His Cowboy Heart

by Jennifer Ryan

  Small victory, but her shrink said those small victories would build until she found herself firmly rooted in the here and now, with the war and what happened a distant memory. Yeah, well, she didn’t know what happened to her. Not all of it. Despite the scars on her body that told the story, the details were still missing from her black mind.

  Her phone trilled with a text. She grabbed it off the nightstand and swiped the screen, noting the three missed calls from her old friend and the accompanying voice mails waiting along with the text he’d sent.

  TOBIN: Call me. I miss you.

  Yeah, I miss me, too.

  She tossed the phone back on the table next to the crispy dead fern. Tobin sent it to cheer her up. It didn’t. She didn’t feel bad for neglecting to water it.

  She tried not to feel much of anything these days.

  If she let herself feel one thing, she’d have to feel everything, and that felt like drowning.

  So she turned up the numb and shut down her heart.

  Light filled the room through the slit in the curtains she kept shut. She squinted and raised her hand to her forehead and rubbed the headache pounding behind her eyes, not from a bad night of sleep but another night drinking herself into oblivion, hoping to keep the nightmares away. It didn’t work. Never did. She needed to stop dulling the pain and find a way to make it stop.

  She fell back onto her pillow, hoping to relax and figure out how to make it all go away, then it hit her all at once and she sat bolt upright again. Shit. She checked the clock. Overslept, again.

  How that always happened when she barely slept at all eluded her.

  She rolled out of bed with a loud groan for the pain in her whole aching body, grabbed the uniform she hoped to never wear again, and put it on anyway. She’d promised she’d do this. A few pain pills would help her get through it. She only hoped she didn’t make a complete fool of herself in public, in front of the whole town, and hopefully not in front of the one man nothing and no one could erase from her screwed-up mind—or her broken heart it seemed.

  After four tours of duty, Jamie didn’t rattle easily, but the drive down Main Street sitting in the back of a convertible waving at all the Fourth of July parade onlookers set off all the bells and whistles in her gut. The urge to roll her eyes at herself didn’t override her brain’s unreasonable belief that she was in danger. She tried desperately to command her mind not to think every rooftop concealed a potential enemy sniper. That every backpack, tote, and garbage can along the route concealed a deadly IED. That any second someone would appear in the crowd with a rocket propelled grenade launcher on his shoulder aimed straight at her.

  Been there, done that, had the scars to prove it.

  And the messed-up mental state that went with it. That black hole in her memory haunted her day and night.

  Why the hell did I agree to do this? Put myself on display with the crowd here to witness my total meltdown.

  Suck it up. Get it done.

  Seemed she lived her whole life by that motto.

  She held her hands fisted in her lap. Her nails bit into her palms, but she didn’t let loose. Couldn’t really. The sting gave her something to focus on even as she desperately tried to keep the plastic smile plastered on her face. Her gaze swept the crowd again and again. No enemies. No escape, despite how she tried to find the easiest, safest way out of here. The urge to leap from the vehicle and run for cover nearly overrode her rational mind’s command to stay put, endure, get this done. If only her rational mind prevailed more often. She feared the crazy part that slowly but effectively took over like a black ooze coating and concealing that part of her that held a glimmer of hope that she had a shot at a normal life here in Montana—far away from the war.

  What was I thinking coming back here?

  The war still played out in vivid detail in her mind. Well, most of it anyway. That deep, dark, scary black hole—vital time lost—remained a mystery to her. The investigation into the incident remained open. The Army wanted answers about the attack on her supply convoy she couldn’t give. But they kept asking anyway, hoping her memory would return now that she’d come home.

  She couldn’t go back. She feared going back. She feared remembering what happened, but it nagged at her. Not knowing how she ended up in the field hospital, a guy ripping open her shirt, her fighting to get away, and him yelling at her that he was only trying to help, she’d been shot. Memories collided and muddied up reality.

  Her life felt like one big mud puddle right now. She looked into it hoping to see her clear reflection, but found she saw nothing but a mess she needed to clean up.

