Breaking Hearts (Full Hearts #4)

by MJ Summers

  Yes! He pumped his arm in the air and lifted his hat, grinning. That ought to bring him the championship. Turning his head, he saw a white blur with black horns coming straight at him. Oh fuck!

  Forty-Two

  Bebedouro, Brazil

  Alessandra stood at the kitchen counter, mixing the dough for the pão de queijo. It was Saturday afternoon and she had decided to make a special meal for herself and Carlos. Even though it was just for the two of them, she had cooked enough to feed the entire Santos family today. Beans and rice, shredded beef and chicken, along with a salad with fresh tomatoes. For dessert, she was making tapioca pudding. Cooking gave her something to do, a way to give value to an otherwise empty day, even if it was just a distraction from her pain and loneliness. After supper, she was going into town to take in a movie with Cyssah. There was a new horror movie out and they wanted to scare themselves so they could laugh later about how foolish they were.

  Her hair was in her face. Again, she had forgotten put it up. Her mind wandered to the first time she had felt Trey’s hands on her skin, when he had tied her hair back for her. The thought tortured her, causing that horrible ache to return to her chest, the one she woke up with every morning. She would give anything to feel his hands on her skin again. To feel his kiss. It had been weeks since their last angry exchange, and she was becoming certain that her last words had been the final nail in the coffin of their marriage. She looked at her ring, which was sitting on the windowsill where she had placed it before she started the dough. Was he still wearing his ring? How could they have grown so distant that she would have to wonder that?

  Over the past few days, an unsettling realization had crept over her. She finally understood that Trey wasn’t the only one who’d let them drift apart. She had as well. She could have gone with him, or agreed to meet him, even if only for a few days. Judge Bathory would have understood and given her some time off. Avô would have understood too. He would have wanted her to go to her husband to save their marriage. But she hadn’t. She had chosen not to. She had stayed where she felt safe to protect herself. She could trust what was here in a way she hadn’t learned to trust her husband. Her decision wasn’t only about her obligations or opportunities, it was about the fact that she didn’t trust him. And that mistrust had made her unwilling to bend, even a little, in order to make their marriage work. If only she had trusted their relationship, maybe it would have lasted. But she hadn’t. And now, she was certain it was over.

  She sighed, wishing Tomas was here running around the kitchen. She could hear his squeal of laughter and picture Trey chasing him around the table to tickle him. The thought crushed her, and she shook her head and lifted her chin to deny her sadness. Wiping her hands on a towel, she decided to put on some happy music to lift her spirits. She smiled as her eyes fell on Avô napping in his hammock in the shade. He had worked too hard this morning picking oranges, and Alessandra had had to go out and practically drag him inside to have lunch and rest.

  “It can wait, Vô. The work crew will be here on Monday to take care of it.”

  Carlos had waved his hand at her. “I’m a farmer, my girl. Let me farm.”

  She thought of how they’d sat together on the swing after lunch, her grandfather holding her hand as he spoke. “You take such good care of me. How did I get so lucky to have such a wonderful family?”

  “It wasn’t luck at all, Vô. We learned it from you.” She smiled at him and placed her other hand overtop of his, feeling his delicate, crinkled skin against her fingertips.

  “You are a good person, Alessandra. You deserve to have the best in life. Promise me that if your cowboy doesn’t come back, you will find someone who will make you happy, okay?”

  “Oh, Vô, I can’t even think about that right now.” She sighed, saying nothing for a long moment. “Do you think he’ll come back?”

  Carlos nodded. “I do. You’re far too special to leave behind.” He lifted her hand to his lips and gave it a light kiss. “I believe he will find his way back to you. But if for some reason he doesn’t, don’t spend your life missing him. Find a way to move on. You’re a beautiful, strong young woman. If only you could remember that.”

  Alessandra nodded, unable to speak.

  “I’m going to have a sleep now. My hammock is calling me.” He stood and smiled at her. “What a perfect day for a lucky old farmer like me.”

