Fingers bit into Andra’s upper arms, and her head whirled, her lungs tightening to stone in her chest.
Oh no. Not here.
Her father’s voice broke through as he shook her, and she realized vaguely that it had been there all along, even though she had no idea what he’d been saying. “Don’t you say that, Cassandra Lawler. Don’t you ever even think that. You’ve never done anything wrong. Not then, not now. I’m—” His voice went gruff, and he had to cough to go on. “I’m the worst father in the state if that’s what I made you think.”
She pulled in a breath, and relief washed through her. If she could breathe, she wasn’t having an attack. She focused on his mossy-green eyes, the color closer to hazel than the brighter shade she and her mother had shared.
“I want you to feel safe in your home,” Dad murmured. “That’s all. I knew that man would start wanting more, and as soon as he did, it would remind you of all this stuff you might not be ready for.” His thumbs brushed over her arms. “After what you’ve been through, I want you to know it’s okay if you’re never ready. You’ll always have a home here, and family, and you’ll never be alone, okay?”
She stood there, his words getting louder and louder in her ears until they were practically screaming at her. She shook off his hands and grabbed the reins of his horse, leading the gelding out of the crowd without a backward glance because she knew her father would follow. She dodged around a cowboy tightening his cinch, heat burning in two points on her cheekbones as she kept her eyes forward. Whatever the crowd heard, it didn’t matter. Every person in this town knew how messed up she was and every disgusting detail of why because the trial transcripts were public documents.
Everything that had been done to her body was public property.
She rounded a fence to a quieter corner of the fairgrounds and stopped. Her dad’s gelding almost stepped on her, then backed up quickly, snorting. She dropped his reins and let the well-trained horse stand as she whirled to face her dad. “I’m always alone.” She narrowed her eyes at him, her vision tunneling to the single point of his pale, round face. “Haven’t you noticed? When I’m riding, when I’m eating. Every moment of my damned existence, I’m alone.”
He blinked. “We . . . I thought you wanted it that way.”
She looked away toward the arena. Why wouldn’t they think that? That is what she’d wanted, at first. Peace and quiet with no scouring eyes. No expectations that she’d start to smile and laugh the way she used to, or show up to ride in a tutu covered with Stacia’s sequins because she was so tired of living in dirt-streaked jeans.
Expectations she couldn’t fulfill, because she couldn’t even meet a man for a job interview without ending up in the fetal position.
“You’re right,” she whispered, and her voice cracked. She knew she was messed up. She’d known it for years. It just hurt so much more coming from the man who had scorched her hair trying to help her learn to use a curling iron. She lifted her head. “Maybe I’m not capable of having a relationship. But that’s never going to change if you scare off any man who comes within a mile of me. That’s my choice, Dad.” She took a step forward. “Mine. And nobody’s going to take it from me.”
“Of course not,” he said hoarsely. His eyes started to shine, and he blinked quickly.
Andra swallowed. She’d never seen her father cry, not even at her mom’s funeral, but she’d heard him. That first night after her family drove two hours to bring her home, arriving at the hospital after she had already finished the horror of the rape kit. When she was safe in her childhood bedroom, she’d heard her father crying down the hall, well after midnight. She’d heard him again when she moved back after college graduation. That was the first reason she began to think of building her own place, but it was far from the only reason.
“Sweetheart, if you think you want to try dating again, that’s good, but . . .” He took off his hat and scrubbed a hand across his head before putting it back on. “Are you sure he’s the guy you want to start with?”
Her chin snapped up and her teeth ground together. “Is this because he’s black?”
“It doesn’t have a thing to do with his color, Cassie.” He used her childhood nickname, as if he were too rattled to remember it had changed. “But he was raised in the city, and differently from you. If you want to find a partner, it should be somebody you have more in common with.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “So it’s because he’s black.” She stalked a couple of steps away, then spun back around, glaring at him. “Seriously?”
Dad frowned. “Don’t take that tone with me. Your generation likes to talk as if seeing any difference between two people makes you a bigot. But race is a lot more than color. It’s the way they treat women, what they think is important. The way they talk and act. You hardly know a thing about this man. You think you’re going to fit in with his family? And don’t forget he came up here for a job first. Dating your employees gets . . . complicated.”
“Well, you know what’s simple?” she snapped, her voice growing stronger with every word. “I want my life back. I don’t want to just make it through one day at a time, counting myself as lucky if I don’t have a panic attack. I want to build a life I’m proud of, and I’m the best judge of how to do that, not you.”
He clenched his jaw. “Okay. I am proud of you, sweetheart, whether you want to believe it or not. But don’t bite off more than you can chew just to spite your dad.”
She stiffened. Slowly, from her stomach to her lungs, her shoulders to her neck, until her whole body felt brittle. He’d said it with so much love in his voice that she couldn’t even argue with him. What if he was right, and she would never be normal again?
“Okay,” she mumbled. “I better get going.” She kept her head down as she strode away, not even sure where she was headed.
Was that what her dad really thought of her? Was that what LJ thought of her?
