Falling Again for the Animal Whisperer by Becky Wicks

Author:Becky Wicks [Wicks, Becky]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2020-12-11T12:51:18+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

‘PARACETAMOL... ASPIRIN... I need something.’ Her nerves were shot. ‘Cole, where do you keep your medicine?’ She knew he couldn’t hear her as he was in the shower.

She pulled open the middle drawer, the top drawer, the bottom drawer... Nothing but cutlery, pens, cables, dog treats. He hadn’t told her where it was. He’d insisted he was fine, but she knew he’d be in pain soon enough, if he wasn’t already.

They’d ridden the horses back slowly, with Blaze beside them. Cole was bleeding under his jacket, she’d seen it when she’d peeled it off him as soon as they’d reached the cabin, but he’d brushed off his injury. ‘Go shower, get warm,’ he’d told her.

So she had, and now she was back. How could she leave him? Russell was in the hospital, and she could tell Cole blamed himself for not checking on Blaze sooner. She knew the way his brain was wired. He would never blame a horse.

You could have lost him. He could have drowned.

The thought was like a knife wound to her heaving chest as tears threatened to consume her.

‘Where would you keep your medicine?’ she said to his kitchen walls, moving mugs and coffee flasks, and an empty bread bin. Cole would keep the medicine somewhere odd, she thought, like under the sofa.

Her eyes caught on something under the bench by the door, covered in jackets.

Dropping to her knees in her track pants, she pulled out the bright red medicine kit and flipped the latch under the huge white cross. Paracetamol. That would have to do.

She slid the box back, but it was stuck now, jammed halfway out. Reaching behind, it her hands landed on something smooth, made of glass. She pulled out a photo frame covered in dust and swept a hand across it.

Cole and her, sitting on Mustang, bareback.

She fell on her bottom, holding it.

There was another box, she noticed now—the box his stetson had arrived in. She slid it out from under the bench and sifted through photos from their summers together. He’d kept all these?

One fell out.

There was Cole, looking up at her from the floor, leaning with his arms crossed and his leg kicked back against a red tractor. She was behind him in the photo, grinning from the driver’s seat. It must have been taken the first summer they’d met.

There was Casper in another one, just as she remembered him in his trademark waxed cotton cap and quilted moleskin jacket, with one arm around her shoulders and the other holding a chicken.

Another photo. Her and Cole at twelve or thirteen. She recognised Chesil Beach—this must have been the day they’d gone on a fossil hunt. She held it closer, studying his tanned hand wrapped tightly around hers on their bucket of treasures. That had been around the time that parts of her had started tingling in anticipation of his touch. Just his hand, hauling her up to a rock for a photo, had felt like another moment in heaven.

Another photo.

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