Silent Hearts (Hamilton Stables 3)

by Melissa West

  “Thank you.”

  Becca started away just as Sage’s rough voice spoke again. “Don’t let them make you feel inferior. We might not have wealth, but that doesn’t make us less than them. The Hamiltons have long been royalty here, but that doesn’t mean they rule us. You are just as important as them, and you deserve a man who knows what he has.”

  She nodded to him, unable to form words and thankful for the first time that she’d cried so hard the day before, because maybe now she was all cried out and could survive this day without embarrassing herself.

  “All right, then; take that before it burns your hand.”

  Becca set down the plates at the first table and continued on around the diner, setting down plates, faking smiles, trying her very best not to be the dark cloud in the restaurant, bringing everyone else down with her depression. But the truth was she was sad in a way she never thought possible, and it wasn’t just because of Nick. It was the realization that all her dreams were just that—dreams. Silly, ridiculous dreams that would never be a reality.

  Needing a moment, she motioned to Sage that she was going on her nonsmoker break and stepped outside.

  “Becca!”

  What now? Becca spun around to see who had called for her at the same time Reagan ran up to her.

  “There you are!”

  For a second, fear replaced Becca’s sadness. “Are you okay? Are the kids?”

  Reagan waved her off. “Yeah, yeah. It’s not me. It’s you. Look what was delivered to my house by mistake! Look! It’s huge and thick and has to mean you were accepted.” She passed Becca a large envelope, the words University of Kentucky printed across the front.

  Becca’s eyes widened as she looked down at it and then up at her sister. Reagan was right—the envelope was huge and bulky. But Becca had already been through this once, and she was afraid her fragile heart couldn’t take any more breaking. She passed it back to her sister. “Can you put it on my counter? I can’t open it right now.”

  “Why?”

  “What if it’s a no? I mean, surely it’s a no, right?”

  “They don’t send nos in giant envelopes like this. Open it.” Reagan tried to put the envelope back in Becca’s hands, but she stepped away, waving her off.

  “I can’t.”

  “Fine, if you won’t open it, I’ll open it for you.” Reagan ripped open the envelope and pulled out the contents, a smile forming as she read the letter. Happiness took over her face as she focused back on Becca. “They said yes. You’re in!” She jumped up and down and handed the letter over to Becca, who was sure her sister was joking. Surely she was joking.

  But then Becca scanned the letter, tears pricking her eyes as she read. Apparently, her eyes were still open to happy tears, because she was in. Accepted. “We’re pleased to inform you that you’ve been accepted to the College of Nursing.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “I know! You’re going to be a nurse!”

  The letter rattled in Becca’s hands, and she realized she was shaking, excitement moving through her, a rush unlike anything she’d felt before. The rush of accomplishment, the rush of success, the rush of something finally going right.

  “I’m going to be a nurse.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The world had somehow turned dark overnight, but Nick told himself he had bounced back from misery before and he could do it again. Honestly, he should be an expert by now, but this was different. He felt like his body had been broken in half and he didn’t know how to function without the other side, how to walk around or breathe. How to be.

  He felt like a fool to think he could cut Becca out of his life without suffering the greatest loss of his lifetime; this was so much worse than every bad thing he’d experienced before it.

  Becca wasn’t just a friend or family—she was his match, the person put on this Earth for him, and he was put here for her, and his job was to protect her and keep her safe. And instead he’d devastated her with blow after blow.

  It had been two weeks, and a part of him wanted to call her and apologize, beg her to forgive him, offer her anything in the world to make her agree. But then he’d remember all the reasons he’d pushed her away in the first place, that he wasn’t where he needed to be for a relationship, that she deserved better, that until his life was in order he couldn’t guarantee the quality of person he would be each day.

  She deserved much, much more than a disgruntled version of Nick Hamilton, and lately that was all he could offer.

