by Erica Penrod
Janie put her hands in her back pockets. “Well …”
“I called Dad, and of course he doesn’t answer, so I hurry over to the ranch. No one is there, and I’m thinking maybe the chemicals finally got to the ladies down at the Curl Up and Dye. Because that has to be the reason that my best friend, also known as my sister, hasn’t called me.”
“I was going to, but—”
Brynna interjected with her hands on her hips. “By this time, I am in dire need of Diet Coke, so I pull up to the gas station, and I overhear someone say they heard the press was back in town. I keep texting you, calling everyone in this crazy family, and no one answers.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Janie said, turning Brynna towards the kitchen.
“But I don’t see any press, so you’re okay?”
“I’m fine, but there’s someone you should meet.”
Race came from the kitchen, and Brynna froze. For once, neither her mouth nor hands were moving at a frantic pace. She looked like an ice sculpture of the opinionated redhead known as Janie’s best friend.
Janie laughed. “That’s one way to shut her up.”
“Hi,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m Race Butler.” He took her hand and shook it.
Brynna’s green eyes never left his face. Seconds later, she glanced at Janie. “I guess they weren’t kidding.” Tilting her head to the side, she examined him from that angle. “How’s that even possible?”
“Crazy, isn’t it?” Janie said, taking a closer look. “He looks like Jaxon. Same eyes, same color of hair, even the same lopsided smile. Of course, he’s definitely taller than Jaxon.”
“Yeah,” Brynna said. “But other than that … wow! Look at—”
Race cleared his throat. “Both of you know I’m standing right here, right?”
Janie noticed him shifting his weight from side to side and little beads of sweat along his hairline. Understandable, considering they were sizing him up like he was a juicy T-bone steak in the meat department.
“We’re about to eat some dessert. I’ll get you a bowl.” Janie ushered her sister-in-law into the kitchen. She took her and Race’s bowls and placed them on the table before going to the cupboard to get one for her additional guest. Brynna was still a little out of it and only moved into the room when Race pulled the chair out for her. She stared into the bowl of cookies and ice cream.
“Extra caramel, just how you like it.” Janie took the seat next to her. This wasn’t like Brynna at all; the Davis men wouldn’t say a word held at gunpoint, but you couldn’t get her to shut up looking down a loaded barrel. Brynna still didn’t respond, nor did she pick up her spoon. Janie took a large bite of her dessert, needing all the sugary fortification she could manage.
Race looked from Janie to Brynna, then back to Janie, a worry crease in his forehead.
Janie shrugged her shoulders. “She must be in shock. This is the longest she’s ever gone without speaking.”
“I’m fine,” Brynna said, breaking her silence. “Contrary to popular opinion—” she looked at Janie “—I can be a mature adult, and I’m waiting for an explanation.” She dished a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.
Janie waited, wondering who should take the lead. Casting a sideways glance at Race, she tried to read his facial expression like a language she’d translated for years but was complicated by a new dialect. He didn’t speak, and she continued to study his countenance. His delay in response, she supposed, was to consider his thoughts before he spoke. Unlike Jaxon.
“Brynna,” he said. “I’ve … I’ve looked forward to meeting you.”
“Do I detect a Southern drawl?” Brynna asked, twirling her spoon in a ribbon of caramel.
“Yes,” Race said. “Atlanta.”
She sighed. “I guess you better start at the beginning.”
“Kyle is my biological father, but I was born and raised in Georgia. My mother worked for my father’s family, and they fell in love shortly after I was born.”
She continued to ask questions, and Race answered, giving her a watered-down version of his and Jaxon’s encounter. Janie cleared the dishes, and they talked for over an hour. Brynn’s flushed cheeks implied the intoxication of discovering an older brother who, in return, seemed just as smitten with his younger sister.
