Garnet Flats (The Edens)

Tally.

No one called me Tally. Not my parents, my brothers or my friends. Everyone used my full name.

Except Foster.

He’d thought it was so fitting, not just because of my name, but because I tended to count in tally marks. I’d watched all of his fights and sparring rounds with a notepad on my lap filled with tiny lines.

Strikes landed versus strikes attempted. Kicks versus punches. Takedowns and tap outs.

The tallies had been a way for me to curb my nerves. If I was busy keeping count, then I worried less about him being kicked in the ribs or punched in the face.

Just like tallying my good days at the hospital. Those marks, even when I had to erase them, gave me a positive focus. A goal.

Tally.

I hadn’t been Tally in a long time. Until yesterday.

It was like being blasted back in time, to the days when Foster had been the biggest part of my life. The days when he’d been so close, he might as well have been the thump in my heartbeat.

And the ring . . .

Why? Why had he bought that ring? Especially if it hadn’t gone to his wife. When had he bought it?

It looked exactly like the ring I remembered, but that was impossible. He wouldn’t have bought a ring for me when he married Vivienne. But still, it was so familiar. Achingly familiar.

I’d never forget the day I saw that ring.

Foster’s boss had asked him to run an errand, to pick up a pair of earrings that was a gift for his daughter. So I’d gone with him to Tiffany’s because in those days, we’d been inseparable.

While we waited for the saleswoman to bring out the earrings, Foster and I wandered the store. He challenged me to a game. He asked me to pick out my favorite ring and he’d try to guess which one it was.

He found it on his first guess.

Because out of all the elaborate, glittering rings, he’d known I’d pick something simple and delicate.

A ring I could take on and off with ease. A ring I could wear on a chain around my neck at work without the stone digging into my skin. A ring that would look beautiful on my finger, even when my skin was chapped and dry from frequent handwashing and disposable gloves.

That had been a week before he’d told me he was marrying Vivienne.

A week before he’d shattered my heart.

He couldn’t move here. He couldn’t live in Montana. We’d cross paths. There was no way we wouldn’t run into each other on Main or at a store. Quincy was too small to avoid a man like Foster. Somehow, I had to convince him to leave. Somehow.

But first, I needed to clear my head. I needed to sort out my heart. So this morning after showering and eating a quick breakfast, I’d left the house and come to the place where I’d always found peace.

Home.

Driving in my black Jeep Wrangler, I eased down the lane to Mom and Dad’s, passing under the Eden Ranch gated archway. Beyond the fences bordering the road, the snow-covered meadows stretched for miles. Evergreens covered the mountain foothills, their branches dusted in white.

A green tractor with a round bale in its forks rolled through the pasture beyond my window. A line of black Angus cows trotted behind it, each wearing the Eden brand on their ribs—an E above a curve in the shape of a rocking chair’s runner.

I loved the ranch. I loved the open spaces and the family legacy and the animals. Throughout my childhood, I’d planned on becoming a veterinarian. I’d wanted to specialize in large animals so I could help out on the ranch with cattle and horses.

Until my junior year in high school and a wintery night had changed my destiny.

My English teacher, Mrs. Haskins, had been eight months pregnant at the time and only days away from taking her maternity leave. It had been March and a massive snowstorm had blown into town. The weather forecast hadn’t predicted its severity. One moment, we were watching heavy flakes fall to the ground, and the next, a sheer whiteout. Most roads were closed for emergency travel only, and since my family lived in the country, it was impossible for my parents to drive in and get us.

So my twin sister, Lyla, and I rounded up our younger siblings, Mateo and Eloise, to wait it out. Mrs. Haskins volunteered her house as a place for us to stay until the storm died down.

We trudged the two blocks to her home and all hunkered inside. Her husband worked for the transportation department and was out driving a snowplow, so she was happy for our company.

Until her contractions started.

We called 9-1-1 for an ambulance, but by the time they arrived, I was holding a slimy newborn baby girl in my arms.

I’d never been so scared in my life.

Maybe I’d had the courage to help because I’d been so focused on the veterinarian path. I’d watched Dad pull plenty of calves. But from that moment on, my path had changed.

Mom always said becoming a doctor had been my calling.

What if I’d gotten it wrong? What if I should have stayed here, worked here? I wouldn’t have to deal with the Rachels of the world. And I wouldn’t have met Foster.

I shook off those doubts as I neared the house. The ranch was bustling with activity this morning, the hired men getting ready to head out for their day. As a truck passed with a couple of guys in the cab, I waved, then parked beside Mom’s new Cadillac.

Every year, Dad bought her the latest model. This time, he’d gotten her an Escalade because she’d insisted on plenty of space to keep car seats for her grandkids.

