Stubborn Hearts

by Hutchinson, Heidi

  She could count on one hand the total amount of interactions she'd had with her father; he'd never been kind. But he'd also never been cruel. This was the kind of enlightening experience she wished she could have skipped.

  He hated her.

  He hated her mother.

  He just usually hid it behind a polished front of pressed suits and plastic hair. The consummate professional.

  There was nothing professional about his behavior now.

  “Making her cry doesn't exactly solve the problem at hand, does it?” Jesse interrupted, slightly moving his body so that Ryan was more behind him than beside him.

  Caleb's hateful eyes moved from Ryan back to Jesse. “You think there's another player?”

  “I do.”

  “Not my insane ex-relatives?”

  Jesse shook his head. “All they want is Ryan's money. They don't have the collective IQ to pull off the long term planning something like this would take.” He shifted just slightly again and his body blocked Caleb from seeing Ryan.

  “Then give me something to go after,” Caleb snapped. “You've been on the road for long enough, you had to have seen something by now. Unless you've been spending all your time locked up in toxic pussy.”

  “Careful, Caleb,” Jesse warned darkly. “Your vulgarity is showing.”

  Ryan sucked in a breath as a stray memory clicked into place. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush of the emotional onslaught against her psyche that rushed all of the details of these past few months through her brain at light speed, but it happened suddenly and without warning. An answer to the question that had been haunting them. Jesse heard her, his head tilting just slightly her direction.

  “Amy Simpson,” she whispered. Jesse's shoulders stiffened and he took another step to block her from Caleb more fully.

  It was a wonder Ryan hadn't noticed before, but it wasn't until her dad brought up her being a manipulative female that she widened her perimeter of suspicion. Amy Simpson was the daughter and heiress of SimpCore — Red's original owner. The same owner who didn't want to sell while Red was winning. Who was more than happy to sell once the horse was losing. Had, in fact, rushed the sale.

  And Amy had been at every race they ran — even the ones that didn't have an entry from SimpCore.

  Amy had access to the stable, to the owner's boxes, to the people.

  “You might want to have a conversation with Amos Simpson about his daughter's presence at all of our races this season.”

  Caleb was quiet, Ryan couldn't see him to read his expression, but she could read the tightness in Jesse's shoulders. Finally, he relaxed a bit and Caleb stepped toward the stall door, casting a look briefly at Ryan before addressing Jesse. He'd clearly pulled himself together, now having someone else to focus his ire on. The professional facade had slid seamlessly back in place, giving Ryan a chill that ran through her entire body, hair to toes.

  “Bring her next week. We need to discuss what happened here today.”

  Jesse nodded curtly and didn't breathe easy until Caleb's footsteps had faded. He turned toward Ryan but she couldn't look at him quite yet, so she crouched to the stall floor and continued gathering her things together.

  “Ryan,” he said softly, coming closer and crouching down beside her.

  “I'm not speaking to you right now, Jesse Hart,” she said flatly, thankful that her tears had stopped.

  “Please look at me, doll.”

  What pissed her off the most about that request was his tone. Gentle, soothing. So very Jesse. A Jesse she had, until ten minutes ago, trusted completely. She granted his request and shot him a narrowed look, he visibly flinched.

  “Don't try to tell me all the reasons that you thought it was okay to betray my trust. Don't try to rationalize all the ways you misled me. I'm having a bad day. One of the worst. So if you could just stop being a dick for five minutes so I can get out of here, I'd appreciate it.”

  Jesse held her gaze and she was afraid he was going to call her bluff. The lump in her throat that she was having difficulty breathing around and the tightness in her lungs threatened to give her up and throw her at his mercy. Because part of her wanted to be lied to. To be told that she had misunderstood and that they were still friends. That she'd misheard Caleb's ugly words, that it wasn't as bad as it felt.

  If Jesse told her, she'd believe him. She knew it.

  He finally nodded and dropped his eyes to the floor.

  Ryan finished packing her things in the silence.

  Then she left for the airport without him.

  He didn't make their flight.

  She tried to pretend like she didn't care.

  On the outside, she was successful.

  On the inside?

  Well, there wasn't much left on the inside.

  It had been removed and smeared across a stall floor in Vinton, Louisiana.

  fifteen

  “Being soft is not a sign of weakness, but one of courage.”

  Tampa, Florida

  November

  Jeremiah had no idea what to think.

  Two days ago he had gotten a text from Ryan with a lengthy apology and her decision to move into his place.

  At first he'd been suspicious, then happy, then back to suspicious again. He had called her and she didn't sound like herself. She was distant and cagey, but she was serious about moving in. So he told her he'd come home early and help her.

  He was excited, if not hesitant, because this was what he'd been wanting.

  And then he saw her.

  At first he didn't even recognize her. She'd gained a considerable amount of weight. Especially in her face. And her ass. And everywhere, really.

  Jeremiah didn't want to be the dick that broke up with his girlfriend simply because she'd put on a few pounds. But she looked like a completely different person. And she acted like it too.

  She was quiet, tired, withdrawn.

  He walked into their bedroom and his eyes traveled over her over-sized t-shirt and sweat pants. She had her laptop in the cradle of her legs and was typing away furiously.

