Unbreak Me

by Michelle Hazen

  Her words warped and blistered inside his mind, peeling away in layers like the flimsy excuse they were.

  “No shit.” His voice came out low and dark, and when he scoffed, it did nothing to ease the tightness of his throat. “What did you think was going to happen, Andra? Life is never going to give you a montage where black kids start playing in the sprinklers with white ones and the curtain goes down on racism. You want to pretend the reason you’re uncomfortable here is because you don’t play the guitar, fine. The truth is you came down south, had your eyes pried open, and decided you didn’t want to deal. Plain and simple.”

  “This has nothing to do with what I want.” Her face twisted with anguish. “What I want doesn’t change that I don’t fit here, and it’s not any easier for you up there. There’s no place for us to be, LJ.”

  “So what, I’m supposed to accept that this is some kind of star-crossed thing because I’m from the city and you wear cowboy boots?” He took a step closer, eating up all the ground between them. “Well, I wear boots, too, not that you probably remember that right about now. Don’t bother with another excuse, because I hear what you’re saying loud and clear. My home and yours ain’t the same. My people and yours ain’t the same. And dealing with that is too damn hard for you.” Heat seared up through his every vein, and he had to grind his teeth to keep his voice from building to a shout. “Fine. Hard ain’t new for me and mine, Cassandra Lawler. When the floods come, we stay.” He slapped his hand against his bare chest. “And you wash right on down the river.” He threw out an arm. “So go. Go back to where it’s easy, because that ain’t ever going to be here.”

  Thirty-two

  Water.

  It was all around Andra: gray concrete and silver water. The sharp flash of sunlight off windshields. She’d taken a wrong turn leaving New Orleans and ended up on a bridge over a lake so big it might as well have been the ocean. Miles of divided highway on two separate bridges left nowhere to pull over, no place to duck off the road and catch her breath. The traffic was all shoving her too fast along the road.

  She could barely steer her truck, because all she could see were LJ’s eyes when she’d left, dark with hurt.

  Her hands tightened on the steering wheel, the light-pink handcuff scars around her wrists glaring in the brutal sunlight.

  He’d started out as just a handsome man with gentle hands, holding a cake. He made her feel safe, and beautiful. He made her feel like it was safe to be beautiful.

  She’d come down here for so many reasons, but mostly because she’d missed LJ, pure and pitiful. She wanted to be more to him than another person to save, but the ache of disappointment in her throat told her that part of her had still wanted to be rescued.

  She wasn’t fixed.

  Cuddled onto his lap in the backyard shed with that lovely after-sex lassitude, she’d thought she was done with panic attacks. And then she’d ended up on the floor all over again, frozen and helpless. Love hadn’t healed her, and neither had this trip. Time passing had done nothing but torment her. All her hope had died in Gavin’s dusty room. She might as well still be shackled to that same damned bed.

  Andra closed her eyes, fighting tears, and then jerked them open again to track the bumper of the Chevy in front of her. She had to drive, goddamn it. Her family and her ranch were waiting. She didn’t have time to pull over for a pity party.

  Within a couple of days, she’d be back in her house. Back to her lonely kitchen and days of wrangling horse after horse into obedience. The hills, the pine trees. The utter emptiness of her life, the way it’d been for five long years.

  Her hands started to shake, panic lancing into her chest. She couldn’t go back there. Air turned to brick in her throat, and the muscles of her shoulders locked.

  Shit. Not now. Not while she was driving.

  She clamped her sluggish fingers harder against the wheel. As she slowed, a car passed her, a couple of kids fighting over a tablet in the back seat. She gritted her teeth, trying to move her hands just enough to steer her truck away from them. She couldn’t focus on the road with her heart hammering so hard in her ears that it felt like her eardrums would burst.

  The edges of her vision started to blacken from lack of oxygen. Her tires crossed the yellow line, and a horn blared as a car swerved out of her way.

