I turned right into my street. "I wasn't going to fly out there and transfer the deed to you if you were going to ignore me. What do you need the deed for, exactly?"
She scratched out a wheezy sigh, and my eyelids cinched together in concern. "Something is off with my water rights… I think. I didn't totally understand what my ranch hand was saying but—"
"Ranch hand?" I clarified. "Not an attorney? Isn't that something you should get professional advice for?"
"Yes," she replied with clear irritation. "But I can't look into anything without the title in my name."
I tapped my fingers on my steering wheel, thinking. "Arabella, how bad is it?"
Another silence. Finally, she admitted, "I'm spending five times what I should on water for the animals. And I can't keep up."
I lifted my eyes momentarily and then turned into my driveway. "For how long?"
"I don't know," she hedged, her voice momentarily giving out.
"How long?" I repeated, killing the car and opening the door with a surge of anger. Why did she do this? Why suffer in silence and drive herself into the ground rather than ask for help?
"Most of the year," she mumbled. "We're trying, but it's not enough."
I slammed the car door, my simmering anger reaching a boiling point. The night was frigid, heavy with moisture and threatening snow. It reminded me of the night I'd shown up at her mother's house and told her we were engaged. This all felt oddly familiar. "Please tell me you've seen a doctor about your cough and you're not running around a ranch in freezing temperatures trying to haul water over to orphaned animals."
"Spencer," she ground out. "Can you get the title in my name or not?"
"Give me a minute." My house reflected my life with startling clarity. It was small, quite a bit humbler than most of my peers' homes, and devoid of any real sentiment. One story, modern construction, and dotted with masculine touches, it held almost no significance to me other than a place to crash between long hours at the hospital. I opened the front door and tossed my car keys into a ceramic dish on a narrow foyer table. As I closed the door and unbuttoned my coat, I said, "Let's pretend for a moment that you don't have to do everything alone."
Don't abandon her.
"I do everything alone, Spencer. I like it that way. This is why I didn't call you. I knew you'd want to beinvolvedor whatever, and I don't want that." She coughed again, a rattling, tight sound that scraped along my nerves uncomfortably.
I shrugged off my coat and hung it up on a hook in the foyer. "No one can be alone forever, Bee. You don't have to like me—"
"I don't."
Lies, I thought with a spurt of amusement. "But you do need my help. Admit that and I'll bring the title to sign over to you."
"I donotneed your help," she replied stubbornly, and I could imagine her bristling, her narrow back straightening.
"And go to the doctor."
"I don't need any of that," she shot back.
God help me. This woman was impossible. "Okay," I replied simply, going deeper into my clean home and flicking on lights as I went. I meandered to the kitchen, leaning on the granite counter. "You don't need me and you don't need a doctor. Got it."
"Spencer," she groaned.
I was waiting for the "please." It never came. "There's no shame in teaming up now and then, you cactus fruit."
"Forget it," she wheezed, and I cringed again as a violent cough rattled over the phone. She hung up in the middle of her coughing fit, and I frowned at my phone. The gears in my brain were going, churning out solutions to the information I'd just been given by Arabella. I'd tried giving her space. I'd given it to her for a year. But clearly, she was level-headed about everything but her own welfare.
The more I thought about helping her, the lighter my heart felt. I'd been operating under a crushing weight for months, and suddenly, the clarity of a firm decision lightened my burden. I could do something about this. I could make a crazy move, make a crazy choice, and follow my instincts.
I pulled up Rook's number and called him on speakerphone, waiting while it rang. The lease agreement for an office space in Park City sat within arm's reach. I dragged it over just as Rook answered. "Hello?"
He sounded like he'd been asleep. "You old geezer. It's like nine o'clock."
"Is there a point to this call?"
"I realize you aren't her father or anything, but how would you feel about me violating your sister's privacy, barging into her life, and forcing her to accept help?" I flicked through the thick sheaf of papers, perusing each of the empty lines waiting for my signature.
