by Karen Rock
Craig dropped to the ground and leaned forward, his fingers twisting one strand of hay over another and another in a repeating pattern. “You can catch up.”
“How?”
“You shared your experiences to help others.” His hands paused in their task. “How about talking about your past to help yourself?”
A moment passed, then two, before his meaning sank in. “You think I need therapy?”
“What would you tell yourself if you were one of your clients?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it, unable to formulate her tumbling thoughts into a coherent sentence. All the while, Craig continued braiding his straw plait as if he had all the time in the world. The cheering crowd snagged her attention again. Another pair of ropers, this time Jewel and Jared, expertly trapped and trussed a bellowing calf.
She knew how the poor, panic-stricken creature felt. While in Kandahar, she’d been mostly trapped on its base, waiting for disaster to strike, never knowing how or when or where. The constant state of anticipation, of dread, had never left her. Sometimes she’d simply wished for a strike so she could stop worrying about it...crazy as it sounded.
Did she need therapy?
Unlike her fellow vets, she hadn’t seen true combat... “I don’t want to keep reliving the past—it needs to stay there,” she said at last as James galloped into the arena and circled it atop a massive stallion, performing tricks in the saddle.
“What’s behind that belief?”
“Because I can’t find peace if I don’t put it behind me.” As she watched, James deftly switched sides in the saddle, touching the ground with his feet before popping up and over his horse. How many more acts before Justin’s bull ride? She couldn’t stick around to watch.
“Is it ever truly behind you if you don’t deal with it?”
She thought of the advice she gave her patients and had only one answer. “No.”
“And how do you feel when you consider a life without Justin?” Craig twisted his braid, forming a circle.
Miserable, her heart said before she could answer.
Craig continued looping and tucking his straw plait. “You can’t go forward when obstacles from the past block the way.”
“You’re saying I need therapy.” A couple of brightly dressed clowns appeared in the corral, catching her eye. One she recognized as Cole, while the other bore him enough of a resemblance to be another Loveland sibling. Her pulse sped. They had to be there for the bull riding.
“What do you think?”
She’d been so worried about falling apart and abandoning others if she relived the tragedies that triggered her breakdown, she’d abandoned herself in the process. Justin said he had to live his life for himself as well as for her. Devotion to another didn’t mean giving up everything—it meant compromise, it meant work, it meant being true to yourself and each other.
Yesterday she’d panicked when he’d fallen off his dirt bike. She’d thought it meant she couldn’t handle his life, but it’d really proved she hadn’t learned how to cope with her own, despite all her experience counseling others how to do so.
She’d faced her past when she’d confessed it to Paul and a listening Justin at the Halloween parade, but she hadn’t dealt with it. She’d considered herself lucky for surviving the war unscathed, but she was wounded, too. Surviving and living weren’t the same thing.
If she’d addressed her issues, worked through them, she might have coped better. She’d warned Justin she might never get better when they’d spoken in the church, but what steps had she taken to heal?
Physician, heal thyself...
“I want Justin. I want happiness.”
A bell shrilled and metal clanged as a gate opened. Maverick shot out atop a wildly bucking bull, spinning in a blur of circles. Justin would be next. And she needed to be there for him. She wouldn’t abandon him like she’d abandoned others. She wouldn’t let her weakness get the better of her. Not when it came to Justin or anyone else. Including herself. Not ever again.
“How do you achieve happiness?”
“I need to deal with my past. Thank you, Craig.” She kissed his cheek and sprinted across the field as Maverick flew off the gray beast. Clowns rushed in, waving their hands frantically to distract the enraged, twirling bull as the professional rider effortlessly leaped over the fence and out of harm’s way.
“Justin!” she shouted when she reached the corral.
He stopped adjusting the rope attached to the black bull he straddled in the chute and looked up sharply. When his eyes met hers, they rounded in surprise.
“Good luck!”
The bell shrilled and the animal bolted, carrying Justin with him.
She forced her eyes to stay on Justin as he grappled to keep his seat atop the incensed animal. His bandaged hand swayed overhead, the other firmly gripping the rope. His body bent and leaned, forward then back, side to side, as the bull kicked, drove, stopped, spun then full-out sunfished, all four legs in the air, to dislodge Justin.
The moment they touched ground, the animal whirled in a head-snapping 360-degree turn, then jerked at whiplash speed in the opposite direction. Justin sailed through the air and crashed, headfirst, at the bull’s stamping hooves.
The crowd screamed, and a sob flew from Brielle’s mouth. She grabbed hold of the fence to keep herself upright, refusing to be weak.
“Justin!”
A flurry of hooves pounded over Justin’s body before the clowns distracted the furious beast, driving it away from the motionless rider.
She ducked through the arena’s fence and rushed to an unconscious Justin’s side. Blood gushed from a deep thigh gash, and she yanked off her scarf and tied it around his leg, her breath rasping harsh in her throat. She’d seen men bleed out in seconds without a tourniquet.
Please, please, please, she pleaded, Lord, save him.
“Don’t move him,” cautioned Sierra, joining her. “He might have a spinal injury.”
