Broken Rock

by K. A. Finn

  Chloe sighs and lowers the binoculars then climbs back to the ground. She toys with asking her gran about the man. She knows everyone in the area but thinks better of it. As with the rest of her family, the second they get the slightest whiff of a love interest for her they pounce. If she asked her gran, she knows Dorothy would try to find him so she could set them up. That’s one way to scare away any potential men.

  She’ll just have to try to bump into him herself. Chloe nearly laughs at that idea. The mere notion she’d be able to saunter up to a stranger and ask them out is ridiculous. Her sister is the confident one. Steph would have no problem asking anyone out. Chloe preferred to hang in the side-lines and watch as every suitable single guy was snapped up while she tried to motivate herself to act. And she’s also assuming the guy on the horse is single, which she very much doubts.

  She looks back up the beach, but the horse and rider are a dot in the distance.

  ∞

  Tate opens his eyes and stares up at the dark figure looming over him. He curls into a ball as the blows come, hard and fast, bruising his skin and breaking his bones. He pleads for the man to stop, but he doesn’t. The more he begs, the harder the man hits him. Tate turns his head and sees the woman crying in the corner, screaming at the man.

  The man grabs his shoulders and starts shaking him. Tate buries his head under his arms and begs the man to let him go.

  ‘Relax, Tate. It’s me. It’s me.’

  The bedside light turns on and Tate scrambles up the bed, slamming his back against the headboard. He wipes his sweat-soaked hair off his forehead and takes a few deep shaky breaths. His dad is sitting on the edge of the bed looking seriously worried. ‘You okay? You were shouting in your sleep.’

  ‘I’m good. Thanks. Just a bad dream. You go back to bed.’

  ‘What was the nightmare about?’

  ‘I can’t remember.’

  His dad quietly looks at him and Tate has no doubt he doesn’t believe him for one second. ‘You fancy watching some TV for a bit?’

  ‘I’m grand. You go back to bed.’

  ‘Tate-’

  ‘I said I’m grand!’ He curses himself and takes a few breaths to calm down. ‘I’m sorry. I’m just tired.’ His father nods then gets to his feet and closes the door behind him.

  Tate climbs out of bed and goes into the en-suite. He splashes water on his face, trying to clear the remnants of the nightmare away with little effect. In frustration, he slams his hand against the sink.

  ‘Fuck!’

  Four months and the nightmares are getting more vivid by the day. Who’s he kidding? It’s not a nightmare. It’s a memory coming back to him. Something from his past that he had locked deep in the back of his mind. Now it’s been set free, he can’t shake it. Can’t shake the feelings it brings back. Can’t get rid of the helplessness, the absolute terror, the crippling guilt that the woman is dead because of him.

  He’d pushed too far. He’d wound up the man who was maybe his father, maybe not. He doesn’t know for sure. What he does know is that she was trying to protect Tate from him and now she’s dead.

  Tate makes the mistake of glancing down at his hands and sees her blood smeared all over them. He closes his eyes and takes a slow, deep breath before looking down again. The blood is gone.

  He pushes off the sink and shuffles back into the bedroom. There’s no way he’s going to risk sleeping again tonight so instead he slumps back on the bed and turns on the TV. The choice is limited at four in the morning, so he flicks through looking for anything half decent to take his mind off the dream.

  Instead he finds a music channel playing one of their songs. He’d usually change the channel, but not today. Nothing like reminding himself what he’s lost to cheer himself up. Seems he’s in luck today. It’s a whole hour of their songs. The next song comes on but he can’t remember the words. He doubts he’d remember the chords either.

  Fuck this. Staring at the TV until morning isn’t going to improve his mood. After throwing on an old pair of jeans and hoody, he creeps outside, wincing as every footstep seems to find a creaking floorboard in the old house.

  Once he makes it outside without waking everyone, he locks the door behind him, and breathes in the cool morning air. He loves this place. Not just his parents’ house, but this stretch of coastline. He’d grown up here and, no matter how long or short his breaks from work were, he made it his business to come back here every single time.

