Page 74 of Careless Hope
“Hey, look at me,” I said, cupping her cheek with a hand that I prayed didn’t tremble. “I’m right here with you, and I’m not going anywhere. Help is on the way and Jim will answer for what he’s done.”
In that confined space, the pounding was a relentless reminder of the threat lurking just beyond. It was as though Jim’s fists were trying to drum into us that there was no escape, no reprieve. But I wasn’t about to let him win, not today, not ever.
I couldn’t do much for her leg with what I had here except make a simple splint. Having something to do, something that came so automatic to me, helped me to stay calm.
“Caroline, you okay?” Lily’s voice was a whisper, barely audible over Jim’s rage outside.
“I’m fine,” I lied, the words automatic. The truth was a tangled mess of anxiety and resolve. My hands, which could stitch a wound with precision, finally succumbed to shaking in fear. My mouth, usually full of medical jargon and reassurance, felt dry and empty.
I tried to focus on the solid facts, the things I knew: Lily needed me. Help would come eventually. And yet, the doubts swirled like dust devils in my mind—what if Walker didn’t get the message? What if he was too far away? What if?—
I closed my eyes for a moment, attempting to steady my breathing.
“Caroline . . . ” Lily’s grip on my hand tightened, pulling meback from the precipice of panic. Her touch was a lifeline, grounding me in the present, in the duty that lay before me.
“Right here, Lily,” I said, forcing confidence into my voice.
A lull in the banging jolted me, and for a fraction of a second, hope surged. Maybe Jim had given up? But then, another violent strike against the door splintered that hope as quickly as it had appeared.
The door frame buckled with a bone-jarring thud, the heavy sound reverberating through the small back room like a warning bell. My breath hitched, and I could feel Lily’s trembling form pressed against mine. We were cornered, the thin veneer of safety splintering with each strike from the other side.
I turned off the light, encasing us in darkness.
“Caroline, what do we do now?” Lily’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of our dire situation.
“Shh, just stay quiet,” I said, my own voice steadier than I felt. The responsibility to keep us safe weighed down on me, as tangible as the stethoscope usually slung around my neck. My father had handed me his legacy within these clinic walls, not just to heal, but to protect. And I’d be damned if I didn’t live up to that.
A crash against the door sent splinters flying, and I flinched, feeling a sharp sting on my cheek. Panic clawed at my insides, dark and unyielding, but I shoved it back down, forcing myself to focus. This was no time for fear. This was a time for action—for doing whatever it took to ensure Lily and I made it out of this.
“Jim, please!” Lily’s plea broke through the tension, her words laced with desperation. “Stop!”
But the only answer was silence—thick, heavy, the kind that filled your ears and set your heart racing. It was worse than the pounding, the absence of noise somehow more threatening, suggesting Jim was concocting some new plan to get to us.
“Is he gone?” Lily’s question hung in the air, a fragile hope that I didn’t dare touch.
I strained my ears, listening for any sign of movement, any hint of what might come next. But there was nothing, just the sound of our uneven breathing.
“Stay back,” I instructed in a whisper, inching towards the door, ready to face whatever awaited us. My fingers found the cool metal of a scalpel tucked away in my pocket—a poor excuse for a weapon, but it was all I had.
As I strained to listen for any movement, ready to confront whatever was on the other side, every memory of the place I called home rushed through me—the rolling hills, the smell of fresh hay, the comforting solidarity of community—and how fiercely I wanted to preserve it all, to fight for it.
Then, out of the silence, a subtle click echoed, chillingly close. And then, the gunshot.
25
Walker
Steam fogged up the mirror,blurring my reflection as I stepped out of the shower, water dripping from my hair onto the worn-out bathmat. Wrapping a towel around my waist, I wiped a clear patch on the glass with the side of my hand and squinted at the man staring back at me.
I had a plan, one that involved Caroline Cressley and the best damn chicken pot pie in Whittier Falls. I was going to tell Caroline how I felt tonight. I just hoped that the offer of her favorite dinner from the diner would soften her up enough to consider being with me for real.
I pulled on my jeans, the fabric soft from years of wear. My mind was set like a post in hard ground; I was done being the town’s good-time cowboy. I was ready for something real. I was ready to tell the whole damn world I was in love with Caroline.
Slipping into a black t-shirt, I imagined Caroline’s surprised smile when I’d tell her my dreams for the ranch were coming true. I was creating something real and lasting. And maybe, just maybe, she’d see that I could be someone worth taking a chance on.
Buttoning up a flannel over my shirt, I grabbed my boots, sitting on the edge of the bed to pull them on. I had been rehearsing what to say all morning, the words looping in my head like a lasso. “Caroline, I know I’ve got this wild reputation, but there’s more to me than that. I want to show you.”
The phone buzzed on the nightstand, and my heart did a little two-step. It was Caroline. She hardly ever texted first and hadn’t texted at all the past couple days since she ended things. Grinning like a fool, I thought maybe it was fate that she was reaching out. I unlocked the phone and tapped the messages icon.