  After she put the tray of cheese buns into the oven, she danced a little to the song on the radio. The music and the meal to come had lifted her spirits. She smiled to herself, knowing that her avô would be surprised she had made his favourite chicken. Glancing at the clock, she realized it was getting late. He was usually awake by now. Walking to the window, she saw he was still in the hammock. He looked so peaceful with the soft light of the late-day sun. He had tired himself out that morning, but if she didn’t wake him soon he’d have trouble falling asleep tonight.

  Stepping outside in her bare feet, she crossed the yard to him, her blood running cold when she saw how pale he was. “Avô?” she called quietly, holding on to a trace of hope. “Vô, it’s time to wake up. It’s almost supper.”

  But she knew from the look of him that he was gone. No matter how much her brain screamed at her that this wasn’t happening.

  A sob shook her body as she stood next to him. “Please wake up, Vô,” she choked out, taking his hand. It was cold to the touch, just as she feared it would be. “I can’t lose you too. Please. Come back.”

  Her body gave out and she crumpled onto the grass and wept until there were no tears left in her body.

  For the first time in her life, she was completely alone.

  * * *

  Late that night, she lay in bed, completely numb. She picked up her cellphone and dialed Trey’s number. She needed to hear his voice, needed him to comfort her, even if he no longer loved her. He would come to her. If there was anything left between them, if there ever had been, he would come to her now. He wouldn’t let her go through this alone. She willed him to answer, but he didn’t.

  When he didn’t pick up, she heard herself sob into the phone before any words managed to come out. “It’s me. Avô died today. Please call me, okay? I . . . I need you.”

  Forty-Three

  Christchurch, New Zealand

  Trey lay on a bed, coming in and out of consciousness. Pain shot out from his jaw whenever he tried to open his mouth. What the hell had happened? He was so thirsty. Why couldn’t he move? His back hurt and his chest did too. He wanted to roll onto his side but there was something digging into his ribs. He wanted to move it but he couldn’t, for some reason. Turning his head a tiny bit, he saw daylight through the window. Where was he, even? He closed his eyes and drifted off again.

  The next time he woke, it was completely dark. He tried to speak but again he couldn’t move his mouth. Only a grunting noise came out. He wanted to call for someone. He needed to know where he was and what had happened. Then he heard it. A beeping sound next to him. Followed by another. He started to come to and piece it all together. He must be in a hospital. A flash of the bull coming at him jarred him awake. He could feel the horn piercing his side and tossing him into the air, the metal bar of the gate smashing his face as he landed on it. And then everything had gone black.

  He lay there for a long time, waiting for someone to come. Long enough to see the moon pass by the window. He wished with everything in him that he could just get up out of this bed and go get Tomas, then go back to Alessandra. Nothing would feel right until they were all together again. He knew that now. The second thoughts he’d been having about riding were telling him he needed to stop, but he’d ignored them, thinking he could stop later. Now he realized that later is not a guarantee, it’s just something you hope you’ll get. He’d spent months assuming life would wait—that she would wait for him—while he raked in as much cash as he could. But while he’d been off doing that, his son and wife were hurting. He needed to get out of this bed and get to her before
it was too late.

  Finally the sound of footsteps brought relief to his loneliness. Someone was here. A clicking sound was accompanied by a bright light that made him blink hard. When his vision adjusted, he stared into the pretty blue eyes of a nurse. She smiled at him. “There you are. Awake, I see. That bull got the better of you last night.” Her accent had a pleasant sound. It was friendly but also made understanding her a little hard for him.

  His eyes followed her as she turned and replaced the IV bag hanging next to his bed.

  “You broke your jaw and we’ve had to wire it shut for the time being. And you’ve had quite the injury to your side. The horn pierced your ribs but somehow there wasn’t major damage to any of your organs, so you got lucky there. Four of your ribs are cracked, your right arm is broken in three places and you also have one hell of a concussion. I hope you like drinking your meals because it’s going to be some time before you’re eating them. But I suppose you’re more concerned about how quickly you can get back on a bull than you are about food. I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake.” With that she turned and walked out, leaving the light on.