  An ad for Hamilton Stables flashed across the TV, and Nick watched as the camera showed the beauty of the farm, the advancements, an aerial shot of the full staff, hundreds of people dedicated to the farm, and then the declaration that it was a family-owned business.

  Family-owned.

  Family.

  And he was part of that family. He’d allowed his pride to stand in the way, but he was a Hamilton. He couldn’t remember how or why he’d separated himself from his family. When did he decide that it was more important to care for his father’s memory than to continue the legacy of a family that worked as a family—together?

  It was time for a change.

  Pushing off his couch, he went to his room, threw on some jeans and a pullover, his boots, and headed out the door, sure of something for the first time in a long time.

  He was done being the reason his family wasn’t together.

  The air was cold as it blew past him in the golf cart. It had been a long time since he’d driven it around the farm, and as he took in the scenery, he was proud of what Trip and Alex had done there. They deserved praise for their work, and maybe, just maybe, he could be a part of all this again.

  The main office was busier than usual, people milling all around, and Nick hoped Trip was in his office and not out of town or at the track.

  Ignoring the curious glances from the staff, Nick continued on down the main hall and knocked on the last door at the end, a small lump forming in his throat as he thought of Carter in that same office. But that legacy was over, and it was time to build a new one.

  “Come on in,” Trip called, but as Nick edged inside, his expression said he wished he’d ignored the knock. “Nick.”

  “Can we talk?”

  “You said a lot the last time we spoke. Words like asshole and traitor come to mind.”

  Nick flinched at the memory of him calling Trip after leaving the grave. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “What was that? I don’t understand. You like William, we’ve proven that he’s telling the truth, he was Dad’s half brother. You know business is declining. Why are you making things so hard?”

  With effort, Nick continued on into the office. His ego had no place in this meeting and he refused to let it come into play now. “I don’t know, but I’m sorry. For not listening to you, for not seeing what was obvious, for knowing the right decision to make but refusing to make it.”

  Trip eyed his brother, then clicked his phone, and, “Hamilton,” filled the air. “Hey, it’s me. Nick’s here. Can you come over?”

  “Yep,” Alex said. “Be there in a sec.”

  A door closed out in the hall, and then Trip’s door opened and Alex stepped in, an uneasy expression on his face. “Are we entering another yelling match? ’Cause if so, I’d like to grab my earbuds.” Even with the tension, he was smiling, never one to hold a grudge.

  “No yelling,” Nick said, releasing a long breath. “I actually came to say I’m sorry. And that y’all were right. I was wrong.”

  “Does that mean you’re agreeing to sell?”

  Nick licked his lips and considered the option one more time, but the truth was, his family was more important than Industries. Than the farm. Than any of it. He refused to be the reason they weren’t talking. And besides, the numbers spoke for themselves. He’d talked with the controller, ran over the numbers again himself. This was the right decision, and the business and staff would be safe under William’s control. “Yes,” Nick s
aid finally. “I’ll sign. I care more about our family than I do the legacy of what Dad created. I wanted to protect his work, but I was destroying it in the process. And destroying our relationship. I’m sorry for that. So yes, I’ll sign, but under one condition.”

  Trip straightened, readying for another argument. “What’s that?”

  “I work in the offices here. I don’t want to walk away from the family business. I want to help; whatever that is, I’ll do it.”

  Trip eyed Alex and then sighed loudly, and Nick feared he’d ruined their relationship, taken things too far, said too much. Then a wide smile took over Trip’s face. “We thought we’d have to convince you to come here. Alex had a plan all in place.”

  Alex grinned. “It may or may not have involved blackmail.”

  A laugh broke free from Nick this time. “The trophy bass?”

  “You know it. I caught that fish, and you were put on the cover of the damn magazine and given all those endorsements. That should have been me.”

  “Still saying that, huh?”

  “It was my setup that caught it.”

  Nick laughed again. “In my hands.”

  “Whatever.” Then the brothers all glanced at one another, the moment easier.