  There was something about the rugged, unspoilt beauty of the place that calmed him. His life was... had, been crazy. When he was working, he could be going for twenty-two hours straight for days at a time. His schedule was gruelling, but he would never complain. He loved what he did but needed a break from time to time. Needed to be with his family and not worry about his celebrity status. Here he’s just Tate. Now he’s not so sure who he is anymore.

  Tate’s mood lifts when he nears the stables around the back of the hay shed. His black Irish Draft, Jove sticks his head over the door and snorts loudly at him. He rests his forehead against the horse’s head and rubs the side of his face.

  ‘Morning, buddy. Fancy blowing off some steam?’ He saddles his horse and leads him out of the stable and across the yard towards the welcoming sound of the waves crashing on the beach.

  He waits until he’s out the small gate to the path that leads to the beach before he climbs up and adjusts the stirrups. Since his career took off, he hadn’t had as much time for things like this. His grandfather got the orphaned foal from a friend years ago and Tate had instantly clicked with the animal. Two lost souls who had been given a second chance.

  Gran and Pops had always joked they were made for each other. Something his mother didn’t quite agree with. She thought the Draft was far too big for Tate, but then Tate didn’t stop growing for quite a bit. When he finally stopped he was a shade over six-foot-three, and more than a match for the impressive horse.

  He guides Jove along the path and down to the vast beach. The smell of salt and seaweed instantly soothes him. Jove knows exactly where he’s going so Tate sits back and tries to turn his brain off. The gentle waves lap around Jove’s legs as he wades into the sea, stopping just as the water hits Tate’s boots. He couldn’t care less if he’s getting wet. Being on Jove like this with no one else around is the only thing that calms him. Who needs expensive therapists when you’ve got a horse and a beach?

  Jove gets a little impatient, so he guides him nearer to the shore, turns him towards the far headland and adjusts his grip on the reins.

  ‘Time to blow away the cobwebs. Ready buddy?’

  Jove stamps his feet, desperate to stretch his legs. He taps Jove’s side and he picks up pace, faster and faster until the crashing of hooves in the sea drowns out all the screaming in his head.

  ∞

  Chloe sits in the grass with her notebook on her lap, watching the man on his horse. He had more than piqued her interest when she saw him from her gran’s garden high on the cliff, but from the same level it’s a whole other story.

  She’d visited the beach around six am for the last three days and for each of those days he’d made an appearance. So much for sketching the wildlife. Since the minute he appeared, nothing else around her had been able to hold her attention as much as he does. She’s still working on the same drawing she’d started when she arrived.

  Chloe ducks down in the grass careful not to be seen. It looks like he beat her down here today. He’s already been for a swim and is walking at the water’s edge, followed by the enormous black horse. Not much of a horse expert, Chloe had been amazed how the horse followed the man along the beach like an overgrown dog. The man stopped, so did the horse. He walked and the horse fell into step beside him.

  He comes out from behind the horse and faces the animal. Chloe smiles as he rests his forehead against the horse’s head and talks to it. Something about him is familiar but she can’t figure out what. She seriously doubts they’ve met before. There’s
little chance she would forget an event like that.

  Whoever he is, he’s breaking her heart. She’s seen him kick at the sand, watched as he rocked himself, his hands buried in his hair. Something is tearing him apart. Something happened or is happening that he can’t deal with. Something he can’t get through.

  She feels terrible spying on him, but she doesn’t want to leave him alone. He’s suffering. She’d never forgive herself if something happened to him when he was alone down here.

  He mounts the horse and it wades into the sea until the water is half way up the man’s legs. As the horse pushes through the sea, the man reaches over and runs his hand through the water. Chloe can’t take her eyes off him. Her heart is doing a crazy dance in her chest at the sight. She can’t think why. It’s just a gorgeous guy in the sea on his horse. Nothing to get excited about.

