Page 41 of Shattered Melodies

He sighed, a wistful note creeping into his voice. “We had forty good years together, me and Abby. Raised a couple of kids, built a life. It wasn’t always easy, but it was always worth it.”

I felt a lump rise in my throat, a swell of emotion that I couldn’t quite name. “What happened to her?” I asked softly, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Hank’s smile turned sad, his eyes misting over. “Cancer. Took her quick, in the end. One minute she was here, laughing and singing and giving me hell. And the next…”

He trailed off, shaking his head. “It’s been ten years now. And not a day goes by that I don’t miss her, don’t wish she was still here with me.”

I reached out, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Hank. I had no idea.”

He patted my hand, his callused fingers rough and warm. “It’s alright, kid. Like I said, it’s a part of me now. A part of who I am, who I’ll always be. And I wouldn’t trade a single memory, not for anything in the world.”

We stood there for a moment, the weight of his words hanging in the air between us. And then he clapped me on the back, the twinkle returning to his eye.

“Now, enough of this sappy shit. We’ve got work to do, and daylight’s wasting. Let’s get back to it, yeah?”

I grinned, feeling a rush of affection for this gruff, wise old cowboy who had become more than just a boss to me over the years.

“Yeah, Hank. Let’s get back to it.”

And so we did, working side by side in the cool dimness of the stable. But as we shoveled and hauled and sweated, I couldn’t stop thinking about what he had said.

About love, about loss. About the way some things never really leave us, no matter how much time passes or how far we try to run.

And I realized, with a sudden flash of clarity, that maybe that was okay. Maybe the pain and the heartache and the bittersweet ache of memory.

Maybe they were all just a part of the journey, a part of what made us who we were.

Scars and all, mistakes and triumphs alike.

A part of the beautiful, messy, complicated business of being alive.

When we finished, I turned to Hank with a hopeful grin. “Think I could take Drumstick out for a bit? He’s looking a little restless.”

Hank raised an eyebrow, a twinkle of amusement in his eye. “Just don’t get him all dirty again. I just spent the better part of an hour getting him spic and span.”

I laughed, already heading for the tack room. “No promises, boss. You know how we like to roll around in the mud.”

He shook his head, but I could see the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Get out of here, you rascal. And be back in time for lunch, you hear? Your mama will have my hide if you’re late.”

I tipped my hat in a mock salute, grinning from ear to ear. “Yes, sir. Wouldn’t want to face her wrath.”

And then I was swinging into the saddle and heading out into the bright, wide-open spaces of the ranch.

I let Drumstick have his head, feeling the wind whipping through my hair and the sun warm on my face. There was nothing quite like the freedom of riding, the sense of power and possibility that came with being in control of such a magnificent beast.

We rode for miles, checking on the herds and the fences and the far-flung corners of the property. But even as I went through the motions of my daily routine, my mind kept drifting back to the old Denison place.

I couldn’t help myself. I had to see it, had to know what was going on over there.

So I guided Drumstick up to the top of a hill that overlooked the property, my heart pounding and my palms sweating on the reins.

And there it was. The house that held so many memories, so many ghosts.

It looked different now, with fresh paint on the walls and new shutters on the windows. There were trucks parked out front, and I could see people moving around inside, carrying boxes and furniture and all the trappings of a new life.

But even with all the changes, all the signs of renewal and rebirth. It was still the same house. Still the place where Liam and I had laughed and loved and dreamed of a future together.

A future that had never come to pass, a love that had been lost to time and circumstance and the cruel twists of fate.

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