  If only I knew how.

  There in the gathering of onlookers lining the street just ahead stood her family. Her mother glaring up at her second stepfather in ten years as he cheered and smiled at Jamie. She appreciated his support, but knew that any kindness from him meant a backlash from her jealous mother. Her brother smiled and bounced his nine-month-old son in his arms. She hadn’t even known about her nephew until she arrived home a month ago. Even now, she had no idea how Zac ended up a single father, raising little Corey on his own with no mother in sight. No one wanted to speak about it. Zac refused to say a word about the woman he knocked up but never married.

  Of course, no one in the family really wanted to talk to Jamie. The first few days home went well. Everyone was happy to see her and asked her a million questions about her life overseas and living on military bases these last ten plus years. At first, it had been easy enough to answer and talk about the routine she loved so much about military life, the places she’d been, the different people she’d met. But the inevitable questions came about the scars she couldn’t hide, the way she acted, the changes in her personality, and what happened that sent her running home after staying away so long.

  She wanted to come back to something normal. Something familiar.

  The reasons she left had dulled over time, but came back into sharp reality the longer she spent under her mother’s roof. While everyone else remained the same, she’d changed—and not necessarily for the better, judging by the fact her family asked her to move out after a month living back home. She’d been all too happy to leave again because she couldn’t go back to being the girl she was before she left them all behind, or be the confident, purpose-driven woman she’d become in the military.

  That bomb blew up more than her supply truck; it blew up her life.

  The faces in the crowd went by in a blur despite the five mile an hour speed they took down the street. They neared the end of the parade route with one last blast of applause. She sucked it up, notched up the fake smile a few degrees, and waved to the crowd with her good arm. Thanks to the bullet to the chest, she still had trouble raising her other arm without it hurting like hell.

  A strange sense of being watched swept through her. Ridiculous since everyone along the parade route stared at her, but one man stood out among the crowd. Stinging tears pricked the backs of her eyes. The smile dropped from her lips. Time fell away and she was that young woman sitting across from a man in the local diner she couldn’t believe had asked her out, feeling in her gut one simple truth. That’s the guy.

  She’d wished for him every day since the day she left.

  Ford Kendrick stood with his two brothers, Rory and Colt. They stared at her as she passed. Both of Ford’s brothers held women at their sides. Rory had his arm around a pretty and pregnant blonde, a thick gold band on his left hand. Colt held a beautiful dark haired woman with striking blue eyes close, a ring on his hand, too. Wow, both of them married. She wondered if Ford had a wife, kids, the happy life he’d once wanted with her. The thought pinged her heart, sending ripples of pain through her soul.

  He’d wanted those things with her until she told him she was ready to leave and learned he wanted to stay. She left for reasons that seemed important at the time, but felt very petty and inconsequential now, because her heart remained here with him—but her mind told her she was no good
for him.

  And where was Grandpa Sammy? She missed their talks, the way he always encouraged her, and the way he loved life and flirting with every girl young or old. He should be with his boys. She didn’t want to think the worst, but his absence pierced her heart with a sharp pain.

  Calm and so cool, Ford reached up with his right hand and touched his dark brown Stetson in salute to her. The simple gesture warmed her heart.

  What did it mean?

  She tried not to read anything into it. But she thought his intense stare and the slight tilt to his lips meant he’d missed her, too. Wishful thinking? Probably. Still, that dark spot in her soul lit with something that felt very much like hope.

  She wondered if Ford told his brothers what happened. Maybe he’d told them why he changed his mind about leaving with her. Why he didn’t ask her to stay, but made it clear he wanted her to go. Probably not. Ford tended to keep things to himself. But once upon a time, he’d shared his thoughts, his dreams, his plans for their future with her. Then suddenly something changed. She still didn’t understand despite the lonely hours she spent at night thinking about it, him, everything.