“Why don’t we go sit down in the living room,” Janie said, after she had the kitchen in order. She was still in awe of the way Race and Brynna took to each other. She couldn’t imagine finding out you had a family member you didn’t know existed. Nor did she want to think about how Race could’ve been hurt if Brynna had turned on him like Jaxon had. Kyle didn’t offer the warmest welcome either, even though he had a bomb dropped on him without warning; Race had to know there would be repercussions from his surprise visit. Janie was glad to see Brynna had salvaged the day with her instant connection to Race.
“I’d love to, but Layne will be home soon. If we’re coming back over for dinner tomorrow night, we can talk some more then.”
“That would be great,” Race said. “I’m looking forward to meeting him.”
Brynna scooped up her purse from the couch and got a serious look on her face. “Wait, are you cooking, Janie?”
“Yes.” Janie stuck her tongue out at Brynna. “I am.”
“Did anyone warn you about her culinary skills?” she asked Race, as she swung her bag onto her shoulder and then pulled at her hair caught beneath the strap.
“She did.” He grinned at Janie. “But her frozen pizza and cookies were delicious.”
“I’m sure we’ll enjoy it,” Brynna said.
“There was a little too much sarcasm in your voice,” Janie said, opening the door. “I’m thinking of retracting my invitation.”
Before she passed through the doorframe, Brynna wrapped her arms around Janie. “You know I love you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Janie said. “That’s the only reason I’m forgiving you.”
“Oh, what about Jaxon?” Brynna released her. “Is he coming for dinner?”
Janie’s elation over Race and Brynna dropped like a lead weight in her gut. Ugh, she still needed to deal with Jaxon and his possible dinner invitation. “I haven’t texted him yet.” Janie touched her stomach. “I don’t know what to do about inviting him.”
Brynna’s green eyes deepened to the color of aspen leaves. “I know it’s hard for you to be around him. But we give him another chance, like we always do.”
Janie’s mouth smiled, but she didn’t feel happy. “How many chances does one person get?”
* * *
After Jaxon left Janie’s, he hopped in his truck and went straight to the ranch where he parked his new vehicle and took off in the old Chevy already loaded with a mobile hotel. He didn’t bother to check for supplies before he hit the road, hoping to make the four-hour trip in just over three. A couple of water bottles rolled on the floorboard; a half-eaten bag of chips hibernated on the dash. In an emergency on a long stretch of road, he’d survive.
Survive. That’s what it was now, killing time, anything to dull the pain until he could figure out a way to get her back. When he’d pulled out of her drive earlier today, he knew he had to ride; it was the only time in his life when there could only be one thing in his head. Complete focus; all his energy channeled into that eight seconds was guaranteed to get her off his mind, if only for a moment.
Jaxon put the pedal to the floor, and three and half hours later he pulled into Moab, Utah. He scrambled from his truck and made it to the Canyonlands PRCA Rodeo as the sun set in the western sky. Along the road, he’d played the day back over and over in his mind, but now he pushed it aside. The saddle bronc event was up next, and he drew one of the rankest little mares on the PRCA circuit. He had a job to do, and he only had eight seconds to do it. But that was enough—his world could change in that small scrap of time. Every fiber in his being, every thought in his mind had to be focused on the ride ahead when he climbed on the back of a thousand-pound bucking animal.
His body soared with adrenaline.
He jammed his hat down one last time and gave a nod. The gate swung open. The horse reared out of the chute.
Hold on. Jaxon spurred above the dark bay’s shoulders. Made the mark out.
He gritted his teeth. Lift, lift.
His legs swept in and down. Keep the rein tight; find the rhythm.
Could be a 90-point ride. He spurred with all he had.
Feels right. Feels right.
The mare made an unexpected hard right turn. My stirrup! He flipped in the air. Lights.
Jaxon slammed into the ground.
“Watch out!”
A hoof struck flesh—
The darkness ebbed into a haze, and voices crowded his head.
“Jaxon, are you alright? Can you hear me?”
Someone checked his body for broken bones, their hands tender and yet sure. He attempted to speak, but his lungs were short on air. Coughing, he realized breathing trumped verbal communication, and he gently nodded his head.
