Page 11 of Fern’s Date with Destiny (Heart Falls Vignette and Novella Collection #4)

C ody had never thought the phrase too good to be true would fit his ordinary ranch life. Yet here he was. Daily chores and worthwhile activities mixed with catching Fern’s laughter like sunshine, stealing kisses when no one was watching.

No one blinked at the time they spent together. Not Tansy, not Ivy, not Fern’s parents. They all thought he and Fern were just friends.

Maybe they did have the word tattooed on their foreheads.

Some days he almost believed it himself. If he didn’t look too closely. If he didn’t notice how everything took an extra heartbeat now when it came to spending time together.

This early December morning the ranch was hushed under fresh snow, pale sunlight slanting through frost-tipped trees behind the arena. He paused in the feed shed, breath misting in the quiet, and stared at his left hand as the grain scoop he held jittered uncontrollably.

Cody shook out his wrist, glaring as if that would bully it back to normal.

It calmed. His mind didn’t.

Not even an hour later, out by the corral fence, he waved to a couple headed out on a trail ride, and his left shoulder locked up like a rusted hinge. He managed a smile for the paying customers, but his brain shrieked in fear.

Back in his cabin that night, he sat post-shower on the edge of his bed. His clean flannel shirt was nearly buttoned, but he’d fumbled the last button three times before giving up.

Cold wind rattled the window behind him, snow hissing across the sill.

What. The. Hell.

His phone buzzed on the mattress beside his knee. Fern’s name bloomed on the screen like a promise.

Fern: You. Me. Leftover pie and a sappy Christmas movie. Tonight.

He should have leapt for that. But his hand jerked when he reached for the phone, the tremor flaring as if mocking him.

He typed carefully, cursing inside as he awkwardly used one hand.

Cody: Rain check. Long day. Early night.

He hit Send and hated himself.

She sent back a pouty emoji and three heart stickers. He almost broke and said Screw it, come over, but he couldn’t. Not until he knew what the fuck was happening to him.

That night, as the barn lights glowed faint behind the living room window, Cody sat hunched over his laptop, the hum of the cabin heater filling the silence.

He typed hand tremor into the search bar. Then hand tremors in men under forty. Then loss of fine motor control.

Maybe it was stupid, going online, but he didn’t know what else to do. This first, surely.

The hits he got back were quick and clear. Mayo Clinic. Parkinson’s Foundation. Patient forums where strangers poured out stories that tangled in his gut.

The tremor started on one side. Slowness of movement. Progressive.

No cure.

Cody scrubbed a palm over his face, catching his reflection in the dark window. He looked older than he should. Tired. A tightness lingered in his neck now too. An ache that wouldn’t quit even when he rotated his shoulders.

The page blurred. He didn’t realize his thumb was jumping again until he reached for the mouse and knocked it to the floor. It skittered under the bunk like a small, cowardly thing.

“It’s probably nothing,” he told the flickering cursor.

The cursor blinked back, patient, yet unbelieving.

The next morning, he was on the phone with Dr. Sydney Jeremiah’s clinic. It took a couple days before he got a phone appointment, reciting symptoms to her in a voice that felt wrong. Far too confident, far too level. “I’d appreciate you not mentioning this to anyone yet,” he added.

“Of course not. Your body, your choice applies to everyone.” Dr. Jeremiah listened. Calm, kind. Promised she’d get him a consult as soon as she could, but it probably wouldn’t be until the New Year. “Try to keep your stress levels low, Cody. We’ll figure it out.”

“Sure,” he rasped, staring out the barn office window at the pale sun clawing through snow-covered pine branches. A cold wind rattled the siding. Horses moved like shadows at the far fence, steam rising from their backs.

He didn’t say anything to Fern because… What was he supposed to say? I seem to be falling apart at the seams .

He dodged her texts for a few days with excuses. Fence checks, extra work with bookings at the ranch, needing extra rest. Every lie left him emptier than the last. He couldn’t bear to open his yap and talk to her, though.

Talking made it feel real.

He didn’t want real.

But not talking to Fern took far too much energy. Not being with her felt as if he had a limb missing, and the irony of that thought didn’t escape him.

Which was why two days later, he scrolled flight options with numb fingers while the wind howled outside the cabin door.

When he found what he was looking for, he booked it fast: Dublin. December 20th. Return date flexible. The cursor pulsed like a heartbeat he couldn’t slow down.

He told Zach, Karen, and Finn because the people paying his salary absolutely needed to know he was running off with barely a moment’s notice.

Cody still didn’t tell Fern. Not yet.

Chance caught him wrench-deep in the baler behind the arena on a brittle Tuesday morning. Snow squeaked under Chance’s boots as he leaned into the open bay.

“You lost your mind, wee brother?”

Cody grunted, not looking up. “What do you want, Chance?”

Chance crossed his arms, expression sharp as the cold. “Not that he was telling tales out of term, but it came up in passing. Now I’ve heard and now I know. Zach says you’re bailing to Ireland for Christmas. Family reunion I’m not invited to? Or something you’re not saying?”

Changing position, Cody swore as his shoulder muscles froze. The bolt he’d loosened slid from his fingers and clinked off the frame.

His left hand just couldn’t hold it.

“Just wanted to see my mom,” he lied. “And Dad, of course.”

Chance eyed him. That seeing-right-through-you look only an older brother could perfect. “You sure it’s not about Fern?”

Cody scraped grease off his palms with a rag. “Leave it, Chance.”

“You’re not denying she means something to you.”

“Drop it,” Cody ordered with a hint of desperation.

A quiet settled, broken only by the horse paddock gate clanging somewhere behind them.