  Thanks to Rose, she knew the panic attacks couldn’t really kill her. But right now, this wasn’t a psychological trick or an illusion of suffocation. This was paralysis and thousands of pounds of steel hurtling along a narrow highway with no one here to help her regain control of her body or the truck. She was going to crash, along with any other car in her path, and that would be it. Cold water swallowing cold metal.

  The bridge curved, but her hands on the steering wheel stayed locked into place. Her truck sailed through the second lane and toward the concrete barrier on the far side.

  The cuffs felt hard as steel around her wrists, the cotton gag filling her whole throat. The road in front of her went vague, because she was still locked in that room. Had never left, could never escape.

  Frantically, she focused all her energy on trying to move. Anything, any part of her she could control. One toe twitched in response. She curled her toes hard, even when that pressed the gas pedal harder.

  No matter how tightly you tied someone, no matter how hard you choked them, they could still move their toes.

  Her bumper shot sparks as it edged close enough to kiss the concrete barrier.

  Fresh adrenaline ripped through her, and she remembered that moment in her room when she’d touched her body and realized it was still her own. Right now, nothing held her in place but her mind. Her mind.

  Her hands clamped tight on the wheel, and she took the curve.

  Andra inhaled air down deep in her lungs. Sweet and light and utterly under her control. She adjusted the path of the truck, as steady now as if she were holding reins.

  She’d done it. Pulled herself out of a full-blown attack twice in one day, despite being stressed to the max. She grinned and pounded the dash with one fist, wishing she could call LJ. He’d just laugh and say—her stomach dropped. He wouldn’t say anything to her, probably ever again.

  Leaving had been the right thing to do, the best thing for him and everyone in his life. And no matter how much it hurt, she knew she was strong enough to give him that one final gift.

  Andra sat back in her seat, exhausted and proud and sick to her stomach all at once. If she could wiggle her toes, she could pull herself out of the attacks, now that she knew it was possible. Even without LJ, things would be different now.

  Every time she had taken more control over her life, her attacks had gotten a little weaker, a little less frequent. She’d never get back to being the carefree girl she’d been in high school. But today, she could tell she was moving ever closer to the woman she would become, and somewhere deep in her gut, that felt better. More solid.

  And yet every mile she drove away from New Orleans felt like it carried her further from the future she wanted.

  Thirty-three

  The Ford truck barely pulled off the highway, two tires still sitting on the white lines marking the shoulder. LJ hopped out of the bed of the pickup and grabbed his duffel, giving a little wave of thanks through the side window to the young couple who’d finally picked him up a few miles back. They smiled but didn’t roll down the window to say goodbye before they took off, dust and gravel scattering in their wake.

  The Lawler Ranch sign creaked in the relentless Montana wind as he passed beneath the massive log gate and started down the driveway. The big spread was deserted, just like the first day he’d ever seen the place.

  Three days had passed since she’d left New Orleans, so best he could figure, Andra would have been home last night or this morning. She’d want to visit her brother, of course, but by now, she was probably riding. He turned toward the ar
ena where he’d first seen her. As he got closer, the red walls of the barn blocked his view, but he could hear hoofbeats, the drum of them matching the thunder of his own pulse.

  He’d lasted two hours after she’d left. He’d gone out back to lift weights and ended up smashing the flimsy little shed into a crooked ruin. Ty had come running up the street and hauled LJ out of the torn wreckage of sheet metal, thrown his shirt over LJ’s bleeding fist. And then LJ had started to cry.

  He hadn’t cried in front of anyone since the first time he’d seen his house after Katrina: tipped half off its foundation, with the walls ripped open and the roof broken like an old toy. But now his life felt as unfixable as that old house. Andra wasn’t coming back, and her absence sucked all the oxygen out of his chest until he couldn’t breathe except in huge, shuddering gasps, tears blocking up his throat even worse.