“Can you get up?”
He tried to sit up, but his vest held him like a vice. He pawed at the Velcro. The paramedics freed his rib cage, giving him enough freedom to move. With their help, he stumbled out of the arena. The announcer’s voice, indistinct and insistent, echoed in his ears as the crowd cheered. Pity applause was the worst.
Outside the arena, he waved off the medics. “I’m fine. Leave me alone.” He collapsed in the dirt, and they continued to check him. “I said I’m fine!” The EMTs backed off. He scooted back and leaned against a corral post; his ribs protested, and a sharp pain stabbed into his right ankle. A bullfighter hopped the fence and handed him the remains of his hat. He shoved the jumbled mess on his head—he may as well look the part for the camera.
His life was falling apart around him: he’d lost Janie, and now he was failing at the one thing he’d always been good at. His celebrity status couldn’t fix this. No amount of television money would get him into the National Finals Rodeo. No score meant no check, and his standings in the PRCA slipped. Only the top fifteen qualified for the NFR, and that was based solely on winning money for the year. He took a handful of dirt and chucked it. He winced as a spasm in his back gripped his body, and he cried out. Embarrassed by his involuntary reaction, he clamped his mouth shut before he remembered filming was over for now. He pulled what was left of the hat down over his face. Everything was over—for now.
* * *
Jaxon lay on the bed with an ice pack on his sore ribs, another on his ankle, and his hands behind his head. The moonlight streamed through the air vent of his camper shell parked in Moab. When the sun came up in a few more hours, the surrounding red rocks would be covered in tourists like ants on a hill.
His phone vibrated next to him. He gingerly picked it up and saw it was Quade. He’d call him later; he was too tired to try and explain himself to his friend. He still needed to sort things out for himself. The phone buzzed again, and as he went to push ignore, he saw Brynna’s face. Rolling his eyes and creasing his brow, he debated whether to answer, but if growing up with a feisty redhead for a little sister taught him anything, he may as well answer now and get it over with. Persistence was part of her charm if you weren’t on the receiving end. Pushing the button, he said hello with as a little gusto as possible, saving the oxygen for his lungs.
“Where are you?” Brynna asked. “Wait, are you alright? You don’t sound very good.”
“I’m okay. Just a little short on breath.”
“What does that mean? Are you alone?”
Jaxon heard the phone bang into a solid object.
“Are you there? Sorry, I dropped the phone. It’s this pregnancy thing.”
“That’s got to be it. Oh, wait, I don’t think you were pregnant when you dropped your phone in the toilet last year, unless you have a secret child hidden away somewhere.”
“That’s funny. Speaking of hidden children, I heard you made a great impression on our new bro.”
“So you’ve talked to Dad or Janie, I suppose.”
Brynna exhaled into the phone. “Janie. I can’t get hold of Dad. She said he wasn’t acting like himself. Race really got to him showing up like that.”
“You sound pretty cool about it. It doesn’t bother you that we have an older sibling that our father never mentioned?”
“Of course it does, idiot, but I’m not going to take it out on Race. It’s not his fault. He seems like a nice guy.”
Jaxon rubbed his temples. “So you’ve met him?”
“Yeah, at Janie’s. I guess I showed up not too long after you left.”
“He’s got some nerve to show up and then invite himself to stay. And why is he staying with Janie? There are hotels in Toquerville … maybe not up to his Southern money standards, but he could slum it for a night.”
“You know, if you ever took the time to get to know someone without your preconceived judgment, you might spend a lot less time apologizing. And where are you, anyway? Are you coming to dinner tomorrow night?”
“What dinner?” he asked.
“At Janie’s tomorrow night. It’s for Race.”
He mumbled a couple curse words under his breath. “I don’t know anything about a dinner, and I guess since I’ve already punched the guest of honor in the face, I’m probably not on the guest list.”
“If you could act like a civilized human being for more than five minutes, I’m sure you would be. And you still haven’t told me where you are.”
