Page 18 of Branded Mountain Man
"Marcus always."
Sloan was quiet for a long moment, studying his face. When she spoke, her voice was gentle, understanding.
"You were partners," she said.
"That's what partners do. They save each other."
"He saved me. I got him killed."
"You both made the same decision. You both took the same risk. The only difference is luck."
"Luck." Colt laughed, the sound bitter and broken. "You call it luck that the better man died and the failure lived?"
"I call it tragedy. I call it the kind of random cruelty that happens in dangerous jobs." Her voice was steady, certain. "I don't call it your fault."
"You don't understand?—"
"I understand perfectly."
She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a business card.
"My number. Not my work number. My personal one."
Colt stared at the card like it might bite him. "Why?"
"Because I'm not giving up on you."
"You should."
"Maybe. But I'm not." She pressed the card into his hand, her fingers warm against his palm. "If you ever want to stop punishing yourself. If you ever decide Marcus would want you to live instead of just exist. Call me."
"Sloan—"
"I mean it." Her voice was fierce, determined. "I'll be waiting."
She turned and started down the trail again, moving with renewed purpose. Colt watched her go, the business card burning in his hand like a brand of its own.
This time, he didn't follow.
But as her figure disappeared around a bend in the trail, he found himself thinking about what she'd said. About Marcus wanting him to live instead of just exist.
About the possibility that maybe, just maybe, she was right.
SLOAN
Two weeks later, Sloan was sitting in her office in town, staring at a report she couldn't seem to finish writing.
Subject displays signs of chronic isolation and unresolved trauma related to the death of a colleague. However, he appears physically healthy and competent in his current role. His living conditions are adequate, and he has made significant improvements to the fire tower infrastructure.
While subject would benefit from professional counseling, he is not an immediate danger to himself or others. Recommend follow-up assessment in six months.
The words looked stark and clinical on the page, completely inadequate to capture the reality of Colt Ramsey. How did you write about the way he'd touched her like she was precious? How did you quantify the careful way he'd made her coffee, the protective stance he'd taken whenever she'd moved too close to the platform's edge?
How did you put heartbreak into a government form?
It was a lie, and they both knew it. Colt needed help—real help, not the kind of band-aid therapy she could provide during a routine check-in. But forcing him into treatment wouldn't save him. It would just drive him deeper into the mountains, further from any chance of healing.
She had to believe he'd come to that realization on his own. Had to believe the man who'd held her so carefully wasn't completely lost to his own guilt.