“Talia.” Griffin was crossing Mom and Dad’s porch as I hopped out of my Jeep.

“Hi.” I smiled, meeting him at the base of the steps.

In one hand, Griff had a travel mug. The other he held in the air, making space for a sideways hug. He smelled like wind and soap with a hint of campfire, probably from the stove at his place. With every passing day, he reminded me more and more of Dad.

“You look tired. You okay?” he asked. Griff had taken it upon himself as the oldest sibling to make sure we were all okay. Again, a lot like Dad.

“Good,” I lied. The dark circles beneath my eyes were from two sleepless nights spent tossing and turning about Foster. “What are you up to?”

“Just dropped off the kids.” He let me go and hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “Mom’s babysitting today while I head out and get some firewood split. What about you? Not working today?”

“No. I’m on call all weekend, so I’ve got today off.” My schedule was erratic at best. The standard shifts were reserved for Dr. Anderson, and the rest of us filled in the gaps. “I thought I’d come out and take Neptune for a ride. Dad said you had most of the horses still gathered in from after they got reshod.”

“Yeah, they’re all in the calving pasture. I’ll have one of the guys bring her into the stables and get her saddled for you.”

“I can do it.”

“It’ll save you the trouble. Head on in. Get some coffee and one of Mom’s muffins. Neptune will be ready in thirty.”

“Okay.” I smiled. “That will give me time with the kids.”

“See you later.” Griff set off for the barn.

The Eden Ranch was one of the largest in the state, generations of our family having built it up. Griffin’s heart belonged to Winslow and their two babies. But beyond his family, my brother loved this land.

I couldn’t imagine him in a suit and tie, working in an office. He belonged in a faded pair of Wranglers and scuffed cowboy boots with a canvas Carhartt coat on his back and a dusty Stetson on his head.

The scent of hay and cattle drifted on the gentle breeze as I headed up the porch steps to my childhood home. My parents had both retired in recent years but this house would always feel like ranch headquarters. Past their log home was the barn my grandfather had built. Beside it were the stables and the shop, additions Dad had made when he’d been at the helm.

I pushed open the front door and inhaled sugar and blueberries and lemon. Did it smell better inside or out? They were both home. “Hello!”

“Talia, will you bring me that five-gallon bucket of flour beside the door?” Mom hollered.

“Sure.” I shrugged off my coat and hung it on an iron hook in the entryway, then hefted the bucket by its handle and waddled it down the hall. “Where do you want it?”

“By the pantry, please.” She pointed with a dough-covered finger.

I set it down, then moved around the island to inspect whatever it was she was making. “Pie? Smells good.”

“I’m getting a jump on Christmas prep. This will go in the freezer.” She kissed my cheek, then went to the sink to wash up. “What are you doing today?”

“Thought I’d come out and go for a ride.”

What I loved most about my parents’ house was that the lock on the front door hadn’t been turned in decades. They didn’t expect phone calls before we showed up. They were used to unannounced visitors and not once had they made me feel like I was interrupting.

This was our home, no matter how old we got.

I went to the cupboard where she kept the coffee cups and took out a mug.

“Guess who I bumped into at the store yesterday,” Mom said, picking up her own mug.

“Who?” I asked as I refilled her cup, then my own.

“Bonnie Haskins.”

“No kidding?” I laughed. “I was just thinking about her on the drive over.”

“She had Marie with her. That girl is growing like a weed.”

Marie, the baby I’d delivered during that snowstorm. Named for my middle name.

The last time I’d seen Marie had been at the hospital. She’d come in for her annual sports physical. “She’s so cute.”

“She’s going to give the boys at the high school a run for their money.”

“You’re not wrong.” I smiled and sipped my coffee.

This was why I lived in Quincy. So that Marie Haskins would grow up in front of my eyes. So that Hudson and Emma and Drake would be doted on by their aunt Talia.

A tiny giggle sounded from the living room. “I heard you’re babysitting today.”

“Your dad is on duty until I get this pie in the oven. But otherwise, we’re going to have a fun day. I bought finger paint.”

“You spoil them.”

“Hell yes, I do.”

“I’m going to go say hi.” I left my coffee on the counter, then headed for the living room, where Dad was on the floor with three babies. Emma, seven months old, was lying on a blanket with her toes in her hands, trying to shove a foot into her mouth.

Her one-and-a-half-year-old brother, Hudson, was smacking two blocks together. While Drake, my brother Knox’s son, was toddling around Dad, giggling as Dad tried to tickle him.

“This looks like fun.”

Hudson took one look at me and the blocks were forgotten. He shoved up on his feet and held up his hands. “Uh. Uh.”