“Moab. I got bucked off a couple hours ago.”
“It serves you right for running away.”
“I didn’t run—”
“And I didn’t even know you were coming home at all. Thanks for that, by the way.”
Jaxon tried to sit up, but decided it wasn’t worth it. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t know I was, either.”
“You know …” Brynna’s voice softened into her younger but wiser octave. “I know you love Janie, and I know you want to fix this, but you seem to be going about it all wrong.”
“You think?” Jaxon said sarcastically.
“Don’t be smart-alecky. You know what I mean. There’s a lot on the line now. You’re going to be a father. Janie has more than herself to consider. She’s put up with a lot because she loves you, but now, with the baby … I don’t know.”
“Thanks, sis, for the encouragement.”
“I love you and I love her. You guys are meant to be together, but you got a lot to make up for, and it’s not going to be easy and now this whole thing with punching Race … well, it wasn’t a step in the right direction.”
“I know that,” he whispered into the phone. The accustomed pang of regret filled his heart. “I know, Brynn. I’ve to get her back. I love her more than anything.”
There was an instant of silence. Then she said, “I know you do.”
“Brynn,” Jaxon asked. “Do you think Mom knew about Race? Do you think that’s why she left us?”
“I don’t know, maybe.” She paused. “But if that’s the case, it’s not Race’s fault any more than your divorce is your baby’s fault.”
Her words hit him harder than the bronc stepping on his back, and they bruised just as badly. His world consumed him, and he didn’t consider what his stupidity meant for his child. Jaxon dreamed of showering his baby with all the physical luxuries he didn’t have growing up, but now he realized loving Janie and putting his family back together was the best gift he could offer his unborn child. Janie needed to see his sincerity, not just the threads of truth he gave her. His actions had screamed above his words for too long, and he knew what he had to do. Just like an eight-second ride, she needed his focus, his drive and determination to prove he was the champion of her heart.
Chapter 8
Jaxon pulled onto the side of the road and parked directly across from Janie’s house. This was a dumb idea. He should’ve never let Brynna talk him into coming to this welcome dinner. Other cars filled the drive:
the two-tone Chevy with haphazard pinstripes carved by barbed wire belonged to his father; Layne’s polished and jacked-up 4x4 was next to it; and of course, Janie’s car was in its usual spot beneath the tree. He wanted to replace the beat-up Toyota Corolla, but she wouldn’t let him.
The rental truck was a festering sliver in Jaxon’s side. Race. What was it about the guy he didn’t like? He was polite, rich, and his gut told him Race was a nice guy. Jaxon looked in the rearview mirror. And obviously handsome, the kind of guy Janie deserved. The sliver dug in a little deeper.
Jaxon drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, keeping rhythm to the beat of some classic Chris LeDoux, hoping to channel some cowboy wisdom. It was like a coin toss. On one side, he could go in there and smooth things over, make amends with Race for Janie’s sake. On the flip side, he could go in, stir up some inadvertent chaos, and be worse off than he was now.
He didn’t mean to stir things up—it just sort of happened and had his whole life. He wasn’t sure he could keep it from happening today. Jaxon bit the inside of his cheek, debating his options, because once he decided, there was no going back. Mostly because his bruised ribs wouldn’t allow it.
Turning off the ignition, he told himself to quit acting like a coward and get in there. He took out the key, and his phone rang. Miley Rhodes appeared on the screen.
“Hello?”
“Jaxon, it’s Miley.”
He nodded his head.
“I need you to get to LA as soon as possible.”
“Why? I’m not scheduled for anything until next week.”
“I know that,” she said in a smooth, painted-on voice. “But as I’m sure you’re aware, there are a few things going around in the tabloids—”
“What things?” His jaw clamped down, and a copper taste saturated his tongue.
“That’s what we need to discuss. The producers want to make sure you’re prepared with the correct answers.”
“Look, Miley, I haven’t seen the tabloids, and right now—the kind of mood I’m in—I’m pretty sure you don’t want me to see them.”