  At the sight of him, his friend had stuttered for a second and then gone coward—turned tail and run to get LJ’s mother. LJ had knuckled his eyes dry before Mama came out, which was maybe why he hadn’t gotten an ounce of sympathy from her. She’d raked him over the coals for letting Andra go, ordered Ty to get a tarp to cover the boxes that had been in the shed, and gone back inside. He’d been on a plane to Montana before sunset.

  LJ passed into the shade of the barn, the cessation of heat nothing so dramatic as what he was used to. The air here was sharper, drier than in New Orleans. The sunlight cleaner but somehow less powerful. One of the horses whickered in greeting, and he stroked a hand down its nose without noticing which one it was. He didn’t slow down as he strode out the door on the other side of the building.

  She was there. Riding a horse that was all uncollected, its hindquarters sloppy and its shoulders tight and fighting her cues. Her hands on the reins looked tense, but her balance was solid, and sweet Lord was she beautiful.

  The slenderest nip of waist was visible through her baggy shirt, the rays of the sun beating through old, thin fabric. A wisp of black hair fell forward from beneath her hat. He dropped his duffel and leaned his arms on the fence to watch. Maybe one of the rails creaked, maybe the air just shifted, but she turned to look at him. Even from across the arena, he could see her entire posture brighten as she recognized him.

  “LJ!”

  He grinned and everything got lighter: the worry, the ache in his shoulder from sleeping on concrete, and the ticktock of the charity clock, counting down the time until he had to get back. “Hey, hey, Rodeo Queen. Long time no see. Looking good out there.”

  But then her smile cracked and ebbed away, her hands tightening on the reins until the horse began to back up. She let go of the reins and dismounted, not looking at him.

  Something dark shook LJ’s gut, and he grabbed the top rail, vaulting over with a yank and pull that did nothing to dissipate the energy coursing through his whole body. He’d come all this way, and she looked the same as the last time he saw her: like it was going to make her cry, but she was going to leave him anyway.

  “I should have asked,” he said. “When you left New Orleans, I should have realized someone must have said something stupid to you between when I went to work and when I came home. Was it Reggie?”

  She tied the horse’s reins up short, letting it loose to wander in the arena.

  “Mona?”

  Andra pulled her back straight and walked to meet him. “It doesn’t matter, LJ. Nobody could say anything to change the fact that there’s no way for us to be together. Not without you sacrificing everything that means anything to you. Not without me becoming a different person.”

  He took it like a punch, trying not to flinch. When she’d told him all that the first time, she’d been in tears, and she hadn’t sounded so certain. He’d planned an apology and a long speech refuting every possible point that might have motivated her to break up with him. In person, she was so steady and beautiful that everything he’d meant to say fell away into one bare plea.

  “Tell me you don’t love me,” he said.

  She wrapped her arms around herself. “Don’t,” she said raggedly. “LJ, we can’t.”

  He swallowed. “There’s only one reason for me to leave here,” he said. “One reason for us not to build a herd of horses and a life together. And that’s if you don’t love me. Because I love you so much I’m crazy with it.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, tears bleeding out from beneath her eyelashes. LJ took a long step forward and cupped her cheek in one hand, barely daring to touch her.

  “Say yes,” he whispered, his heartbeats counting out every second that passed as he waited for her answer.

  “I can’t believe you had the balls to come back here after the way you left,” a male voice growled into the silence. “Now get your hands off my daughter.”

  Thirty-four

  LJ didn’t look away from Andra’s face, so pale and pretty beneath the shadow of her cowboy hat. Reality had rarely been kind to him, and yet he still found himself hoping she might answer. Instead, a tear slipped down her cheek, catching in the corner of her trembling lips. She didn’t even seem to register her father’s voice.

  “Hey!” Bill half growled the word. “Did you hear me?”

  LJ let his hand drop. Andra’s silence left him empty, the earth too big and wild beneath his feet. He turned around. “I heard you. And I didn’t give a damn.”

  Bill Lawler’s face tinged red with rage. He ducked through the rails and stalked into the arena. LJ’s muscles tightened, and Andra’s head lifted.

