him. Colt Rafferty, waiting at the footbridge over Angel Creek. Waiting, she knew, for her.
Not where could she go. To whom. To him. To those broad, strong shoulders and gentle, cradling arms. Arms she knew she could count on to hold her and protect her and save her from her demons, if only for a little while.
“Colt.” He turned to face her when she called his name, and just as she expected, his arms opened wide. When she reached him, they wrapped around her and hugged her tight, and Sage thought that maybe, just maybe, she’d be able to breathe again.
“What is it, sweetheart? What happened?”
“I don’t … I can’t … can we get out of here?”
“Sure.”
He kept her tucked against him as he led her toward Cottonwood Street, but when he would have gone south, toward the gallery, she stopped. She didn’t think Rose would follow her to continue their conversation, but just in case, she said, “No. You’re at Creekside Cabins, right? Can we go there?”
“Whatever you want.”
They turned north. The cabins were only half a block away, and in moments he was ushering her inside. When he tried to let her go, she refused to let him do it.
Sage reached up and pulled his head down to hers and captured his mouth in a hot, desperate kiss.
She dragged him over and onto the bed. She yanked at his clothes, tugged at her own, and took him. It was fast and furious and fierce, and when it was over, they rolled apart, lying next to each other, breathing hard.
Colt rose up on his elbow. “I feel so used.”
Sage groaned aloud, then rolled over onto her stomach. She pulled the pillow over her head and wanted to disappear. I can’t believe I did that. I all but attacked him. Her voice muffled, she said, “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not,” he said, his voice filled with cheer. “That’s the nicest thing to happen to me in weeks. Feel free to use me anytime. Often.”
He reached out and stroked his hand gently down the indentation of her spine. “Why don’t you tell me about it, Sage?”
“I can’t.” After a moment’s silence, she rolled over. Staring up at the ceiling, she said, “Rose has cancer.”
“Ah, baby, no. How bad is it?”
Finally, the tears came, flooding her eyes, but she blinked them back. “She said the prognosis is good. I didn’t stay to hear any more. Colt, I am such a lousy human being.”
“Why do you say that, Cinnamon?”
“It’s so complicated. We have so much hurt between us.” In fits and starts, she explained, “See, before he died, my dad and I … well, we had a fight. Except, it wasn’t exactly a fight. He got angry. Disappointed in me. It hurt.” After a long pause, she added, “Really hurt.”
“Ah, Sage.”
“Then he had a stroke and I didn’t handle it well and Rose, well, we sorta broke.”
“This was after you returned from Africa?” he clarified. When she nodded, he continued, “I’m not the right kind of doctor to make a diagnosis, but it sounds as if you had a textbook case of depression when your father died. Rose didn’t cut you any slack for that?”
“I didn’t tell her. No one knows, except for you.”
He remained quiet, his silence giving her statement extra import. “Don’t you think that could be part of the problem?”
“I can’t talk to Rose. When I say our situation is complicated, that’s a mild term to use.”
Colt blew out a breath, then linked his fingers with hers and brought her hand to his mouth for a kiss. “While I’m always—and I do mean always—glad to sacrifice my body for the cause, I really think you should consider talking to someone with some letters behind her name about what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours.”
“I tried therapy.” She tried to pull her hand away. He wouldn’t let her go. “It didn’t work for me.”
“Maybe you need a different therapist.”
Anxiousness began to replace the inner calm left in the wake of their sexual storm. “Maybe I do. Maybe sometime I’ll go that route, but not now. Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not ready.” She sat up and pulled the white sheet up over her breasts. “You know, if I have enough time, I might whip this thing on my own. That’s my intention, and I’ve been doing fine lately. But this thing with Rose—having her show up out of the blue, her news tonight—I wasn’t prepared.”
“That’s the way life is, sweetheart. You can’t always