  “We’d be lucky to have you,” Trip said. “Alex is slammed with breeding and the training schedule has me traveling more these days. We need someone managing the business, all of it. The financials, keeping us on track. Double-checking the whole staff to make sure they have what they need. Setting tour dates. And no one would do a better job than you.”

  “I would love that. But I can also clean stalls, if that’s what you want.” At that, his brothers burst into laughter. “All right, fine. Maybe not the stalls thing.”

  “That’s what we thought, Ivy League boy. But we’ll put that brain of yours to good use, and you’ll likely have us in shape in no time. I’ll warn you, it’s a beast.”

  “Put me in, Coach.”

  Trip reached out to shake Nick’s hand, then pulled him into a hug instead. “I’ve missed you.”

  “Me too,” Alex said, patting his back. “Glad to have you back.”

  Nick swallowed hard. “Glad to be back. Now, not to flake on the first day, but I’ve got to head out.”

  “What?” the brothers said together.

  “Gotta go see about a girl.” It was the same thing he’d said to Mama V what felt like ages ago, but this time there was no doubt in his mind of what he wanted and he would do anything to get her.

  “Becca?” Nick searched frantically inside her house, not bothering to knock, though in hindsight he probably should have. It wasn’t like they were on the best of terms right now, but old habits died hard.

  “She’s not here,” a voice called from the kitchen, and Nick peered over to see Reagan there, making coffee. Nick’s gaze went to the coffeemaker beside her.

  “She bought a Keurig?”

  “Yep.” Reagan took a long sip, her gaze cold and her demeanor clear. She was dressed in head-to-toe black, which fit the glare she shot at Nick perfectly. “She’s not here.”

  Nick motioned outside. “Her Highlander is in the carport.”

  “She took Uncle Mark’s truck.”

  “Took it where?” Suddenly, Nick got the feeling he was missing something important, and as he peered around the house, he realized there were things missing. Lots of things. And boxes, some full, others waiting to be filled. “What is all this?”

  “She was accepted to the University of Kentucky’s nursing program. She’s moving to Lexington. Actually, she’s already there. She took the truck so she could pack in more boxes. She’s going to be a nurse.”

  At that Nick’s gaze snapped over to Reagan. “She got in.” He couldn’t keep the smile from his voice. She’d done it, her dream; she was going to be a nurse.

  “No thanks to you.”

  That stung, but Nick knew he deserved it. “You’re right. I screwed up. But I want to fix it. I was ... it doesn’t even matter why. There’s no excuse, but I love her, Reagan. And I’m hoping she loves me enough to forgive me. And then I’ll spend the rest of my life making this up to her, because she’s everything to me. Please, I’ve never asked you for anything, but I’m asking you now. Help me. Help me find her and show her how much she means to me. Tell me what I can do.”

  “Well,” Reagan said, her eyes sparking, and Nick feared he was in trouble asking the bad Stark sister for help. “There is one thing.” Reagan went around the island in the kitchen and thumbed through a stack of papers and mail sitting there. She found whatever she was looking for and passed it to Nick. “She wants this house.”

  He peered down at the printout. It was a ranch-style white house with black shutters and a red door, a white fence surrounding it. The landscaping was immaculate, everything about the house charming. Never had Nick seen a house that looked more like Becca than this one.

  “But you said she’s moving right now.”

  “She is. Into an apartment. She couldn’t afford the house; the bank denied her despite her having thirty percent to put down because she didn’t have ‘dependable employment.’”

  “But what about the diner?”

  “She quit to move to Lexington.”

  Nick eyed the printout again. “And you want me to . . . ?”

  Reagan smirked. “They call it a grand gesture for a reason.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Becca dropped her last box onto the floor in the tiny open-floor-plan apartment and glanced around.

  There was a kitchen. There was a family room. But it all sort of blended together, and the size of the space would easily fit into just her family room back home. Actually, the size of the entire apartment might fit inside her family room. The only bedroom was the size of a walk-in closet, and the only bathroom was barely large enough to bathe in. Two people couldn’t stand inside it comfortably, so it was probably good that Becca would be living there alone.

