Hours later? A day? Two days? I smell the heavy scent of city, dancing, and alcohol. No one in Kansas smells like this. I hear a familiar voice say, “Gage, it’s me. I came to see you.”
I slowly rise out of healing sleep, focus my view on the figure next to my bed, and take in Corey Cassidy for the first time in what feels like forever. He’s in a pair of denim jeans, plaid shirt, and my cowboy hat.
Smiling, warmness waves inside my torso. Bubbles of nervousness float along my arms and neck. Everything feels lighter, happier, and smoother. All the bad from my rodeo accident seems to wash away in a split second with Corey at my side. An honest feeling of relief and bliss finds my soul, and I murmur with tears in my eyes, “That letter I wrote. I’m sorry for leaving it behind, Corey. I don’t