  “Hey,” he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

  She glanced up and lifted her eyebrows, smiling at him. Her smile was also different. It was also tired.

  “We need to talk,” he stated, wondering if she would tell him the truth.

  Ryan frowned and closed the laptop. “Okay...”

  Jeremiah took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his ears. “Just tell me the truth, that's all I ask.”

  Her frown deepened. “I always tell you the truth.”

  Jeremiah nodded and pressed his lips together. “Are you pregnant?”

  Her eyes widened as her head jerked back. “What?”

  “Are you?”

  “Are you serious?” she asked. “Don't you think I would have told you something that?”

  Jeremiah sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “Is it Hart's?”

  Ryan sucked in a sharp breath and tears welled in her eyes. “Please tell me you don't actually believe that.”

  “Ryan, sweetheart,” Jeremiah said gently. “I'm not stupid. You and I haven't slept together in months.”

  Ryan's face flushed a deep red and tears ran down her cheeks. “I'm not pregnant, asshole! I got fat!” She tossed her laptop to the side and stood up, her body shaking.

  Jeremiah reached for her but she darted around him and raced into the bathroom, shutting the door. He dropped his chin to his chest and sighed again.

  This was not the Ryan he thought she was. After months and months of her sass and arguing and drama, he was kind of over it. Now she was in the bathroom crying? He'd picked her because she was low maintenance. This wasn't what he had signed up for.

  And he didn't believe for one minute that she wasn't pregnant. No one gained weight that fast.

  Oh well, it was Hart's mess now. He wanted it? He could have it.

  Jeremiah stood up and knocked on the bathroom door.

 
; “What?”

  “I'm just gonna say it. If you want me to believe that you've just gained some weight, fine. But I'm not attracted to you anymore.”

  The silence on the other side of the door was a welcome reprieve from the sniffling.

  “So, let's not do this, okay?” he continued. “I'll give you the week to move out. I'll be in Texas anyway, so that should make this easier.”

  He waited for her to say something. She didn't. So Jeremiah grabbed his jacket and went to Cole's for the night.

  It was too bad, really.

  Ryan was a pretty cool chick.

  But Jeremiah wasn't going to get suckered into raising someone else's child.

  ***

  Caleb didn't stand when Jesse Hart let himself into his office in the main building at Zacherson Racing Stables for their weekly meeting. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes at his trainer.

  “I told you to bring her.” Caleb didn't like having to repeat himself. He really didn't like being ignored.

  Jesse held his eyes as he came in and didn't reply.

  If Caleb didn't respect the other man's fearlessness so much, he'd be mad as hell about it. But he recognized that it was Jesse's inability to back down that made him such an asset. Why they were winning with a condemned horse.

  “I need to know what she knows,” Caleb tried again.

  Jesse shook his head once. “She doesn't know anything she hasn't already told me. Trust me, Caleb, she tells me everything.”

  “You mean, she used to tell you everything,” Caleb corrected.

  The muscle in Jesse's jaw jumped. Caleb's words had struck true. The trainer had fallen for his manipulative daughter against Caleb's warnings.

  “I can't really blame you,” Caleb said, giving Jesse the out he needed so they could move on. “She's very charming. It's in her blood. Her mom had me a lot longer than I care to admit.”

  Jesse's chest rose with his deep breath but he kept his thoughts to himself. Caleb studied his rigid posture for a moment before ignoring the silent warning and pushing some more buttons.

  “How deep are you in this with her? Is she pregnant yet?”

  Jesse's eyes flared. “Your line of questioning is so inappropriate I don't even know which asinine comment to address first. You obviously don't know one damn thing about your daughter, or you'd know that she's not like that.”

  “They're all like that,” Caleb sneered.

  “She doesn't even like to be touched!” Jesse snapped, losing his composure and planting both fists on Caleb's desk. “She's probably the most honest person I've ever met. She doesn't feed people bullshit, and she doesn't pretend to be something she's not.”

  Caleb sighed. “Is this going to be a problem?”

  Jesse stood up, his guard returning. “I guess that depends on what you mean.”

  “Is she still part of the team or do I need to tell Doc he can't stay home with his cancer-stricken wife?” Caleb clarified.

  “I'll fix it. But after the holiday. I want to give her some space.”

  Caleb held his eyes for several seconds. “Fine. I suppose I should submit to your expertise.” He straightened in his chair and cleared his throat. “I've set up a meeting with Amos Simpson for next week. I'll see what I can find out from him about his daughter's presence lately. Good call on that, by the way.”

  “That was Ryan's call,” Jesse surprised him by saying.

  “Huh, that's very interesting.”

  Jesse remained impassively pissed off.

  Caleb sighed again and leaned forward. “I know you like her. But it's important that you not trust her for this to work.”

  “That's where I think you're wrong,” Jesse finally said. “She's smart, she's clean. Trusting her is the only thing that's gonna save your ass.”

  Caleb frowned, new thoughts starting to form about the upcoming races. Jesse might actually have a very good point.

  “I'll take that into consideration.”