  She’d wanted that quiet, lovely life, living on a ranch with the man she loved, raising their children. The kind of life and family she hadn’t had as a child. That dream still lived inside of her, even though she’d never found anyone she loved as much as Ford to share it with. She hadn’t been strong enough to fight for it then, hadn’t believed she deserved it, or him. So she’d run off to see something of the world outside of Montana and her mother’s house, hoping to make something of the girl who always fell short of the mark like her mother always told her she did because Jamie Keller was nothing.

  Well, maybe her mother was right all along, because Ford stopped seeing the girl he thought her to be, saw her for who she really was, and broke up with her—the girl who lived up to her mother’s expectations and ended up nothing.

  Chapter 2

  Jamie followed her family into the restaurant behind Zac still thinking of Ford and what that tip of the hat meant. She wanted to take her nephew, Corey, into her arms, hug him close to her battered heart, and smell his powdery baby scent. She didn’t trust herself to hold the sweet boy, despite the longing in her heart to connect with him.

  She wondered if she’d ever be well enough to have a family of her own. This past year as her tour of duty came to an end, she’d dreamed of another life with a husband and children.

  That thought took her back to Ford. He looked better than any man should in his cowboy hat, tight jeans, and boots. She’d wondered what it would be like to see him again and had known that coming home meant a high probability that it would happen. You ran into everyone eventually in a small town.

  Still, she’d hoped she’d be better, stronger, able to deal with the riot of emotions swirling in her head and heart. Instead, she barely registered the people around her, because she was so focused on every little nuance of the moment she saw him again. The emptiness inside of her had briefly filled with the happiness of memories of the months she’d spent with him playing out in her mind in a matter of seconds.

  “Stop acting like a zombie and pay attention,” her mother ordered from across the table.

  Jamie jumped and looked around, realizing the waitress stood next to her smiling and waiting patiently for her to say something.

  “What do you want to drink?” Zac asked, helping her out.

  “Uh . . .” She had no idea what she wanted. Sometimes the simplest decisions seemed so hard to make.

  “Just bring her a Coke,” her mother snapped when Jamie took too long to answer.

  Pissed off, she glared at her mother and said to the waitress, “Iced tea. No lemon.” The soda would have been fine, but she didn’t want or need her mother to make decisions for her. She didn’t need her mother’s impatience and indifference to the many struggles, big and small, Jamie faced each day.

  The waitress rushed off to get their drinks.

  Jamie flinched when the bell over the door dinged behind her. Bad position. She hated not having her back to the wall. Exposed, vulnerable, she tensed, waiting for an attack that would never come.

  Zac gave her a forlorn look. “Ford’s here.”

  Ford and his family, judging by the number of footsteps behind her, walked in for lunch after the parade, too. She felt his gaze on her, but didn’t turn around to acknowledge him.

  Zac nodded his hello, but didn’t say anything.

  Sweat broke out on her brow, knowing Ford would see her again at her worst. She didn’t want him to see the scars she couldn’t hide and the ones he couldn’t see but were obvious nonetheless.

  She sucked in a calming breath, trying to regulate her heartbeat, which seemed to speed up every time she thought about Ford. She tracked him to a table several down from them with her peripheral vision. Jeans were made for his long legs and damn fine ass. He sat and took the menu with a smile from the same blonde waitress who’d taken their drink order. A zing of jealousy shot through her. He’d probably had a string of girlfriends since she left. The thought clenched her heart. She wanted to be the one he smiled at, the one he loved like back in the days when they ate here all the time. She’d order fries. He’d get onion rings. They’d pretend they didn’t know one stole half from the other’s plate. They’d end up in a spoon duel when he tried to steal bites from her hot fudge sundae.

  They’d had so much fun together, which made it so hard to understand why he’d ended it. The rejection she’d felt the day he sent her away rose up again. The ache of missing him throbbed in her heart.

  For sanity’s sake, she shut off thoughts of Ford, the past, how good he looked, and focused on the menu as the waitress took her family’s order. Didn’t really matter what she ordered, she probably wouldn’t eat it anyway. Not with her stomach tied in knots thanks to Ford’s presence and her innate need to guard against anything and everything around her that could be a potential threat, despite the fact none existed. Not here.

