Sunlight (Haven River Ranch)

“We’re set for next October,” I told the bride on the other end of the line, my office phone sandwiched between my shoulder and ear so my hands were free to scribble on a sticky note.

Hamilton wedding weekend October 29th

“I’ll pass your information along to our event coordinator, but please feel free to call me if you have any questions.”

When she ended the call, I put the phone away and shook my mouse, adding the wedding party to our reservation system. Then I kicked off an email to Marsha, the event coordinator, and crumpled up my neon-yellow note.

Next October, the bride would be getting married. And I’d have a one-year-old daughter. My hand splayed across my bump.

Even with the loose blouse I’d paired with jeans this morning, there was no hiding my belly. Not that I wanted to hide it.

I wasn’t ready for this baby, but I was getting there. Slowly. Day by day, I was getting there.

Jax was a big part of that progress. He was the balancing force I’d been missing for so long. He was the place I could lean when the world flipped. He took everything in stride and nothing too seriously.

Maybe it was rubbing off because the past month or so together had been the best I’d had in, well . . . ever.

Even with my frantic work schedule, I was relaxed. He relaxed me.

There were five other sticky notes scattered across my desk, each from different phone calls I’d taken this morning. My inbox was swamped, and I had a few voicemail messages to return. But they’d have to wait.

My stomach growled. Where was Jax? Maybe he’d decided to take the day off like I’d suggested this morning. Maybe he’d finally admitted to himself that he was sick.

I picked up my phone, about to send him a text, when it buzzed in my hand.

Micah.

“Hi,” I answered immediately, shifting out of my chair to cross the room and close my office door. “Thanks for calling me back.”

“Hey, Sasha. No problem. Sorry it took me a few days.”

“That’s all right.” It was always a few days from the time I left Micah a message to when he called me back. I was trying not to take it personally. “How is he?”

“He’s good.”

The air rushed from my lungs. That was the first time Micah had ever said something positive. “Can I talk to him?”

“Not yet.”

My momentary relief and joy died a quick death. “You said after three to six months, we’d be able to talk. It’s been over nine.”

“Three to six is what typically happens, but every individual is different. Eddie needs more time. This is a long road he’s walking. I’m not going to push him until he’s ready.”

Meaning, Eddie didn’t want to talk yet. And I needed to stop pushing. “All right.”

“Keep writing letters.”

The letters. The stupid freaking letters. Micah always deflected to the letters.

Letters that never received a reply. Letters that were still too short. Letters that felt like chucking a piece of my soul into a void. But if that was what it took, then I’d keep writing.

“Okay.” I sighed. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. Take care.” He hung up on me first.

I set my phone down and stared at the screen saver. It was a grainy black-and-white photo of the ultrasound pictures. It had been there for weeks, but I could still see the photo it had replaced. It was like the pictures were layered, and if I squinted enough, the photo of Eddie and me would peek through.

The screen saver used to be us together on a rare day when we’d both been happy. We’d snuck away to the beach and asked a stranger to take a picture. Our arms had been wrapped around each other. His cheek had rested on my hair. And we’d smiled. Real, happy smiles.

It was the last time I remembered us both smiling together.

It was nearly two years ago.

I opened my desk drawer and took out a piece of paper. Then I wrote a letter, tore off a piece of my heart, and sealed it in a plain white envelope.

The mail went out every day, but these letters weren’t something I wanted mixed in with resort business, so I tucked it in my tote for the next time I drove into town.

My stomach growled, louder this time. So I pulled up Jax’s name, about to text him when once again, the phone buzzed first.

West.

He’d never called me before. Not once. My stomach dropped, dread creeping down my spine.

“Hello?” I answered, already standing and picking up my tote.

“Hey, Sasha.” There was a gentleness in his voice.

The gentleness that came with bad news.

“Is it Jax?”

“Yeah. It’s Jax. He’s okay. But my dad is coming to pick you up at the lodge.”

I swallowed hard, my head starting to spin. “And bring me where?”

“The hospital.”

“You weren’t supposed to call her.” Jax shot his brother a glare from his hospital bed.

I blinked. “I’m sorry. What did you say? You weren’t going to call me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

“You have a concussion and a dislocated shoulder.” My nostrils flared as I tossed out a hand. “You’re in the emergency room.”

“They relocated the shoulder, and it’s not my first concussion. I’ll live. Be good as new in an hour. Don’t get worked up about this, sweetheart.”

“Do not”—I pointed at his face—“call me sweetheart right now.”

He held up his free hand because the other was in a sling.

“You shouldn’t have been out riding,” I said. “You’re sick.”

“I’m—”

“Fine?” I finished for him, my voice cracking.

My heart was beating too fast. My head hadn’t stopped spinning since the moment West had called to tell me he’d found Jax’s horse without Jax. And when he’d tracked down Jax, he’d been sitting in the middle of a field, having just woken up after being knocked out.

Maybe another woman would have pandered to him. Would have peppered his face with kisses and cried tears of joy that he was okay.

When I’d arrived at the hospital, I’d calmly asked the doctor for a full rundown of Jax’s injuries and a detailed explanation of his recovery plan. The moment the doctor had left the room, there’d been no kissing or crying. Not when the red haze of fury descended.

I was so mad I couldn’t see straight.

“Sasha, I’m fine,” Jax said. “I promise.”

“Our location would suggest otherwise.” I paced at the foot of his bed, wrapped my arms around myself to hide the shaking. The tremors had started in my fingers, then spread to my hands. They’d worked their way up my wrist and forearms, moving to my shoulders like they were taking me apart one inch at a time.

