The Romeo Arrangement

Tobin had seen her last fall—more to scope her out as a suitable care option rather than for any real issue, I suspect—and put her on retainer as their private on-call doctor.

It’s easy to think of everything when you’ve got a full-time valet, apparently.

Tobin knew they’d eventually need a doctor out here, though, and he was right.

Now for the hard part.

I owe Ridge so flipping much, including an apology for thinking he’d been behind those media lies.

For thinking he’d ever be so ugly, so selfish, when he’s proven otherwise today a dozen times.

“He’s sleeping like a baby,” Nurse Jackie Owens says, smiling as she steps out of the bedroom.

She’s an older woman with dark curly hair, bright-green eyes, and so far hasn’t taken one bit of crap from Dad the few times he worked up the energy to fuss.

I give it a day. He’s never liked being coddled.

“I can take him, easy,” she assures me with a wink. “I’ve knocked sense into country boys from around here missing fingers and toes and still insisting all they need is a Band-Aid and a shot of Jack.”

I hope she’s right. I’m glad she’s been a nurse for thirty years and swears she’s seen it all.

“Thank you.” I truly don’t know what more to say.

It’s all coming down on me like an avalanche right now.

This day. This week. This year.

This life.

“Why don’t you get some shut-eye yourself, young lady? Sure looks like you could use it,” Jackie says, patting my shoulder. “He’s in good hands.”

A burning ache scratches my throat.

Sure, with her looking after him, Dad will be all right. But for how long?

I pinch my lips together and nod.

Needing a bit of air, I say, “I need to go check on our horses.”

And I do. I haven’t been to the barn since this morning, when Dad collapsed and Ridge nearly carried him into the house.

I put on my coat and head outside, into the darkening purple glow of evening. A somber day for the sky to look so beautiful.

Zipping my coat, I head for the barn.

“Hey,” a gruff voice calls.

The ache in my throat burns hotter as Ridge shuts the door to his house behind him, rapidly striding my way on those powerful legs.

“Hey yourself,” I answer.

He’s been back and forth between the house and the cabin all day, the same as Tobin.

Tears burn my eyes and I turn, starting for the barn again.

Not now. I’m so not ready to face him again.

“I was just going out to check the horses,” I say, fighting hard to control my pitch.

“I’ll join you.”

Of course he will.

Lovely.

But I can’t say no. In fact, I have a whole hecking lot I need to say to him.

Starting with I’m sorry.

I’ll wait until we’re inside the barn, I guess, with the horses between us. An emotional barrier of sorts. I need one bad right now.

Cornelius struts out the door, his head bobbing, as we walk around the corner of the barn. I think nothing of it until I don’t hear Ridge’s footsteps and turn, seeing he’s fallen back.

“Was the door open all day?” he asks.

“I haven’t been here since this morning,” I admit. “Haven’t even had a chance to look out the window.”

“Me, neith—Shit!”

“What’s wrong?” I step up, heart banging in my chest, and look around him into the empty barn. “Oh, no. No, no, nooo!” I shoulder around, racing into the barn, praying to everything holy that this isn’t happening. My luck can’t be this bad.

But seeing the stall doors flung open and no sign of Rosie and Stern anywhere…yep, it’s atrocious.

“Grace?”

“They’re gone. Dad…he opened the stalls before he walked outside and collapsed. He said he’d get the horses ready while I hooked up the trailer.” My heart sinks into a black pit as I spin around, staring at the open door. It might as well be a sawed-off shotgun aimed at my head. “Holy hell, they’ve been gone all day.”

Ridge sweeps forward, grabbing my arm, holding me up when I’m not sure my knees will anymore.

“We’ll find them,” he growls. “They couldn’t have gotten far. The snow’s a lot less melted in these hills and fields. They couldn’t have moved much faster than turtles out there.”

His words are hardly any comfort.

A horrible flash of the horses dead in the fields hits me, their legs twisted from uneven, icy ground.

Just when I thought my heart had nothing left to break, the last piece teeters on a cliff.

If something horrid happened to Rosie and Stern, it’ll be the end of me.

It’s growing darker by the minute.

After Ridge spots hoofprints in the snow, we’re in his truck, bouncing along barely cleaned up field roads, eyes darting around in all directions for Rosie and Stern.

The urge to curl up and die, knowing it’s my fault, gnaws at my heart.

I should’ve checked up on them.