  Her mental reassurance that all was well didn’t turn off her survival instincts.

  She should have known the only person she needed to guard against sat at the table with her. It took less than half an hour for her mother to destroy the tenuous hold Jamie had on her emotions.

  “I can’t believe you let that man go. Not that you have what it takes to hold on to him.” Her mother wound up as the waitress finished handing out their meals. “Those Kendrick brothers are some of the most handsome men in the state.”

  No doubt. Jamie wanted to smack the leering grin right off her mother’s face as she surveyed Rory, Ford, and Colt at the other table.

  “Two of them found beautiful, sweet girls. Won’t be long before Ford—”

  “Mom. Don’t,” Zac warned.

  “What? She’s the idiot who left him.”

  He left me. She hadn’t told her mother that to avoid giving her more ammunition to taunt Jamie.

  “The man is good-looking and owns one of the largest ranches in the county. She could have been set for life. Instead she gives it all up to play soldier. Look how that turned out for you.” She aimed her disappointment filled gaze at Jamie. “He’s moved on. He won’t even look at you. Why would he? You’re a mess. You look like a boy with that short hair and that uniform. You’re too pale and thin. Men like a woman with curves. You could use some makeup, not that it will hide that hideous scar on your jaw. You used to try to be pretty, but nothing will help now with that ugly thing slashed across your face.”

  “Mom.” The edge to Zac’s voice didn’t deter their mother.

  “It will be a wonder if you ever get a man to look at you again. Ford never will. You ruined that for good.”

  The rage exploded and Jamie slammed her hands on the table. “Shut up!” Jamie held her finger pointed at her mother and shook her head, knowing she wasn’t worth it. Nothing Jamie said or did would change the spiteful woman who couldn’t spare a kind word for her daughter who needed
one more than her next breath.

  Her mother sat back, not at all surprised by Jamie’s outburst. She’d instigated it for a reason. To prove that she was right and better than Jamie. Her wide eyes narrowed and filled with triumph that she’d gotten under Jamie’s skin. Again.

  Zac reached over and placed his hand over hers. She yanked her hand free.

  “Jamie, let it go.”

  If only she could.

  Ford sat with his family across the diner from Jamie and her family, still in disbelief he could look up and see her sitting right there. He never thought she’d come back. It still felt like she was a world away. Seeing her today set off a wave of memories he’d tried to keep locked down all these years. One glimpse of her unleashed them in his mind. He tried to see all of them, but they flipped through his memory like a movie in fast-forward. He wanted to slow them down, savor them like he never had in the moment. He wanted to go over to her, say hi as though he had a right to talk to her despite the way he’d ended things. He wanted to touch her soft skin, smell her sweet spring scent, and hold her close—like he used to at their spot under their favorite tree—until the haunted look in her eyes disappeared.

  The girl he used to know as well as he knew himself sat across the room, but she didn’t look the same. Sure, she’d cut her long reddish blonde hair into a short pixie cut that suited her fairylike cuteness. She’d lost weight, or just transformed into all lean muscles that spoke to a strength that had become a part of her carriage. He liked the physical changes. They added to her beauty. But when he looked at her, he didn’t see the bright, sweet, smiling girl he used to know. She looked uncomfortable and ready to jump out of her skin.

  He’d read the article about her in the local paper. He’d scoured the internet for the few mentions of her in reports about the war and her return home with fellow injured soldiers, and what he’d discovered tormented him.

  Every night she was gone, he would watch the evening news, looking for her in the meager war coverage. He’d never caught even a glimpse of her in one of those supply trucks, never saw her among the soldiers they showed. He’d prayed for her safe return. He should have begged for her to survive without a mark on her body, heart, or mind. He got his first wish, but not his last because she’d endured more than anyone should ask of one person and he saw it all in her eyes, even if her clothes covered the marks war left on her body.