  She was alone. The word settled over her, and she thought it was time she got used to the idea of eating by herself at restaurants and having cats. Single people had lots of cats, right? Only Becca hated cats.

  With a long sigh and a swipe across her forehead to catch a bead of sweat, she sat down on the floor because she’d decided not to bring any of her furniture with her.

  Apparently, college towns had rental companies that would furnish a place, and then, when you moved out, they’d come pick it all up. And that sounded like music to Becca’s ears until the rental company called to tell her they would be delivering her stuff a week late.

  She thought longingly of the white house she’d found, how easy it would be for her to afford it with her new job at the Kentucky Tavern, a local steak house that was supposedly so packed the waitresses made a killing in tips alone.

  But neither that, nor the 30 percent she’d agreed to put down, was enough for the bank to finance her. She’d considered listing the diner as her current employment, sure Sage would cover for her, but she was never the liar her sister was, and so she’d nodded okay and immediately sought out other options. Which was what led her to the apartment.

  And really, the place wasn’t so bad. Small, sure, but bad? Not really. It was within walking distance of campus and her job. She would save a ton on gas and her utilities were all included. Win-win.

  But still, she hated the idea of not having a true home, which was why she’d elected to keep her grandmother’s house back in Triple Run. As long as it was there, she would always have a place to go. Even if the thought of going back to Triple Run made her want to cry her eyes out.

  With a long sigh for what might have been, Becca pushed off the floor and opened the door, prepared to head down for the last box, but instead she stopped short, narrowly colliding with the person who was on the other side of the door. The one person who could put her back together or wreck her completely.

  She tried not to sigh with relief as she took him in, all faded jeans and Hamilton Stab
les T-shirt, his hair longer than usual, his glasses smudged on the right side from him adjusting them. “Nick? What are you doing here?”

  Nick held up the box in his hands. “I was driving by and saw this random box out in a truck downstairs. Thought I’d bring it on up.” At her pointed stare, he added, “And then I was hoping you’d come somewhere with me.”

  She peered around him.

  “It’s just me.”

  “How did you know where to find me?” she asked, then it hit her. “Ah, Reagan.”

  Nick nodded. “I was very convincing.”

  “I wouldn’t give yourself that much credit. This is Reagan we’re talking about.” She crossed her arms and studied him. On closer inspection, he didn’t look so good. The areas around his eyes were black, his hair a disheveled mess, and there were far more smudges on his glasses than usual.

  “I just need a little bit of your time. I know I don’t deserve it, but you were always the better person here. I’m hoping the good Becca will give the bad Nick a few minutes. A half hour max.”

  With a shake of her head, Becca’s gaze found the floor. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. My heart ... it’s . . . I just don’t think so. But thanks for the box.”

  “Becca, please. Just a half hour.”

  It hurt Becca to see him, but the temptation was still there. They’d known each other a long time, and she hated to throw away all that history. Still ... she was moving forward and Nick was part of her past. “I don’t think twenty-four hours of talking would change our situation. We want different things.”

  Nick cocked his head, and Becca fought the urge to go to him. Even angry with him, she struggled to resist him. “Then it’s a good thing I don’t want to talk. I want to show you something.”

  Curiosity moved through her. It was one of the few attributes she’d inherited from her grandmother, and Nick knew she struggled to say no when there was a mystery involved.

  “Show me something?”

  “Just show you something. I won’t talk at all if you don’t want me to.”

  Becca’s gaze met his and her stomach tightened. God, did she ever love him. He was difficult and he’d hurt her worse than anyone else had dared, but she still loved him. “That’s not what I want.” Her heart throbbed painfully in her chest and she wished she could ask him to leave, wished he hadn’t come at all. Yet she couldn’t deny how good it felt to see him, how much she wished she could just put it all aside and go to him.