  * * *

  “Trey? Trey?”

  Trey blinked his eyes open. The sun was up now, and he stared into the faces of Flint and Warren, two of the other riders on the tour. Their expressions gave Trey an indication of just how bad he looked. “How you doing?” Flint asked before realizing that Trey wasn’t able to answer him. “Shit, sorry. I can see how you are. That was a rough one, man. The good news is you won!”

  Trey’s eyes lit up.

  “Yeah, you scored forty-eight, Yolo scored forty-seven. Nicely done, man! You’re the champion of New Zealand!”

  Trey made a noise he hoped would sound enthusiastic, but it came out sounding more like a nondescript grunt.

  “We called Hank. He got a hold of your parents for you.”

  Trey realized then that his parents had no way of calling Alessandra. And he needed to see her. He lifted his arm in spite of the pain it caused and gestured as though he were writing.

  “He needs to tell us something. Go get him a pen and paper,” Flint said.

  Warren nodded and left the room. He was gone for a while before returning with a clipboard of paper and a pen. “Sorry about the delay. There’s a blond nurse out there who is, well, let’s say very distracting. I hope she’ll be looking after you.” He put the pen into Trey’s left hand, then held the clipboard at an angle so Trey could see while he wrote.

  Cellphone.

  “What’s that say? Cellophane?”

  “Nah, that can’t be it. Why would he need Cellophane?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he wants us to wrap something.”

  Trey glared and wrote, “My phone.”

  “Hmm. Can you write it again, Trey?”

  Cellphone.

  “Oh, your cellphone. Sure, Trey. I’ll go ask at the nurses station.”

  Warren returned a few minutes later. “They said they don’t have it with your stuff. They just have the clothes you were wearing when you came in, so your bag must have been left at the stadium. We’ll head over there and see if we can track it all down.”

  * * *

  Two hours later, Trey woke to his friend’s faces staring at him again. “Bad news, Trey. We found your bag but no cellphone. Someone must have swiped it. We went over to the motel and collected your things, but the phone wasn’t there either.”

  Trey closed his eyes, a sense of doom coming over him.

  “Shit, man. We’ll call Hank on our way to the airport. We have to fly to Melbourne in a couple of hours.”

  “I hate to leave you like this. But those nurses are going to take real good care of you,” Flint said.

  Warren nodded. “Yup, they’re nice. It’s the best reason to become a bull rider, isn’t it? To meet a nurse.”

  Bebedouro, Brazil

  Alessandra stood next to her mother, the two of them dressed in white and holding each other up as Avô’s coffin was lowered into the ground next to her grandmother’s. It was a peaceful spot under an expansive jacaranda tree. Rich green leaves and light purple blooms provided shade for those who had come to mourn Carlos. It had been less than two days since Carlos had passed away, and as per both tradition and law, he was being laid to rest.

  She felt her mother’s body shake violently as each sob erupted from her small frame, and Alessandra closed her arm around Lorena more firmly in response. She thought of Betina, who hadn’t been able to make it back in time. Her sister’s words of deep regret filled her mind, blocking out the wails and moans of her older relatives, who believed this moment was the one in which to express the utmost grief. No need to hide it or hold back. There was nothing private about this, only sorrow that would be shared in this one moment. But for Alessandra, funerals had always felt uncomfortable. She preferred to hold back a little, and tried to remember one beautiful thing about her grandfather each time she felt sad.

  She looked across the grave at her aunt Daniela and uncle Ricardo, wishing Trey was there with her. Ricardo held her aunt up with both arms as she cried. But Alessandra’s own husband was missing. He hadn’t even bothered to call her back. He’d made no attempt to contact her, and the grief of that reality only served to carve out another crater in her already empty soul.

  * * *

  Alessandra filled the horses’ water pails with a hose. She was sweaty and dirty and tears streamed down her face. How could this place—this stinky old barn—be the same place Trey had transformed into a fairy tale for their wedding? Being here hurt her as much as being in the main house or seeing the guest house. Every dream had dissolved. The life she was building had slipped through her hands, grains of sand that refused to be held.

