Unbreak My Heart (Rough Riders Legacy #1)

The doc looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

“He has to go,” I croaked out.

“Sergeant West is here by government order, finishing the last few days of his training stint in rural healthcare that the army requires for medical personnel at his level.”

She didn’t have to explain that to me. In fact, I really didn’t want to know why he was here.

Doc sighed and took my temperature, which tipped the thermometer at a toasty 103 degrees. She checked my eyes, my ears and my nose. She pressed her thumbs down the center of my neck and beneath my jaw. She listened to my lungs. Lastly, she shoved a tongue depressor in my mouth and shone a light in my throat while demanding I say aaaaah.

She patted my knee. “It appears you’ve got strep. But I’ll send Sarah in from the lab for a throat culture to make sure.”

No wonder I felt shitty and none of Rielle’s natural home remedies had worked on me.

Doc Monroe poked the call button before she plopped on the rolling stool and typed on her laptop.

I stared at my knees, grateful I wasn’t wearing a drafty exam gown that left me even more exposed.

To Boone fucking West.

Two knocks sounded on the door.

Boone stepped aside as the lab tech hustled in.

“One quick swipe is all I need,” she chirped merrily.

I gagged when she jammed the long cotton swab into my throat and swirled it around.

Then she took a blood sample and said, “All done,” with way too much fucking cheer.

She exited the room and Doc Monroe stood in front of me. “It’ll be about fifteen minutes until I get the lab results. Why don’t you lie down?” Doc pulled out the exam table extension.

After I curled up on my side, she covered me with a blanket. Part of me wished she acted cold and clinical instead of showing maternal concern.

The door shut with a soft click.

Everything ached. My throat was almost swollen shut so it hurt twice as much to cry. But the tears leaked out anyway.

“I’m still here,” Boone stated.

Go away.

“Since you can’t talk, you’ll damn well listen.”

He’d gotten bossier from his years in the military. But he must have struggled with whatever he wanted to say since he remained quiet longer than I expected.

“Of all the places in the country I could’ve chosen to complete this training assignment, I elected to do it here, in my hometown, because I wanted to see you again. Even when I suspected you’d kick me in the balls at best, or you were in a relationship with some undeserving douchebag at worst.”

I hated that he admitted that his worst-case scenario was seeing me involved with someone else. Right then, I wished I had a hot, rich boyfriend with a big dick to flaunt at him.

“I don’t know what surprised me more,” Boone continued. “To find out that you actually changed your last name from Daniels to McKay—which is why, with all the damn McKays around here, I didn’t know the S. McKay on the patient chart was you—or that you no longer live in Sundance.”

Even if my vocal chords hadn’t been raw and nonfunctioning, I wouldn’t have responded. What could I say? He expected me to defend my choice to test my business skills beyond the Wyoming border? Screw that. He’d left for the very same reason. I owed him nothing.

“We’re not done with this, Sierra. Not by a long shot.”

His footsteps squeaked on the linoleum. The door opened and closed with a soft click.

I knew I was alone.

Nausea rolled over me. I closed my eyes.

I just needed fifteen minutes and this nightmare would be over.



When Doc Monroe woke me, I didn’t know where I was.

Then a cough and burning in my throat reminded me.

“You tested positive for strep,” the doc said, helping me sit up.

Goodie.

“Two treatment choices. A ten-day cycle of penicillin in pill form or a shot of penicillin.”

“A shot,” I whispered.

“Good choice. You’ll feel better faster. You want me to prescribe a cough suppressant?”

I shook my head.

“Rielle’s opinions of western medicine have rubbed off on you.”

My father’s wife preferred natural remedies whenever possible. Most people attributed that mindset to her hippie-like upbringing. But the truth was before she married my dad, her financial situation dictated she find fast and cheap alternatives. She and I laughed that she’d rather be seen as a hippie than a cheapskate.

The doc pulled out a syringe and a vial of clear liquid. She attached one to the other and looked at me. “Drop your drawers. You get this shot in the butt.”

Great. I hooked my thumbs in the waistband of my yoga pants.

Just then, three fast knocks sounded on the door before it opened a crack. “Doc, we need you right away in six.”

“Dammit.” She gestured to the needle in her gloved hand. “Get someone in here to do this.”