there was Callie, this woman who’d been present from day one. When he’d initially seen her standing at the threshold of his room, he hadn’t been lying, he didn’t know who she was or why she might be there. Yet, as she demonstrated her strength and compassion with him over the intervening days, he knew one thing. She was good. She was kind. She had a beautiful soul to go with that beautiful face of hers.

Also, she must be someone important to him.

So, his trust in her increased. Above and beyond everyone else, he trusted Callie. When he’d seen his parents, he’d vaguely recognized them, but his feelings toward them were complicated. When he was around Callie, however, his feelings were much more cut and dried. She’d dedicated herself to being there, and he knew she’d continue to be there.

That was all he really needed to know.

He didn’t know why, but when he woke that morning just as the sunrise was dawning with pink and gold majesty over the horizon, he remembered everything. Or at least, he thought he did. He even remembered the accident that had likely led to him being in here.

Or parts of it, anyway.

He peered down at the cast now coating the majority of his left leg. It had ached when he’d initially awakened, but now it didn’t hurt as long as he didn’t put any pressure on it. Once, when by himself, he’d attempted to stand. And oh, yeah, that had been a mistake. He’d hissed and fallen right back into his bed.

He definitely wasn’t ready for that yet.

But something he was ready for was Callie.

When she arrived, he’d had his eyes closed, and he continued to feign sleep just so he could peek at her for a second without her knowing. She’d crossed his room and messed with his array of get-well paraphernalia, tidying and adjusting the greenery and cards. As she did the sun burst in earnest, lighting up her pale blonde curls. She looked like an angel standing there.

Maybe she was one.

Or close enough.

“Hey, Callie,” he greeted her, and even he could detect the difference in his tone. She could, too.

“You sound… better this morning,” she said carefully, and he recalled how they’d spent the last few days together. He also remembered their relationship and breakup. Yet despite all that had transpired between them, she was here.

“I am better.”

He was, too. Not that he didn’t miss his wife and daughter. Remembering them like those events had just occurred had ripped him wide open. So much so that he thought he would metaphorically bleed out.

But now, he could again feel the distance, the eighteen years that had elapsed since then. It was so strange to acknowledge that he was now exactly twice as old as he’d been then. And it certainly still hurt. It likely always would. Yet maybe releasing some of that grief had—he didn’t know—helped him in some way, like drawing poison from an infected wound helped.

The pain was still there, but it was less of a sharp slashing and more of a dull ache.

“That’s lovely to know,” Callie said, still walking on eggshells. He could tell. So, he decided to end the suspense.

“I remember you now. I remember us dating.”

Her pale blue eyes widened. “You do?”

“Yes. And I remember us calling it quits.” Well, it was less of a mutual split up and more him sending her away without ever welcoming her back. Of him removing her from his life without even deigning to provide her with a second chance.

She huffed out a humorless laugh. “Probably wondering why I’m here, then, huh?”

“Not really. I also remember this past week and a half. All the time you’ve spent with me in the hospital. How you’ve treated me, taken care of me. Including last night.”

“Okay.” A wrinkle formed in the center of her forehead. It was pretty adorable.

“It showed me how little interest I have in staying that way.”

“What way?” she asked.

“Broken up. I miss you. I miss how I was with you. How Iamwith you. I haven’t been…” How did he put this? “Healthy enough for a relationship, Callie. Not mentally. Not for a long time. Not since Maria and… Hadley.”

Even now, saying his lost daughter’s name was hard. Up until now, he hadn’t been able to utter it out loud. Speaking that name in this moment felt like a cleansing. A release. One that choked him up. Yet even as his eyes burned, he managed to swallow and go on.

“But you’re good for me. And if you’ll forgive me for my regrettable behavior, I’d love for you to take me back.”