Wind in the pines. The hooting of an owl. The distant bugle of a bull elk. The warmth of Winona’s hand in his.
“We should go.” Winona released his hand and hopped to the ground, her tone of voice light, her gaze averted. “I need to check on the bear cub, and we’ve got an early morning.”
“Right.” He stepped to the ground, closed the tailgate, then opened her door.
“Thanks.” She started to climb in, then stopped. “If you hadn’t made that promise, would you at least consider spending time here with me?”
It hurt even to imagine that scenario, but he understood why she was asking. She wanted to know whether she meant anything to him beyond sex.
“I would. Hell, yes, I would. I care about you, Win. But Ididmake the promise, and nothing can change that.”
“It’s getting chilly.” Making a valiant attempt not to seem upset, she climbed into the passenger seat.
But Jason knew her better than that. He closed her door, walked around the front of the truck to the driver’s side, at war with himself, a sense of guilt twisting in his chest. But why should he feel guilty? He’d been honest with her from the beginning. She’d known he couldn’t stay.
You knew she’d get hurt if you got involved with her, but you did it anyway.
His next thought stopped him mid-stride.
What you didn’t know was that you’d get hurt, too.
Fuck.
He climbed into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and turned up the heat. “Let me know if you’re still cold.”
Then he headed down the mountain and back into Scarlet.
* * *
Fighting a sense of gloom,Winona gave the bear cub antibiotics and morphine, then cleaned its enclosure, speaking softly while she worked. “I’m so sorry, little one.”
It sniffed, watched her, bawled, in pain and missing its mother.
While the morphine kicked in, she mixed bear feed with seeds and wild chokecherries and thawed venison scraps in a bowl. At this age, the cub had been weaned off its mother’s milk and ate bear food—bugs, carcasses, berries, mice, wild honeycomb. When it had healed, Winona would move it to an outdoor enclosure, isolated from other staff, and help it learn to forage so it could be released into the wild next spring.
She gave the bear its food and went to check the other animals. The beaver and the raccoon seemed to be having a conversation, the raccoon trilling and cooing, and the beaver making little humming noises that sounded almost human.
“That’s why the Ojibwe call you ‘little talking brother,’ right?” She was happy with how the beaver’s lacerations were healing. She would be able to remove the splint from the raccoon’s leg next week. “You’ll both be ready to leave me soon, won’t you?”
She meant the words one way when she said them, but they resonated in an altogether different way.
Jason would be leaving soon, too.
At least she understood why now. He was the last of his line on the O’odham reservation, the last member of his family to still live in their ancestral land. More than that, he’d made his grandmother a promise on her deathbed.
Winona knew that her non-Native friends in Scarlet probably wouldn’t understand why Jason couldn’t just forget all of that and move to Scarlet. But Winona respected his reasons. She couldn’t ask him to break his word or leave his homeland.
She took off her lab coat, washed her hands, then grabbed her keys. But instead of locking up and walking home, she sank into a chair in the lobby, fighting tears.
I care about you, Win.
She cared about him, too. She cared too much.
She couldn’t do this to herself or to Jason. She couldn’t cry and ruin the evening for both of them. She couldn’t let the anticipation of the loss she’d feel when he left steal what time they had remaining. But, oh, it was hard.
She drew in one slow breath after another until she felt in control of her emotions once more. Jason was here now, and she needed to keep her mind and heart in the moment. If all they had was another week or two, she would make every day—and every night—count.
Then an idea came to her.