Tears blurred Brielle’s vision as she doggedly maintained pressure on his wound. “I’m here, sweetheart,” she whispered in his ear. “I love you.”
Would he wake to hear her say it again?
Would he wake at all?
* * *
“YOU SHOULD GO home and get some sleep, dear.”
Brielle shook her head at Joy’s advice and raised stinging eyes to a heavily bandaged Justin. He lay beneath a white sheet, his hand, strapped up to various monitors, lying motionless alongside his body. A foot-to-hip cast encased his raised left leg, his head was swathed in white gauze and a metal splint protected his broken nose. After an emergency surgery to repair his femoral artery last night, he’d briefly woken, then slipped back into unconsciousness, his brain recovering from trauma.
“You must need to eat. Can I get you anything?”
Brielle shook her head.
Joy’s warm hand covered hers and squeezed. “Justin’s tough as old boots, honey. He’s going to pull through this.”
“How do you know?”
“I have faith,” she said simply, her expression grave, her eyes red rimmed and exhausted. “Call me as soon as he wakes. I hate to leave, but I’ve got to pick up a prescription for the baby and run it to the ranch. He and Sofia are still down with the flu. James texted and said Jewel’s tire blew, but they’ll be here shortly once they change it. Jared’s at Amberley’s race, but they’re coming back, too, once she’s finished. Will you be okay on your own for a bit?”
Brielle nodded, glum and guilt ridden since she’d thrown off Justin’s concentration just before he went out on the bull, probably causing his accident.
Joy swooped down and hugged her briefly. “See you soon then, honey.”
The door clicked shut behind Joy, snuffing out the rattle of a wheeled medical cart and a nurse’s greeting to Mrs. Cade.
&
nbsp; When Brielle closed her eyes, she heard the crowd’s screams again, the bellowing of the rampaging bull, the splintering of bones that cracked loud enough to be heard over the din, then the siren’s wail.
She kept seeing Justin’s wound—a messy, deep gash like she’d seen in the war...a living, pulsing thing, pumping out blood as if trying to rid him of it. Her jeans were still dark with it.
And she saw Justin’s face, the moment after his fall when he briefly opened his eyes and looked at her. There had been concern, not for himself, despite being on the ground unable to move, but for her. He’d whispered, “Don’t worry,” before passing out again, his last conscious thought about her.
He wasn’t her dark rider, but a white knight. She’d thought herself his rescuer when he’d been the one on the fatal day they’d crashed, heaven-sent to save her. To bring her out of the dark and into the light.
She sat motionless on the plastic chair because she didn’t know how to do anything else. She’d stay by Justin’s side, praying for a miracle, a second chance to make things right between them. She sank her head into her hands and listened to her breathing, in and out.
In and out. Her body smelled unfamiliar, of blood and antiseptic and something acrid left over from primal fear. She noticed her hands shook, but she wasn’t sure if it was low blood sugar or exhaustion, and somehow the thought of trying to find food was way beyond her.
Movement was beyond her.
She closed her eyes and tried to remember what it felt like, a couple weeks ago, to lie in the hay beside Justin, how he’d held her tight, the reassuring scent of his warm shirt, the low rumble of his voice, sweet kisses he’d showered on her face.
This was what catastrophe did: it stripped away the white noise and the fluff, the what if I, and the should I really? She loved Justin. She knew it with a stinging clarity. She wanted to feel his arms around her, hear him talking as they sat atop Miracle Point and howled at the harvest moon. She wanted to lasso him right there in bed and pull him to her. She never wanted to be apart again. Whatever storms the world held, they’d face them together. Whatever mountains loomed, they’d scale them side by side.
Why hadn’t she been able to tell him her feelings? Why had she wasted so much time worrying about what she couldn’t control instead of what was important?
And then she let out an involuntary sob.
“Don’t,” a voice croaked.
Hope shoved her from the chair and over to Justin’s bedside.
“Justin?”
His dark eyelashes fluttered then slowly lifted. Golden-green hazel eyes gleamed. “Am I dead?”
Tears welled in her eyes as she lifted his hand to her mouth and pressed a kiss on the back of his knuckles. “No.”
“Good.”
A small smile tugged up the corner of her trembling mouth. “Very good.”
“How long?” he rasped.
“Since the accident?”
He nodded.
“Over twenty-four hours.”
“The vote?”
A gasp burst from her. She’d forgotten the town was determining Fresh Start’s fate today, her thoughts focused only on Justin. It figured her tough guy’s first thought would be for someone, or something, other than himself.
“I haven’t heard. I’m just relieved you’re awake. I was so worried you might not...” She stopped, unable to finish the thought.
“I’m tough.” His fingers skimmed over the bandages covering his head as his eyes flitted down to his cast leg. “How do I look?” Despite everything, a glimmer of amusement lightened his eyes, only making her cry harder.
“Invincible.”
“No, that’s you.”
Was that how he saw her, despite her fears, her hiding, her avoidances? Crazy. “Want some water?”
