Free The Rancher's Second Chance by Victoria James Page B

love, but she hadn’t counted on the depth. It was in every word that he spoke about her. The pain he felt, the loneliness he felt, it was palpable. She could never compare her life to his or her loss to his, but she could understand the loneliness.
    “That must have been so hard,” she whispered. He gave a brief nod of acknowledgment. She frowned when he downed another glass. It appeared that Cole became a talker when he was drinking. If she wanted to, she could entertain the idea that maybe it was something about her that caused him to open up like this.
    “How’s your ankle?”
    Ankle? Good God, as if she was thinking about her ankle now. “It’s fine. I think whiskey might even be better than ibuprofen.”
    He had already retrieved the cold pack from the freezer and sat down beside her again. “Well, let’s just be safe anyway. Give me your ankle.” Of course, she did as he asked and inwardly cursed her sorry state. She was pathetic, especially when she almost sighed out loud when he grasped her bare skin again and settled her leg on his thigh. He motioned for the bottle and she refilled his glass, concentrating on making her hand steady.
    Melanie took another long drink herself and struggled to find something to say. “Cori always told me how much she loved Sarah like a sister. It wasn’t fair, what happened to her.” She didn’t know if her sympathy or words would be appreciated.
    “Sarah was, uh, too young. Too young to go that fast. You know you’re living your life, taking for granted that you’ll see tomorrow. She was fine one day, and the next we were getting a cancer diagnosis at the hospital. And she fought because she was tough. A fighter. She wasn’t one of those women who was afraid to get dirty, to get a chipped nail or care that her hair was out of place. Designer clothes and manicures and all that crap meant nothing to her. But even she wasn’t strong enough to fight this. And I used to look at her and think why couldn’t some asshole be the one to die? Some murderer or rapist in jail? Why her? She was a good person.” Melanie closed her eyes against the emotion in his voice and when she opened them again Cole was staring at her.
    He shot her a half smile that was filled with emotion. “Pretty bad, huh?”
    Melanie shook her head. “I’d say that sounds like a normal reaction. I’m sure you’re not the only one who thought like that.”
    “When she died, I wanted to go with her. I remember standing there thinking I wanted to jump into that grave with her. I didn’t want to leave her alone. I didn’t want to be left alone,” he said, looking down, the honesty making her breath catch.
    “It took me a year to realize she was gone for good. A year for my instincts to remember. It’s like I had to remember that when I rode home, she wouldn’t be there, that the dinner table would be missing someone. That every damn morning I’d wake to an empty bed. It took me a year to get rid of her things. I used to go to her grave every day just to be close to her, to talk to her. Tell her what was happening with the business. I’d bring her flowers.” He stopped talking for a moment and just looked at her. Melanie quickly wiped the tears from her face and crossed her arms.
    “And on the one year anniversary of her death, I sat at her grave and drank. Gage found me, late at night, and I thought he was going to convince me to leave, give me some garbage about not honoring her, but instead he sat down beside me and finished off the bottle of whiskey. Stayed with me the entire night. Then Cori came and found us the next morning and hauled our sorry asses home. And she gave me the lecture of not honoring Sarah’s memory. That was the last day of my self-pity. I knew I either had to sink or swim. So I learned how to live without her. I was married five years, and I’ve been single since. I’ve gotten used to it. I like it. I know Cori and Mrs. H think it’s because I haven’t moved on, but