their gazes met, she looked away.
Wouldn’t you know she’d be the first person he saw?
Maybe he shouldn’t have come at all.
Hoping to buy a little more time before he faced Logan, Sawyer halted steps away from the milling group of wedding guests—and saw his grandfather coming toward him with a slight limp.
“Well, I’ll be. Sawyer McCord.” Sam studied him, then looked down at his own navy blue jacket and the white rose boutonniere in his lapel. “Wouldn’t be shocked if you didn’t recognize me in this getup. But what happened to you?”
“Guess like Indiana Jones, ‘it’s not the years, it’s the mileage.’”
In the past few weeks, while dealing with so much death and destruction, Sawyer had probably aged ten years. He hoped that didn’t show, but it probably did.
Sam had changed, too. His still-thick hair had a few more gray strands among the dark brown, and there were lines in his face Sawyer hadn’t seen before. But his blue eyes had stayed as sharp as ever and he was still whipcord lean. “When you were kids, no one could tell you apart from Logan.”
“They will now,” Sawyer said.
Sam’s voice hardened. “About time you showed up.”
“I would have come sooner, but...” He trailed off.
He didn’t want to think about, or remember, his final screwup thousands of miles from here. The clinic he’d cofounded with his partner in Kedar was always in danger of attack from rival tribes, but bullets and bombs weren’t the only means of devastation there. That huge landslide had brought half the mountain down, isolated the village and destroyed more lives than it should have. The disaster had tested his skills to repair, to heal, to save. And despite his lifelong urge to always step in, to help, Sawyer had failed. Was he as good a doctor as he’d believed he was, or—in violation of his Hippocratic oath—had he done more harm than good?
He tried to quiet his unruly thoughts. “How’s your leg, Sam?” According to Logan, a few months ago Sam had been thrown by one of his bison cows that took offense to him getting too close to her calf. Now, Sam’s cast was obviously off but his muscles must still be weak, even withered. At his age, full recovery would take time.
Sam was tough, though. “Good enough,” he said.
Sawyer could almost hear someone say, Go on, you two. At least slug each other on the arm as men do to show affection.
But he was afraid to move. Sam didn’t, either. They hadn’t parted on good terms, to put it mildly. Over the years since Sawyer had left the Circle H instead of taking over the ranch, finished medical school, then based his practice overseas, they hadn’t exchanged a single word. If Sam or Logan—or Olivia—had read about the landslide in the papers or online or seen the coverage on TV, they wouldn’t have known he was there. And although he’d felt tempted to let them know he, at least, was unharmed, Sawyer hadn’t tried to get in touch. He wouldn’t worry them. There was nothing they could have done, except worry.
Sam continued to study him. “Never thought I’d see you again. Don’t know if my heart’s up to the shock.”
Sawyer’s throat tightened but he didn’t say the words. I love you, too, Pops. Maybe he no longer had the right to call him that. He wasn’t sure Sam or the others cared about him anymore. His fault.
Without another word, his grandfather stomped back across the lawn to join a group of other ranchers and their wives. A moment later, his laughter floated on the warm night air to Sawyer, excluding him. He hadn’t been here twenty minutes and he was already in trouble with Sam. Nothing new.
He looked toward the spot where Olivia had been standing moments ago. In a wisp of filmy skirt and a silken swirl of blond hair, she was gone. He hadn’t missed the look in her eyes, though. She was no happier to see him than Sam seemed to be.
He squared his shoulders, then plunged into the crowd, greeting former friends he hadn’t seen in years. People, like Olivia and Sam, he’d never thought he’d see again.
* * *
THE LOUD MUSIC—the band played hard rock almost exclusively as the night wore on—made Olivia’s head hurt. Sipping at her single glass of champagne, which she didn’t really care for, she stayed on the fringe of the festivities, counting the minutes before she could leave. Avoiding Sawyer. Avoiding her father.
He and her stepmother had arrived from Dallas only that morning, her brother had told her. While she was glad her father had found a better life with Liza, she didn’t want to talk to him. Or to her, either.
Olivia was still here only because Nick had balked at leaving.
“I’m having fun!” he’d shouted. Then he’d run off again with his new best friend, headed for the refreshment tables.
Olivia had left her gift in the ranch house, and she wished she could go home now. Other people were beginning to drift toward the makeshift parking lot on the far side of the yard, the hard packed dirt area beyond the grass that led to Logan’s barn. She heard laughter, talk of some upcoming doings in town, a promise here and there to get together soon.
“Are you hiding?” Sawyer’s familiar voice snapped Olivia to attention. “I never thought of you as a wallflower. Yet here you are, keeping away from everyone. Or someone,” he added, obviously meaning himself.
She looked away. “I’m about to leave. It’s way past Nick’s bedtime.”
“Your son,” he said.
She nodded. “Your nephew. The one you’ve never met.”
That didn’t surprise Olivia. Sawyer had cut and run long ago, and he hadn’t come back—until now. Which reminded her of Nick’s mostly absent grandfather. Her dad hadn’t seen her son in a year. Nick was far closer to Sam Hunter, not that she would keep Nick from her father if he ever decided to play devoted grandpa at last.
She fought an urge to squirm. Seeing Sawyer appear so suddenly again had been a shock, but she hadn’t confused him with Logan for more than a second. Olivia had always been able to tell the twins apart when most people couldn’t. They had the same dark hair and deep blue eyes and almost identical builds, yet Olivia could see subtle differences. Their physical resemblance was strong but, for her, superficial.
Logan, who’d become a professional test pilot, was steady and calm; Sawyer was more intense and impulsive. She couldn’t deny he was an attractive man, to put it mildly, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him again, and Olivia wasn’t in the mood for a heart-to-heart chat—or anything else.
She searched for Nick, then spotted him marching around the yard carrying a big piece of cake in a napkin. The band launched into yet another earsplitting tune and Olivia took a step. “I’d better go.”
Sawyer stopped her. “So this is how it will be, Olivia? Come on, I’ve already been stiffed by Sam. Haven’t talked to Logan yet. Why not spare me a minute here? It’s been a long time. Tell me how you’ve been since...the last time I saw you.”
“Fine,” she said. Her personal life was certainly none of his concern. Never mind that they’d once been friends. That had ended a long time ago in a field between