Up. Up.

“Hey, buddy.” I swept him into my arms and kissed his cheek. Then another little boy crashed into my leg, so I bent and hefted Drake up too. My siblings always teased me for having baby fever. I wanted kids. Someday. And until that day came, these babies were my fix. “How are my guys today?”

Drake answered with a string of gibberish.

“Ah. Well, that sounds excellent.” I put them both down and sat on the floor. “Hey, Dad.”

“Hi, sweetheart. What are you up to today?”

“I came out to take Neptune for a ride.” I toyed with Hudson’s blocks, helping him make a stack.

“It’s a pretty day. Sun’s shining.” No matter what the temperature, hot or cold, Dad considered any day with sunshine a golden one.

“I thought I’d swing by the hotel this afternoon,” I said. “See if Eloise needs any help before the Christmas rush. I talked to Lyla this morning and she was oddly calm, considering how busy it’s been.”

Dad chuckled. “I thought the same thing when I talked to her yesterday. But you know it won’t last. She’ll be dead on her feet by the time Christmas gets here next week.”

The entire town was decked out for the holidays with garland and lights and trimmed trees. Lyla owned the coffee shop in Quincy and she’d spent three hours the other night hand painting Eden Coffee’s front window with snowflakes.

She had customers streaming through her door from the time she opened at six in the morning until closing at seven each night. Half were locals who’d placed special orders for holiday pastries. Half were tourists in town to enjoy the festivities.

Lyla would be exhausted by the time New Year’s was over. So would Eloise and Knox. But they’d have help. The Edens pitched in to help each other, without hesitation.

“What’s new at the hospital?” Dad asked.

“Nothing really.” There wasn’t much I could tell him, but on occasion, I’d gripe about Rachel.

Hudson threw a fist into my stack of blocks, then giggled, so I stacked them again.

“You okay?” Dad’s eyes narrowed on my face. “Something is bothering you.”

There was no point in denying it to Dad. He’d always been able to read my moods. And I’d rather him hear it from me than the Quincy grapevine. Knox hadn’t mentioned bumping into Foster at the hospital earlier this week, but chances were, it would come up sooner rather than later. We didn’t get a lot of famous UFC fighters in Montana.

“Foster Madden is in town.”

“What?” He straightened, lowering his voice. “Why? What does he want?”

We hadn’t talked about Foster in years. Knox teased me for being too private for my own good. But I was glad I hadn’t had to explain the Foster situation to everyone. It was a story I didn’t have the heart to share multiple times.

Lyla knew I’d been dating someone in college and that we’d broken up when I’d gone to medical school. Eloise knew the same. And my brothers, well . . . they avoided their sisters’ love lives.

“He claims he’s moving here,” I said. “He bought that vacant gym on Lower Clark Fork Road.”

The previous owner had gone broke when I’d been in high school, and the gym had sat vacant for years. There just weren’t enough people in Quincy to support two gyms, especially when the Firehouse had new equipment and fitness classes.

“Have you talked to him?” Dad asked.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

I shrugged. “I don’t want him to live here. But I guess I don’t have much choice.”

Dad’s mouth flattened. “You know, I thought about buying that building to flip. Damn it.”

“It’s . . . strange.” I had a feeling that even if there’d been no building, Foster would have come anyway. I forced a smile and ran my fingers through Drake’s blond hair. “I’ll be fine. It was a long time ago. Just a shock. But I’m going to take my ride. Get some air. Then I’ll be good as new.”

“Want some company?” he asked.

“I’d say you’ve got your hands full.” I bent down to kiss Emma’s forehead, then stood. “See you after a bit.”

After a quick stop in the kitchen to say goodbye to Mom, I headed outside, grabbing a pair of gloves and a beanie from my car. Then I zipped my coat up to my throat and headed for the stables.

“Your horse is all ready, Doc.” A hired hand saluted me by touching the brim of his hat as he strode out of the building.

“Thank you.” I smiled, then walked inside. Neptune stood in the closest stall. “Hey, girl.”

She huffed, butting up against my hand as I stroked her dappled gray cheek.

Neptune was one of eight horses Dad had purchased years ago. Eloise had insisted on naming them all, and at the time, she’d been doing a school project about the solar system. So each of us siblings, plus Mom and Dad, had a horse named after a planet.

“How’s my pretty girl?” I crooned, opening the door to lead her out.

We walked for a bit, out of the stables and lapping the corral before I made a few adjustments to my saddle. Then I stepped my left foot into a stirrup and hoisted myself up, settling into the seat before we headed through a gate—the hired man had opened it for me—and into a field.