  ***

  Ryan stared at one lonely turkey left in the cooler in the supermarket. She couldn't figure out if she was going to buy it and try to make it, or if she was going to buy a bottle of wine and call that Thanksgiving.

  Her birthday had been last month.

  It had gone by relatively unnoticed, which she had expected, but she'd also been busy, she hadn't had time to really think about it. Jeremiah had sent her flowers. Which was very nice.

  Not that she thought of him as a nice person anymore. He'd sort of smashed her ideals to pieces two days ago leaving her with the conclusion that men were pigs. At least the ones in her life.

  But tomorrow was Thanksgiving, and she was going to officially be alone.

  The first holiday without her mom.

  Every year she had made it special. No matter what. The turkey, the fixings, she'd invite the neighbors. She turned their home into a happy, warm place. It was a day that Ryan had only fond memories of.

  But that had all died with her mom, hadn't it?

  Just like everything else.

  Someone brushed past her, reaching into the cooler and grabbing the turkey.

  Well, that decided that.

  Wine it was.

  She sighed and turned around. Her cell phone buzzed in her sweater pocket. She took it out and glanced at the screen.

  Vic.

  Huh. He must be out of jail.

  Ryan had managed to get her car out of impound a couple days ago. It had been nearly totaled. She'd had to have it towed, it wasn't even drive-able. Running over a mailbox had been quite destructive. She still wasn't sure what to think about all of that. It had cost her a whack to free her car. Money that she should probably be holding onto since she still wasn't sure when the accounts would be... thawed? Unfrozen?

  Whatever. She shook her head and answered the phone.

  “What?”

  “Happy Holidays to you too, sweetheart,” Vic replied with a dark chuckle.

  “What do you want?” Ryan repeated, making slow steps in the direction of the wine aisle.

  “Who pissed in your cheerios?” he asked.

  Ryan narrowed her eyes at the tile floor in front of her. Was he seriously trying to joke with her? “Vic, you stole my car while I was out of town —”

  “Borrowed it. I had intentions of returning it.”

  “Crashed it while you were drunk and got yourself arrested. I had to pay to get my own car out of police impound. I can't even drive it. I had to take a cab to the grocery store —”

  Vic's sigh cut through her words. “When are you gonna let that go? It can't be changed now anyway. Might as well move on.”

  Ryan's mouth fell open. “Let it go?” she asked, her voice dropping to dangerous levels of anger, which was really the first time in a week she'd shown any kind of emotion at all.

  “Life is too short to let stuff like that get to you,” Vic continued on as if bestowing his pearls of wisdom on the ungrateful. “We're family and it's the holidays. Family should be together for the holidays. Dinner is at noon tomorrow at Amanda's.”

  Ryan closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You're inviting me over for Thanksgiving dinner?”

  “Yep. Bring a pie, not pecan — Amanda hates pecan. And a couple bottles of wine.”

  Ryan's head tried to comprehend what was happening, what he was saying. But she couldn't. This had to be some kind of joke or prank. “You stole my car, you contested the will and froze my assets. I can't even finish my schooling until — ”

  “Fine,” Vic said sharply. “I tried to include you. But if you think you're better than us, then you can forget it.”

  The phone disconnected and Ryan listened to the silence on the other end for a minute before she curled it into her fist. She didn't even get to the part where her dad and best friend suspected her of messing with their prize race horse simply because of who her blood was.

  It just kept getting worse. Everyone said that eventually things would settle down
and get better. Isabella, Kelly, Doc, Triston. They all said the same things. But they were just guessing. No one actually knew if it was going to get better.

  She grabbed a bottle of Merlot off the shelf and marched to the check out. Did she like Merlot? Not particularly. But it seemed like the kind of wine you would drink when your life had turned to shit and you were still going to try and have a classy as fuck Thanksgiving.

  “Have a Happy Thanksgiving,” the clerk, who was probably her age but looked so much younger, said with a bright smile.

  Ryan glanced at his name tag. “Thanks, Pete. You too.”

  She stared at him for a moment longer than Pete was comfortable with because he shifted, swallowed, and looked around nervously. “Anything else I can help you with?”

  Ryan lifted her chin. “No. Sorry. Have a nice holiday.”

  She gripped the brown paper bag that held her wine and left the store.

  ***

  It wasn't until the credits began rolling on Ghostbusters that Ryan really started to regret the Merlot.

  But it was when she dropped her ringing phone into the toilet by accident, that she knew she'd made a terrible mistake.

  ***

  Jesse knew he was crossing a line that couldn't be uncrossed. It didn't stop him.

  He had already made too many choices that he could never take back, he wasn't about to start second guessing himself now.

  He's never been to the affluent community on the west end of the bay. He'd never been invited.

  But his truck found Ryan's house as surely as a wave found the shore.

  He parked in her driveway and stared up at the house that glowed faintly in the moonlight. If she'd been anyone else, he would never have bothered all those weeks ago. He would have given her a nod to her attractive smile and her infectious laugh and he would have been done with it.

  But this was Ryan.

  The girl who had everything taken from her again and again and again.

  And she still smiled.

  That smile.

  Fuck him.

  That smile had been the only thing keeping him sane the past couple of months.