Eight
When all the other staff started drawing straws for who would go to the bar and who would take the horses home, Andra volunteered to drive the first trailer. Stacia barely argued with her, and no one looked surprised that she’d rather go home alone instead of celebrating that she had helped break the record time for team roping.
In contrast, when LJ volunteered to drive the second trailer, everyone was surprised but her, and Curt ribbed him until LJ’s silence shut him down. She thought it meant he wanted a chance to talk to her privately, but apparently not. He didn’t say a word to her as they packed up, or even after they got back to the ranch and they were alone.
One of the horses stamped a hoof, breaking the quiet of the barn. A stall door creaked. Andra snuck another glance down the aisle at LJ as she scooped up the pile of leg wraps to put them away. When she came back out, he was dusting hay off his hands and walking toward the mare waiting in the crossties. She kept her eyes on the ground as she passed, heading out front to move the trucks.
She backed the first trailer into its storage spot, and then the second. She was unhooking the last safety chain when LJ’s footsteps rustled in the dirt behind her.
She sucked in a breath. Maybe she should apologize for giving him the wrong idea. But she wasn’t sure if he was actually interested in her or if her father was reading too much into it. She had thought Dad didn’t want to hire a man because she was still skittish around young—and especially muscular—members of the opposite sex. Instead, it turned out Dad thought she was too stupid to realize the effect she had on guys, and too traumatized to do anything about it. Her skin burned all over again as she thought about it.
Slowly, she turned to face the man she had thought was becoming her friend.
His jaw tightened as his eyes flicked between hers. “Look, I, ah . . .” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “If I stepped over the line with you today or embarrassed you in front of your dad, I didn’t mean to. You know tha
t, right?”
She sucked in a quick breath. “You didn’t. You didn’t do anything wrong, LJ. I shouldn’t have . . . I mean—” She couldn’t finish. Not only because it was humiliating to say she hadn’t meant to lead him on, but because her stomach felt all mixed up, like maybe it wasn’t the truth. If he’d wanted to spend time with her as more than a friend . . . it felt wrong to like that thought so much. She wasn’t ready for more, so it was hypocritical of her to long for it.
Maybe her father was right and she had been hinting toward that with LJ, however subconsciously. But he was her employee, and she’d gotten him in trouble. She should be more professional, not burden him with all her mixed-up feelings and problems.
“Thanks . . . for all your hard work today.”
His eyes narrowed at her almost imperceptible pause, but then he nodded. “Okay. Congratulations on breaking that record, by the way.” He barely waited for her weak smile before he headed for his own apartment, his strides long and stiff. He was still upset, and she had no idea how to fix it.
Andra went back to the barn and gathered up Gracie, blinking back tears. Her mood was too heavy for her to climb up onto the tall palomino, so she clung to the mare’s lead rope and started the long walk back to her own house.
Earlier, she’d watched LJ in the calf-roping event, peeking around the far corner of the grandstands so neither he nor her father would see her do it. She’d embarrassed him enough already, her dad blowing up at him just because he was friends with her.
She could tell by LJ’s quick, tight movements that he was angry as he stuck the pigging string between his teeth and backed Gracie into the starting box. But he didn’t over-spur Andra’s horse, and when he flipped the calf onto its side, he set the 250-pound animal down so lightly she didn’t even hear the thud. Once he had the calf tied and the buzzer marked his impressive time, he didn’t celebrate. He just walked back to Gracie and vaulted back on without touching a stirrup, the move as effortless as if he were pulling on his pants.
She hated that she was the reason his ever-present grin had disappeared, even for the space of a single afternoon.
Now Andra stopped in front of her house, staring at the darkened windows. The only sound for miles was the wind scouring the grass, the chirp of crickets from beneath her porch steps. She turned abruptly, pressing her cheek against her horse’s warm neck. Gracie whickered, but she didn’t have arms to hug her or a voice to comfort her. She was Andra’s best friend, and she was only a fucking horse.
Somehow, this had become her life. Home every night to empty, silent rooms, and every time she laughed, somebody looked surprised. This morning, her old Rodeo Queen chaps had felt like a costume borrowed from the personality she used to have. She’d walked out of the trailer, and the cowboys’ whistles had reminded her of the days when she blushed and preened under their attention instead of cringing. Revisiting her old self for a morning had felt utterly foreign.
Was Dad right? Was this all she would be capable of now? Was this who she was now?
Gracie backed away and trotted off a few steps before turning back with her ears pricked, offering her favorite game: the equine variation of tag. When Andra didn’t chase her, she walked closer, then trotted away again, her head high and hopeful.
“Not right now, girl.” Andra took her horse to the paddock and hugged her tight before she took off the halter. The empty windows of her waiting house taunted her until she turned back toward the ranch, and she started to run.
She had no idea what this person she had become was capable of, but she was sure of one thing: tonight, she wasn’t going to plod quietly back to her cell.
Nine
LJ slung his shirt onto the floor of the bathroom and yanked off one boot, letting it fall with a clunk. Movement flickered in the mirror over the sink, but he didn’t turn his head to look at himself. Instead, he ripped off the other boot and half threw it, the leather skidding across wood-grained laminate and flipping out into the hall.