  One of the horses snorted his disgust at her self-pity. Or maybe it was sympathy. She looked into his deep brown eyes, wondering if he missed Carlos too. The horses hadn’t had a good brushing in many days, but she couldn’t seem to muster the energy to do it just then. It had been a week since Avô’s funeral and she still hadn’t heard from Trey. This must be his way of making sure it was over between them, of making sure she didn’t start confusing kindness for love. She had ached for him to come, then spent the days after the funeral hating him. But now she decided that maybe she should be grateful he hadn’t shown up. At least she was very clear on where he stood. Any ambiguity about their marriage was long gone, which meant she could move on. She picked up a brush, choosing to push on with hard work. If she kept herself busy, maybe she’d survive the pain.

  “Here, let me help you.” Her mother stood in the doorway to the barn. It was the first time she’d stepped foot in there since she’d come back for the funeral.

  They worked quietly for a few minutes before Lorena spoke up. “Have you heard from your husband yet?”

  Alessandra shook her head.

  “I’m sorry. I had hoped he would be different than Otavio, but it looks like he was just better at fooling everyone.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” Alessandra’s voice was devoid of feeling.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to say I told you so.”

  “You just did.”

  Lorena sighed. “Listen, I’m here if you need to talk, okay? I know what you’re going through. At least you don’t have two little mouths to feed.”

  Alessandra’s head snapped back. “You know, when you say that it makes me think you wish he had taken us with him so you wouldn’t have been burdened. I lost the little one I had to love when my husband left and I would give anything to have him back. I have nothing! How is that better?”

  Lorena stopped brushing and gave her a sad look. “Of course. I’m sorry, my dear girl. You know that I never would have wanted your father to take you from me. I was just trying to find something positive to say, but it was wrong. I forget sometimes how much you loved Tomas.” She stepped over to Alessandra and gave her a hug, letting her cry on her shoulder for a long time. Lorena rubbed a hand over he
r back. “It’s okay. You cry today and get it out. Tomorrow you wake up and get on with your life.”

  Pulling away, Alessandra wiped her face with the backs of her hands and picked up the brush again. They worked in silence until the job was finished.

  “I should go start supper,” Lorena said, making her way toward the door. Turning back, she gave Alessa a weary look. “I’m selling the farm. Junior Rocha called this morning. He’s sending a realtor here to evaluate the property. He promised he’ll offer the market value.”

  Alessandra’s mouth hung open, and her body felt like it might collapse under the weight of this last blow. A sob started in her chest.

  “I know this disappoints you, but I can’t keep it. I’m sorry. It’s too much work for me. We are lucky to get the offer, otherwise it might have taken years to find a buyer for a property this size.”

  Alessandra’s bottom lip quivered as she stared at her mother. The thought of losing their home was a knife to her heart. “How could you? Vô would weep to know the family is losing the farm.”

  “For the first time in my life, Alessa, I’m living my own dream. The thought of tying myself to this place until I die is unbearable for me. I know you wish things could stay the same, but life moves forward whether we like it or not.”

  Alessandra put the brush down and walked out of the barn into the warmth of the low winter sun. She staggered through the rows of orange trees to the far end of the property, at times weeping and at times stoic. Finally reaching the last of the trees, she sat on a wooden bench her grandfather had built years ago. He put it there so he would have a nice spot to rest when his work was done.

  She could picture him here in the shade, wiping the sweat off his brow with a rag. He always had a smile for her, no matter how tired he was. They had sat right on this spot and shared countless oranges. He would tell her stories about Lorena as a girl or about his own childhood here on the farm. Or sometimes he would listen to her stories about fairies, and as she got older, about someone at school who had hurt her feelings or left her out. He always had a hug and a few quiet words of encouragement for her. She thought of him the day he had died and how he’d said she was too special to leave behind. A spiteful laugh escaped her throat at the memory. She was easy to leave. First her own father, then Trey and now her mother would leave her behind as well, taking away the only home she’d known.