  “You had your chance,” Bill snarled. “And you couldn’t even look me in the eye.”

  LJ’s cheek twitched as he remembered staring at the floor in the other man’s office, listening to everything he wanted being snatched out of reach. “And what chance was that?” LJ cocked his head. “Was that when you yelled at me for making her laugh, or when you threatened to fire me for loving her?” He figured it hardly mattered if Andra heard it now. She’d made her choice and it hadn’t been him.

  At his side, she jolted. “Dad, what is he talking about?”

  Bill’s jaw flexed under half a beard’s worth of unshaven stubble. “You can paint it any way you like. The fact is, you chose a paycheck over the girl you claim to love, just like I knew you would. Did you tell her that when she followed you halfway across the country?”

  Retorts screamed through LJ’s head, but that was the kind of accusation so ridiculous the only answer was a broken jaw. Except this was Andra’s father, and of the two of them, Bill was the one she was going to listen to.

  “He didn’t choose anything, Dad.” Andra’s feet stayed planted. “I was the one who left.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about, Andra.” Bill looked at LJ and jerked his chin toward the highway. “I grew up in a trailer park just down the road from here. I know the only people who don’t care about money are the ones who have enough, like my kids.”

  LJ gritted his teeth, because on that small point alone, they agreed. The difference was, Bill thought because he’d gotten his hands on a little money, he had the right to dictate other people’s lives.

  “I saw the ambition eating at you,” Bill said. “People who are just working for the weekend don’t come out after sunset to fix a loose rail or check on a fidgety horse. You don’t want to work on a spread like this. You want to own it, just like I did.” He turned to Andra. “You’ve been through enough, sweetheart. I didn’t want you to get your heart broken the first time you tried to date again. So I told him if he wanted you rather than a foothold in this ranch, he’d find a different job. He didn’t. And after that, I never saw you two together until he took off and you told me you were going after him. Apparently, rather than showing me straight that he wasn’t angling for this ranch, he started lying and sneaking around, trying to pull one over on me.”

  “Is that true?” Andra looked at LJ. “Did he give you some kind of ultimatu
m? Why didn’t you just tell me? I never would have let him fire you over that. It’s not like you were trying to get a ring on my finger and steal all the horses. You were just teaching me to cook, and things happened from there. We were just . . .” She trailed off, her face paling beneath her hat. “LJ?”

  He swallowed. Because he hadn’t just been teaching her to cook. He’d been fascinated from the first moment he’d seen her, and if he were any kind of real man, he’d have stood up for that no matter how many jobs it cost him. He could have found another way to support Mama, somehow.

  Bill’s face went somber. “I married your mother when we could barely afford diapers for Jason. I would have fought the flow of gravity for that woman, and that’s what I wanted for you, Cassie. A man who loved you above everything. More than horses or his pride or his ambition.”

  “Bullshit.” It was the single word LJ let escape, shaking with the power of all the things he was holding back. If this man didn’t have Andra’s blood running through his veins, he’d already be on the ground.

  But there was no reason to keep silent anymore. Andra knew he’d lied to her dad and refused to give up his career for a chance to openly date her. Not that he thought her father would have approved no matter what he did, but what mattered was how bad it looked to Andra. If he had the chance now, he would choose her a thousand times over, but it was too late.

  He had nothing left to lose, and he wasn’t going to stand here and let Bill twist reality to make himself look good. LJ remembered Stacia’s story too well to believe that crap. She used to live in the same trailer park down the highway. She’d pointed it out to LJ once when they’d driven to town together, told him all about Bill giving her a chance before she knew a spatula from a spark plug.

  “If I were white and poor,” LJ said hoarsely, “you’d have admired my guts and given me a job even if I burned every grilled cheese for a month. Even if I could barely change the oil in a truck, much less a tractor. But somehow my kind of poor means my ambition scares you instead of impressing you.”