All he had here was an old Billy Cook saddle, clothes, and a saxophone. He could quit in the morning. Hell, he could drive out tonight if he wanted. LJ flipped his belt buckle open, the worn edges of the silver reminding him of his uncle. He’d been running that ranch north of New Orleans for nearly twenty years, though the owner barely paid him enough to keep his fridge full. LJ always had a job there, as long as he didn’t mind muscling horses into obedience to keep up with the grueling training schedule the owner insisted on. Unfortunately, he minded. One whole hell of a lot.
LJ, honey, the world isn’t going to bend for you.
His mama was right. It would be the same anywhere he went, and all his mad was going to do was slow down the process. People needed a chance to get to know you, to let your actions argue them out of whatever they decided when they took their first look at you. Besides, he would always be too tall to slide under the radar, a little too broad in the shoulders to set people at ease.
He bent down to turn on the shower, and the gush of water against porcelain nearly drowned out the knock at his door.
The faucet squeaked as he cranked it back off. Must be an emergency with one of the horses. Andra hadn’t seemed in much of a hurry to talk to him earlier, and with everyone gone to the bar, he was pretty sure they were the only ones left on the property.
After the scene earlier, he doubted she was here because she wanted some company for dinner. His abs flexed, anger burning deep in his gut like a fire that never went out. He shoved it a little further back.
LJ was already reaching for the doorknob when he realized he had forgotten his shirt. Another knock rattled the door, even harder than the first. Shit, the horse must be in bad shape. He opened the door.
Andra moved so quickly he got only a flash of mussed black curls before her fingers slipped cold over his cheeks, her lips hot against his.
His heart jumped, thumping into an erratic rhythm. Her hands clung to his jaw, and his slid into the soft strands of her hair, stroking them between his fingers as he bent lower to her level. She smelled like leather and horses, wind and salt and a sweet wisp of one of those things women put in their hair. She all but devoured him, fierce and frantic. He held steady for her, drinking in every touch of her lips and waiting for her to ease into sync with him. Shock still echoed in the back of his mind, but he wasn’t about to let her go.
Her little gasp of a breath broke against his lips as she sagged into him, his dangling belt buckle catching on the loop of her jeans.
LJ’s hands slid down to the curve of her back, and he pulled away just enough to see the tears flooding down her cheeks, and the streaks of mascara that only emphasized the wildness of her green eyes.
“I don’t want to be broken,” she gasped.
His fingers tightened, the shimmery fabric of her blouse warm from her skin, her waist impossibly tiny against his broad palms. Something had happened to her tonight, something bad. He didn’t know what, and he didn’t know how that added up to the whirlwind of a kiss she’d planted on him. All that mattered now was getting her safe. He guided her away from the door, tipping his head toward his kitchen. “Come inside. I’ll make you a sandwich.”
She stepped back, swiping at her face with shaking hands. He toed the door closed and buckled his belt, tugging his jeans a little straighter because that kiss alone had brought him halfway to standing. But every other thought in his crowded head got kicked to the curb at the sight of her distress.
Her sniff was loud in his small apartment, and he flicked on the kitchen light so it would seem more welcoming.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted out. “I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t even know why I came here.”
He frowned, leading the way into the kitchen. “You can always come over here. Don’t have to have a reason.”
“I know you were upset earlier, and I didn’t even ask what was wrong.” She sucked in another
sniffling breath. “It’s okay if you’re pissed at me. I didn’t realize—and then I thought maybe—” She dropped her hands, as if to keep them from wiping at the tears that still hadn’t stopped. “I need . . . I really need someone to talk to right now.”
He pulled out a chair for her and brushed her arm with just his fingertips, guiding her toward it. He kept his voice gentle, the hint of gravel at the bottom of it nothing he could control. “Don’t you worry about me; I’ll be just fine. Why don’t you sit down and tell me what brings you to my door, needing an ear?”
She dropped into the chair with a hard exhale. “My dad.”
LJ crossed the kitchen and ripped off a paper towel for her, anger threatening deep in his gut as he handed it over. His tone dropped half an octave when he answered. “Yeah, don’t apologize for him. It ain’t no thing.” He straightened, the skin tight across his cheekbones. “Men never want their white daughters taking up with black dudes, especially not when they’re the hired help. That’s older than this country.”
He could still feel the give of her lips pressing into his, the way her hands clung to his cheeks. He hated that he had anything to do with the tears staining her face. Earlier, he’d thought she was embarrassed because they’d been caught in a situation that looked flirtier than what it was. Shit, all he had wanted was to make her smile.
The anger twisted, writhing higher until he had to move. He got out a frying pan and dropped butter into it, tilting the pan so it would start to run as it heated.
“That’s not why he was mad,” she said. She paused to blow her nose, and as he processed her words, his grip froze with the pan still tipped to the right.
She hadn’t denied that there was something between them. She’d flown through his door tonight and kissed him, and he had not the first damned clue what that all meant.
Unbreak Me Page 7