  A slightly larger wave hits, soaking him, but all he does is laugh and brush his wet hair off his face. Nothing at all sexy about the image in the slightest. Just like there was nothing sexy about him emerging from the sea, waves crashing around him, the water droplets clinging to his toned chest and stomach that first day she saw him. Nope, not sexy at all.

  All too soon, he guides the horse to the edge and gallops back down the beach and around the corner. ‘See you tomorrow.’

  She gathers her pencils, stuffing them into her rucksack and walks back along the beach and down the path to where she parked the truck. She stops by her gran’s battered pickup and rummages in the bottom of her bag for the keys. As usual, they prove to be illusive, hiding among the pencils and pieces of paper.

  ‘Damn it.’

  Chloe freezes when she hears a loud snort behind her. She grimaces and slowly looks over her shoulder. The black horse is standing on the path opposite the one she came from. The man is on its back and he’s even more breath-taking close up. A lot taller than she initially thought too. His dark blue eyes are serious as he looks down at her from the back of his equally large horse.

  Instead of staring into his eyes, or at his face, or his broad chest, she looks down at his legs. His jeans are wet and covered in sand as are his boots. She can feel his dark eyes boring into her as she dumbly stares at his legs. She has to say something before this goes from just plain awkward to seriously awkward.

  ‘Hi.’ She looks up at his face but instead of responding he continues to silently look at her. ‘Sorry. I’m just looking for my keys.’

  ‘They’re on the ground at your feet.’

  His deep husky voice is a perfect match for him, but does nothing to steady her school girl nerves. ‘Thanks.’ Chloe picks her keys off the ground and shakes the dirt off. ‘I know this beach is private, but it’s stunning. The beach I mean. Anyway, I am sorry for trespassing, but I couldn’t resist the scenery.’ She feels her cheeks burning. ‘The scenery around here it’s pretty special. Is it yours? I mean, is the beach yours?’

  He frowns and slowly shakes his head. ‘No.’

  Chloe blows out a breath. ‘Phew. So we’re both trespassing. That’s a relief. I won’t tell if you don’t.’ Oh dear god would you please shut up. She hears the words pouring out of her mouth but doesn’t appear to have any control over the embarrassing uncontrollable babbling.

  ‘I’ve got permission from the owners.’

  She nods. ‘Ah. Right. Well that’s different. Can you please forget you saw me? I won’t come back. I promise.’

  ‘You’re not local.’

  ‘No. I’m here for a few months. My grandmother lives a few miles up the road. I presume you’re from around here. Unless you have a horse trailer hidden somewhere.’

  He pauses and his frown deepens. ‘Yeah. I’m from around here.’

  ‘It’s a beautiful area. The wildlife is spectacular.’ She pats her rucksack. ‘I draw in my spare time. Well, I try to.’

  He nods but doesn’t say anything. Instead of listening to common sense. She lets her mouth take control. ‘I mainly like to draw landscapes and wildlife, hence coming down here.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Great. Okay, so I better go before the actual owner finds me here.’

  He nods again and guides the horse away, up the path and around the corner. She waits until he’s gone before she closes her eyes and bumps her head against the car window.

  ‘What the hell was all that?’ Maybe if she’d been prepared she could have come out with something a little more intellectual than mentioning the fact she’s trespassing then rambling on like a nervous teenager. Great way to leave an impression for all the wrong reasons.

  She pulls open the door and climbs inside. Probably best she avoids this place for a few days. Maybe given enough time he might just forget the entire conversation. Not that it could really be called a conversation. More like an embarrassing interaction.

  Still cursing herself, Chloe turns the key but the engine whines and dies. She glares at the centre of the steering wheel and tries again. Same whine then nothing. She slams her hand against the wheel, jumping when the horn blares out.

  ‘Oh come on!’ She tries again and again, cursing the vehicle and anything else she can think off.

  Finally giving up, she rests her head against the steering wheel and closes her eyes. She screams as a knock sounds on the window. Chloe frowns at the figure beside the car but her brain takes a ridiculously long time to make the connection. The man tilts his head down to look in the window as his horse watches from just behind him.