“You scared me.” I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “You got hurt and didn’t want me here.”

“Babe, I’m okay. Come over here and sit down.”

I shook my head, worrying my bottom lip between my teeth.

West and Jax shared a look, but I ignored it and kept pacing.

What if West hadn’t found him? What if that phone call had been different? What if—

I squeezed my eyes shut to block out the what-ifs. I kept them closed so tight it made my head ache. It was pointless. Nothing could erase the sterile scent of the hospital. There was no shutting away the noise of nurses working beyond the closed curtain.

“Sasha, I think you’d better sit.” West put his hand on my arm, steering me toward a chair.

“I just . . . need some air.” Before he could stop me, I shrugged off his grip and ducked through the opening in the curtain.

“Shit. Get me the fuck out of here,” Jax clipped.

“If you leave, it will take twice as long to get discharged. Stay put. I’ve got her.” It was a woman’s voice I heard, familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Not over the sounds of machines beeping and people talking.

I didn’t turn to see who was following me. I kept walking, past the red exit signs until I was outside, breathing summer air that smelled like fresh-cut grass. A lawn mower buzzed in the distance as I walked to a bench outside the emergency room’s doors and sank into the seat.

Then I squeezed my eyes shut again, this time focusing on my breathing. In and out. Over and over. Until my head stopped spinning. Until the shaking ebbed. Until my heart climbed out of my throat.

The sunlight was blinding when I opened my eyes, so bright it took me a second to realize I wasn’t alone.

Lily sat on the bench at my side with a brown paper bag in one hand. “Need to breathe in this?”

“No.” I sucked in another deep breath. “I’m not good at this. When people I care about get hurt.”

“Most aren’t,” she said. “But you did good. You kept it together until after you spoke to the doctor. Most fall apart before they even get to that point.”

I sighed. “I didn’t realize you were in there.”

“Curtis called me. I was, um, hanging back.”

Had that been her decision? Or Jax’s?

“He shouldn’t have been riding,” I said. “I should have made him stay home.”

“Nothing you could have done would have kept him home. Trust me. Jax hates being sick. He was always the kid who refused to admit he didn’t feel good. He never wanted to miss out on anything.”

That was a mother’s observation.

“Why wouldn’t you let him call you Mom?” The question flew out of my mouth before I could swallow it down. “Sorry. That’s none of my business.”

“It’s okay.” She gave me a sad smile, then stared into the distance. “If I could go back in time, I’d do a lot differently. Not wait so long before I owned my mistakes. That was a mistake.”

Me too. If I could go back, I’d change so much.

“Have you ever had your heart broken?” she asked.

“Yes.” Though probably not the way Curtis’s affair had shattered hers.

“I love Jax. Very much.” She patted my knee. “He’ll make a wonderful father. And if you’ll let me, I’d love to be part of this baby girl’s life. I realized that if I don’t make amends, if I don’t fix this, I’ll miss out on her.”

Yes, she would. “That’s Jax’s decision, Lily.”

“I know.” She did her best to hide it with a smile, but there was defeat in her gaze. Like she expected to be as removed from my daughter’s life as she was from Jax’s.

And she knew the only person to blame was herself.

For the first time since Jax had told me about their history, my heart went out to Lily. It wasn’t right how she’d treated Jax. But she knew that too.

Maybe it was too late to repair that much damage.

For my own sake, I hoped there was no such thing as too late.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yes. Thanks for sitting with me.”

“Anytime.” She stood, the paper bag in her hand crinkling.

I shoved to my feet, about to head for the doors, when I turned and found Jax’s blue eyes waiting.

“Discharged?” Lily asked, pretending like he hadn’t been listening to our conversation. How much he’d overheard I’d have to find out later, but from the stony look on his face, it was plenty.

“Yeah,” he told her. “Dad’s going to drive us home. West is still inside.”

“I’ll, uh, go find him.” Lily walked past him, slowing to put her hand on his arm.

The touch was brief, no more than a brush of her fingers on his skin, but Jax didn’t jerk away.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I ever said that,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, Jax.”

Maybe that hope I was holding for myself would hold for them too.

He dipped his chin but otherwise didn’t speak as she walked away, leaving us alone on the sidewalk.

He’d shoved a few folded papers into the back pocket of his jeans. With his good arm, he rubbed a hand over his jaw, then he blew out a long breath. “I have a concussion. I dislocated my shoulder. And I’m sick.”

“No kidding,” I muttered, closing the distance between us.

As soon as I was within reach, he hauled me into his chest.

I buried my nose in his shirt, breathing in his scent. “Sorry I freaked out.”

“Sorry I scared you.”

It wasn’t the injury that had scared me. It was him.

I needed him.

I needed Jax more than I’d ever needed another person.

“Can I call you sweetheart now? Or are you still too mad at me?”

I shrugged. “Give it a try, and see what happens.”

“I’m okay, sweetheart.”

He was okay. We were okay. If there was a shred of anger left, it faded away.

I tilted my chin up, staring into his beautiful eyes. Then I rose up on my toes for a kiss. “Let’s go home.”

Eddie,

I’m sorry. I should have told you I was sorry a long time ago. Micah called me today. He told me to keep writing these letters, but I don’t know if I should anymore. Do you want me to just disappear from your life? Leave you to move on? If you do, before I stop, know that I’m sorry. For everything.

S