Page 45 of Love Bound

"And Devon and Laurel tried to run The Inn?"

"Yes, with Travis, but he actually liked helping Geo in the clinic more. I'd come back one weekend a month. Then, when I was in vet school, I'd come back every weekend to make sure Travis stayed on track. But we couldn't keep The Inn. By the time I was nearly done with vet school, Devon and Laurel had closed it up and Travis was finishing high school."

We pass the last intersection that T’s into the main road and head straight to the bay.

"Geo moved out of the apartment above the clinic and did an early retirement thing the year I came back. We shared the practice," she says.

"Was there backlash about you being a woman?"

She shakes her head. "Not really. More than half the vets in Maine are women now."

"Really? All those crusty old-timers trust you?"

"Well, I think it's my age more than my sex. There are a few big animal farmers who still think I'm an idiot. Or delicate."

My side starts to quiver and then breaks into a dull, escalating throb. The waves of needling pain knock down some boundaries because even as I ask, there's a part of me wildly alert I am on thin ice. "What happened to Chloe?"

She points suddenly. "Oh, look out. The black ice is worse after the Route 42 T-off." I feel her glance at me. "You were a little out of it when we left this morning. I was going about fifteen miles an hour." She rests her chin on her knee.

We hit an icy patch and the truck fishtails for a second.

"Slow it down, mister." Her leg slides down. Both her hands are in her lap now.

I become overwhelmed with needing to share something with her. To show her a piece of me. Maybe then, that quicksand that is Chloe won't seem so treacherous to her. I try to control my voice so it doesn't quiver. "Reach under your seat."

"What?"

"Just reach under your seat," I repeat.

With that little pinched forehead, so cute and so transparent, she reaches with one hand beneath the bench seat.

"You'll need both hands," I tell her.

"I just feel paper." Keeping her gaze on the road, she reaches down and starts to remove the paper bag. "Geez, what is this thing? Heavy as hell."

"Open it."

She glances at me, her forehead still knitted and sets it in her lap.

I can't smile, but I try to reassure her. "Don't worry. It's not a gift."

The sound of paper being pulled mixes with a soft gasp. "Oh, Finn. Finn." Her gaze shifts from the flat piece of granite covering her lap, to me, and back to the slab of stone.

I glance quickly at the stone, to the names engraved there: "Two Hearts in Mine: Allison and Kenny."

"The garden?" she asks.

All I can do is swallow and nod.

She rubs the surface of the smooth granite with her hand. "It's beautiful."

"Most of her family won't speak to me," I explain, not to be melodramatic, but just to be truthful. "But her grandfather used to be a stone carver and he made this for me when I signed the paperwork on The Inn. He's the only one who still wants a connection." Turning left, I ease the truck over the bumpy, weather-gouged dirt road and the truck lobs to the left and right, pulling my stitches. Despite myself, a small hiss escapes.

She lays a hand on my thigh and immediately, a hot current runs straight to my groin. "Slow it down," she says. "Almost there."

I pass The Inn and pull into the clinic driveway. It's Sunday and the little parking area is empty, so I can get right up to the front door.

"I don't want to put this back under the seat. It seems wrong," she says.