Dad was right. It was a pretty day. The sun cut the chill from the air. The rays reflected off the snow, and on the back of my horse, my mood instantly improved.

“Foster is here,” I told Neptune because my horse was the best listener around. “I have no idea what he expects from me other than he wants to go out to dinner and talk.”

Neptune snorted.

“Yep. That’s what I think too. It’s all horseshit. No offense.” I loosened the reins, letting Neptune pick up speed to a trot. “What could there possibly be to say after so long?”

Neptune didn’t have an answer this time.

Neither did I.

We rode in silence for hours, weaving a wandering trail in the snow until the crisp air cleared the fog from my mind.

I took the long, familiar path to my favorite place on the ranch.

Garnet Flats.

In the spring, the meadows would be a lush green dotted with wildflowers in red, yellow, white and purple. In the summer, the warm sap from the evergreens would infuse the air with the scent of pine. In autumn, the leaves would change, coloring the mountain foothills before they slept through a white winter. One hundred acres of sheer beauty.

My dream had always been to build a home here. To experience the seasons through every sunrise and sunset. As I stared across the snow, my eyes flooded.

That dream had included Foster once.

For the first time in my life, it hurt to be here.

With a nudge of my leg and a tug on the reins, I turned away from the meadow. Neptune and I returned to the stables at a gallop, and by the time we arrived, we were both out of breath.

After I put my saddle away, took care of Neptune and led her back to the calving pasture to rejoin the other horses, I headed back to Mom and Dad’s. I didn’t want to go home, so I didn’t. Tomorrow, work would be a welcome distraction, but for today, I’d use my family.

I finger painted with my niece and nephews. Mom made me a grilled ham and cheese sandwich for lunch before I helped her put the kids down for a nap. And every time Dad made eye contact, I smiled, doing my best to reassure him I was fine.

It wasn’t until the sun was dipping toward the horizon that I finally said goodbye and climbed into the Jeep. Then I took the long way home so I could savor the pink and orange sunset behind the jagged mountains that surrounded Quincy’s valley. And by the time I turned down my street, it was nearly dark.

Just not dark enough to miss the black truck with Nevada license plates parked in front of my house.

“You infuriating, obstinate man.” I gritted my teeth and turned down the alley so I could park in my garage. After marching inside, I flew through the house and ripped open the front door to find Foster on my porch. “Why are you here?”

“Dinner.” He held up a plastic bag from our local Mexican restaurant. In the other hand, he had a bottle of white wine.

“God, you are stubborn.”

“It’s a little cold for a picnic. Gonna let me in?”

“No.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Are you seeing someone?”

“I can’t see how that is any of your business.”

“That’s a no. Come on, Tally—Talia,” he corrected. “It’s just dinner.”

It would never be just dinner. Not with Foster. “No.”

“Fine.” He tucked the wine under his arm and used his hand to dig in his pocket, pulling out that damn blue pouch. “You left this at the gym.”

“Seriously? Stop with the ring.” Didn’t he realize how hard it was for me to see it?

“It’s yours.”

“When did you buy it?”

He held my gaze. “Right after you left.”

“Why? You married another woman.” Before he could answer, I waved both hands. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. That ring has never been mine, and I don’t want it.”

“Tally.”

“Don’t!” My voice carried past him and into the night. “Don’t call me Tally like you know a damn thing about me. Don’t call me Tally like we’re old friends. Don’t call me Tally like you didn’t lie to me each and every day we were together.”

“Okay.” He sighed. “I just . . . I want to explain. Please.”

“Why? I can’t believe a word you say.”

“Yes, you can.”

“No, I can’t. I won’t. I’m an intelligent woman, Foster. I’m trusting. I’m loyal. And you made me question everything about myself. You made me doubt my intuition. My heart. Myself. So no, I don’t want dinner. I don’t want to hear your explanation. I don’t want you here. Go away.”

How long had those words been bottled up? I waited for that sweet relief, for the good feeling that should have come after yelling at Foster. But my heart . . . hurt. It hurt. Shouldn’t it feel good now? How many years had I held this anger inside? Why didn’t it feel cathartic to set it free?

“I’m sorry.” Foster swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not enough,” I whispered. “It’s not enough to be sorry.”

“You’re right.” He nodded. “I just . . . you’ve always been my Tally. It’s how I think of you. It’s what I call you in my head.”

He’d thought of me. He’d said my name in his head. The hurt doubled. Then it tripled with the apology written on his face and the regret brimming in his eyes.

This had to end. I had to be the one to end it this time. So I took a step away, gripping the door. “I stopped being your Tally the day you married my best friend. You want to give that ring to someone? Give it to Vivienne.”

It should have felt good to slam the door in his face.

It didn’t.