He nodded, wincing at the small motion, then gently but firmly took the cup she held and brought it to his mouth. After a long sip through the straw, he passed it back.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” he said, his voice stronger, clearer. He slid farther up the pillow to peer at her more directly.
She recalled the first time she’d seen him, inert on the highway, semiconscious and injured, and she smiled, despite everything.
“I thought you were dead,” she whispered.
“Heard the nurses talking this morning. Seems some amazing woman who shouldn’t have been in the arena slowed my blood loss.”
Her face contorted as she strove to stop the steady drip of tears. “Some amazing woman, huh?”
“Yes, she is.” He extended his free arm out to the side and crooked his fingers. “Come here.”
It was all the invitation she needed. Gingerly, she stretched out on the bed beside him. She closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his skin against her cheek. Underneath the chemical disinfectant smell emanating from his body, she breathed in Justin, the warm spicy scent assuring her he was alive. That he was here with her.
She didn’t think about anything. She just let herself exist in the moment, the deep, deep pleasure of being there next to him, of feeling the weight of him beside her, the space he took up in her world.
She shifted her head and kissed the firm skin on the inside of his arm and felt his fingers trace their way gently through her hair.
“You wished me good luck.”
“Yes.” She let out a long, shaky breath. “I wanted to see you ride, but I never should have distracted you. You got hurt because of me.”
“My pride and ego are to blame, not you. I shouldn’t have done it with a bum wrist. It was reckless and stupid. I could have died. Triggered your PTSD.”
“You did it for Fresh Start, for Jesse and yourself. Besides, I was too worried about you to fear anything else.” Her voice was so calm, she almost laughed.
Then she did.
Justin stiffened, taken aback at her reaction. It might have been leftover shock. But she wanted to think it was because she suddenly understood she wasn’t afraid of anything anymore.
“You saved my life...twice,” he murmured, his warm breath rushing over her temple.
She shook her head. “No. You saved me. It took me a while to see it, but I understand now.”
“Understand what?”
“That you were heaven-sent the night we crashed, to rescue me.”
“No. You were my angel.”
She slid her arms around his neck, careful not to jostle him, reveling in the feel of his body close to hers. “And you were mine.”
“I recall you said something else in the arena.”
Her heartbeat thudded so hard it practically shook her entire body. “I did. I love you, Justin,” she breathed and laid her head against his muscular chest, unafraid of what it meant, how he’d react, what he’d say.
Oh. Please say you love me, too...
By living in the dark, hiding from pain, she’d closed herself off from joy. From now on, she’d only live in the light. In the truth.
He looked at her then, as if he were drinking her in, and something inside her weakened with relief. “I love you, too, darlin’. With everything I am, which might not seem like much right now,” he admitted with a rueful twist of his lips.
“You’re everything,” she said, crying and laughing, almost unable to take in what he was saying, her heart pounded so hard. “Everything to me.”
“I’m not perfect, even at a hundred percent, but you saw past that and loved me anyway. Any time I needed you, you’ve been there.”
“I fainted at the motor cross,” she reminded him...and herself.
“But you were there, my love,” he insisted, fervent.
“Well, let’s not go overboard. I ended up on the ground like a lump,” she joked, though her heart was just as soft and mushy as all her other parts were becoming.
He chuckled and then grim
aced, as if laughing were painful. “Hey. You’re talking about the woman I love.”
She let those words sink in.
“I’m starting therapy to deal with my PTSD,” she said, snuggling into the crook of his arm. “Reliving my past is less painful than a future without you. I can’t make any promises about being able to do risky things, but I want to try.”
“Just your trying is enough. Getting kicked in the head by a thousand-pound bull has a way of making you see sense. Puts things into perspective.” One side of his mouth quirked. “Makes danger a tad less exciting.”
“You asked me to want you for you, and I do. I never want you to change.”
“Too late, darlin’, because you’ve changed me,” he told her huskily, his hand weaving through her long strands, pressing her to him. “You woke me and made me whole. I didn’t know what I was missing until you showed me. I thought Jesse was my better half, but it was meant to be you, all along.”
Their eyes locked, and in that moment, everything shifted. She saw she could be his center, his reason for living. And he was hers. She knew now she could be enough.
She took Justin’s face in her hands and kissed him carefully, softly, as he pulled her into his arms, his hold strong and sure, as he kissed her back. Then she pressed her cheek against his, half laughing, half weeping, unmindful of the nurses chattering outside—unmindful of anything except the incredible man beside her.
Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket. She yanked it out and gasped when she read the text.
“What is it?”
“Carbondale voted to keep Fresh Start’s charter,” she whispered. Her gaze found his.
He expelled a rush of air, and his eyes exploded with light. “Knew they had too much sense to let a good thing go.” His arm tightened around her. “Like me.”
“Whither thou goest...” she began.
“I will go,” he finished for her, his voice deep and full of promise. Somehow Brielle had never heard anything more beautiful.
“I want to climb those mountains with you.”
“Are you gonna start singing that nun song from The Sound of Music?” His breath stirred the hair at the crown of her head.