  She rolls down the window and smiles apologetically. ‘Sorry. I hope I didn’t startle your horse.’

  ‘He’s fine. You okay?’

  ‘Yeah. Well, no actually. The damn thing won’t start.’

  ‘Open the bonnet.’

  She bends down and locates the lever, watching out the window as he disappears under the front of the pickup. ‘Is it serious?’

  The man grunts from under the bonnet. ‘Try it again.’ The same irritating whine then silence. ‘Just the battery. It’ll need a jump.’ He slams the bonnet closed and wipes his hands on his jeans. ‘You got someone you can call?’

  Chloe checks her watch and makes a face. ‘It’s seven in the morning. I’ll ring a garage later and get it sorted.’

  He nods and scratches his jaw. ‘You live nearby?’

  Chloe points up the track. ‘Top of the hill. Cove View Cottage.’

  He leans against the load bed and crosses his arms as he scrutinises her. Chloe can feel her cheeks burn as he looks over at her, but she can’t turn away. His eyes are the most incredible shade of dark blue she’s seen. And it not like she’s being rude by staring. He’s doing a pretty good job of that himself.

  ‘So you must be Dorothy’s granddaughter.’

  Chloe nods, releasing the breath she was holding when he finally looks away from her to his horse. He whistles and the horse stops sniffing whatever had caught its attention and walks back over to him.

  ‘Yeah. You know my gran?’

  ‘Everyone around here does. She mentioned you’d be coming to stay for a bit.’

  ‘I’m Chloe. Nice to meet you.’ She smiles awkwardly as he frowns again but doesn’t offer his name. ‘Do you have a name?’

  ‘You want to know my name?’

  ‘Well, only if you want to tell me.’

  He mulls over that for longer than necessary. It’s just his name. It’s not like she’s asking for his phone number. Not that she wouldn’t mind if he gave it to her. After her disastrous initial meeting, the odds of getting his number aren’t worth mentioning.

  Chloe smiles and points over her shoulder to the track back to the road. ‘Well, I better get back. Thanks for your help.’

  ‘Tate.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘My name is Tate.’

  ‘Oh. Right. That’s a lovely name.’

  His frown deepens. ‘What?’

  Chloe grimaces. That last sentence was absolutely meant to stay in her head. ‘Nothing. I better let you go. Thanks for your help, Tate.’<
br />
  Tate pulls himself back on the horse, then shakes his head and turns around to face her again. ‘You better let me take you home. It looks like it’s about to lash.’ As if waiting for him to utter the words, the heaven’s open, quickly soaking into her sweatshirt. ‘Can you ride?’

  ‘Well, I sat on a horse once when I was a kid. I really don’t think you’d classify that as riding.’ She looks up at his horse and isn’t so sure she even wants to attempt trying to climb up on its back.

  He points to the back of the pickup. ‘Get into the load bed.’ She climbs up and Tate brings the horse closer to the truck then holds out his hand. Chloe hesitates for a second then places her hand in his. ‘Stand on the back of my leg and I’ll pull you up’. He bends his leg back and Chloe climbs up while he helps by lifting her. She’s suitably impressed and unbelievably relieved when she gets her leg over the horse’s wide back without flying off the other side or landing against Tate.

  ‘Put your arms around my waist and don’t let go.’

  6

  Tate looks down at Chloe’s small hands resting against his stomach. This day is certainly heading in a different direction than the way it started. He wanted a few hours to himself before going back to the house and putting on a performance for his parents for the rest of the day. Bumping into an attractive trespasser wasn’t on his to-do-list.

  The land that runs the length of the beach belongs to his parents. He’d bought it for them when he paid off the house a few years ago.

  They have no issue with people using the beach whenever they want, but for some reason finding her there had completely thrown him. He’s used to occasionally meeting locals walking their dogs but no one like her before.

  The rain picks up, soaking through his navy hoodie, but he doesn’t care. Chloe presses tighter to his back as Jove steps down onto the sand.

  ‘What’s his name?’ Chloe asks.

  ‘Who?’