Finally, Chance’s voice softened, the Irish burr thick. “You’re an eejit. Some messes are worth sticking around to fix.”

Cody turned away, pretending to hunt for a wrench. Pretending his whole chest hadn’t squeezed at hearing that single truth.

Long after his brother left, Cody sat on the bench by the arena. The cold wind bit through his warmest jacket. He forced his left hand flat on his thigh yet watched as a faint tremor danced through the fingers.

He wanted Fern. He wanted her so bad his teeth ached with it. But wanting and deserving weren’t the same thing.

Cody shut his eyes and pictured Fern’s smile. The one that made him hope for forever.

Worth the mess, Chance said. Cody wasn’t so sure he was.

She’s worth everything, he thought. So he’d care enough to let her go if that’s what it took to keep her whole.

The snick of Fern’s Bluetooth stylus whispered through the gallery’s upper rooms. Below, Chance’s voice drifted up now and then as he led a small school group past the new landscape series.

Outside, Heart Falls slogged through an unexpected mid-December drizzle.

Neither snow nor rain, just enough slush to smear the windows and grey the sky.

Fern forced herself to focus on the layout proofs for the spring art auction pamphlet. She highlighted an entire paragraph, deleted it, rewrote it, deleted it again.

Cody hadn’t texted in three days.

Not since she’d sent him a dumb selfie. Her wrapped in a scarf with frost on her eyelashes, teasing him to come rescue her from freezing in the parking lot. Normally he’d fire back some smart remark. Instead…

Nothing.

Downstairs, the front door chimed and soft laughter mixed with the hush of December wind. A few minutes later, Chance’s shoes thudded up the stairs.

He ducked under a hanging display of dried paper lanterns and propped himself against her desk. His expression was soft but edged in that big-brother caution Fern had learned to spot.

“Got a sec, sunshine?”

“Always.” She twisted her stylus between her fingers, heart picking up speed. “What’s up? If it’s about the promo?—”

“It’s not gallery stuff.”

Chance dragged a stool over, flipped it backward, and straddled it, arms folded over the backrest. He looked every inch a scruffy Irish artist. Paint under his fingernails, hair barely tamed by a halfhearted tie at his nape.

He didn’t look like a hammer blow, but that’s what his next words felt like .

“Cody’s gone home for Christmas.”

Fern stared. “Home— you mean Red Boot? Or Toronto?—”

Chance’s eyes softened. “Ireland.”

The stylus slipped from her fingers, clattering on her tablet. “What? When?”

“He flew out this morning.”

A rush of confusion and something cold crawled up her neck. “Why didn’t he say— I mean, he didn’t?—”

“He didn’t tell you,” Chance finished gently. “Aye. I told him he was a feckin’ eejit for it. For the record.”

She opened her mouth. Closed it again.

“For how long?” she asked, her voice smaller than she liked.

Chance shrugged one shoulder. “Didn’t say. Maybe a couple weeks. Maybe more.”

For a moment, the bright lights of the loft seemed to flicker. A pulse behind her eyes she blamed on the gallery lighting. She blinked until the room sharpened again.

“I thought—” She bit the inside of her cheek. You thought what, Fern? That he was too happy to leave you? She’d made a wrong assumption at some point.

Chance must have read every word of her silence. He reached across the desk, brushing his knuckles against hers.

“I’ve known for a while, you know.”

Her breath hitched. “Known what?”

“That you two are daft about each other.” His grin creased the corners of his eyes. “It’s not exactly subtle, little sister. Well, not to me, anyway.”

Fern laughed, except it cracked in the middle and turned into something watery. “Does Rose know? About us being daft?”

“No. Which surprises me because she’s usually more aware of things of the heart.” Chance gave Fern’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Your reasons to stay quiet are your reasons. Same for him. But I told him not to run. To fix whatever is wrong instead of hiding like a stubborn mule.”

She swallowed, her throat gone tight enough to hurt. “Why didn’t he say goodbye?”

Chance hesitated.

In that small moment of uncertainty, Fern had plenty of time to mentally list all the reasons Cody probably hadn’t willingly put words to. Pride. Fear.

That quiet, heavy need he had to carry the weight alone.

“Don’t exactly know, but he’s a good man,” Chance said softly. “Too good sometimes. Since you’re not acting as if you two had a row, it’s got to be something else. I’m pretty sure he loves you enough he thinks leaving is somehow protecting you.”

Love . There was a word they hadn’t even started to toss around, and yet…

She let the idea sink in, while outside, sleet hissed against the windows.

When she finally looked back at Chance, her voice was calm, but her heart banged around her ribs as if it wanted to leap straight across the ocean after his brother.

“I don’t need protecting,” she said.

Chance’s smile curved lopsided. “Aye. Tell him that when you see him again.”

Fern pushed to her feet and squared her shoulders. Her reflection in the glass beside the hallway looked the same as always. Black curls, warm eyes, arms hanging loose against her sides, no hiding or apology in her stance.

Same person she was a few hours ago. Except she was getting damn tired of waiting for the universe to get its shit together.

She bent to hug Chance, squeezing until he grunted.

“Thank you for telling me,” she whispered into his flannel shirt.

“Thanks for making my brother smile more than I’ve ever seen,” he murmured back. “At least until he lost his fecking head.”

She stepped away, grabbed her bag from under the desk, and made it halfway to the stairs before Chance’s voice floated after her.

“You gonna chase him?”

Fern paused, hand on the railing, a spark of determination flickering to life in the hollow Cody’s absence left behind. But he’d chosen this, so she’d honour that. At least for now.

“No,” she called back. “But when he comes home, he’d better be ready.”