by T. J. Kline
“You’re right, Rayne. We can’t go back, and I don’t really want to. I want us to move forward, toward a new future.” He reached for her hand, holding the ring over the tip of her finger. “Marry me. I promise to never let anything come between us again.”
Her gaze met his, the heated passion in them evident. “No more lies, even if you think it’s for a good reason?”
“No.” He slid the ring onto her finger with a broad smile. “And on that note, I should tell you something else I’ve been keeping from you.” Fear trickled into her chest, stilling her heart. “That mare I bought? She’s been for you all along.”
Relief flooded her, and she couldn’t help the laughter from slipping past her lips. She smacked her hand against his bare chest.
“What?” Ty laughed. “You told me to be honest about everything.”
“Well, if we’re being completely honest, I have to tell you that I love you, Ty.” She rose above him, straddling his waist and giving him a wicked smile. “And I think I’m going to love wherever this road leads us, as long as we’re together.” Rayne looked at the ring on her finger, catching the sunlight, and smiled.
“I’ll buy you another one.” He frowned as he stared at her hand, twisting the ring on her finger. “It didn’t seem so small when I bought it.”
She pulled her hand away from his. “Don’t you dare! This ring is special; it’s part of our history together. It’s a reminder of how far we’ve come, and I don’t want to ever forget that.”
Ty let his hands tangle in her hair, drawing her forward to sear her with a kiss, as she sought the pleasure she’d only found in his arms. Together, they would forge a future that would shine brighter than any mistakes they’d made in the past.
“Damn it, if you don’t stop babying me, I swear I’m going to jump up outta this chair and walk my ass into the house.”
“You most certainly will not,” Rayne insisted, ignoring John’s complaining as Ty pushed the wheelchair toward the front porch of the house. “You had a stroke and you’re going to let us baby you as we see fit or I—“
“What?” the old man questioned, looking back over his shoulder and lifting a bushy white brow her direction. “What do you think you’re going to do?”
Rayne leaned close, pressing a quick peck to his cheek. “I won’t let you walk me down the aisle, that’s what.”
He scowled and she knew that would do it. Ty chuckled, which only earned him a dirty look from John but he didn’t care. He knew it was just the old man’s way. He’d barely been able to contain himself when he’d finally come out of his coma and found out that Ty had returned. It had been a long road to recovery and he’d bitched every step of the way but Rayne’s request that he walk her down the aisle had given him a new purpose and he’d attacked his therapy with the tenacity of a man half his age.
Maria came onto the porch and smiled at the group. “Well, it’s about time.”
Several of the boys staying at the ranch were waiting on the porch and Ty saw John’s face beam with pride as they hurried forward to help him inside. He let two of the boys help him from the chair and up the stairs. He wasn’t back to himself yet but Ty had no doubt the old man would be back up on a horse in no time.
“He is going to push himself into an early grave,” Rayne complained, watching John lean on the two boys for support.
He circled his arms around her shoulders from behind and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “He’s going to be fine. He’s as tough as nails and ornery as cat shit.”
She tipped her head back, looking up at him, with a smile. “Yeah, I love him, too.” She spun and wrapped her arm around Ty’s waist. “So, have you decided yet?”
He knew she was asking about her idea to merge their ranches. It would give him far more pastureland for his horses he didn’t want her to feel obligated to help him get his breeding and training facility off the ground. “I just don’t see how this would benefit you.”
She stopped, jerking him with her. “You’re kidding, right? I’m going to be part-owner in the best rope and barrel horse training facility in the state.”
Ty shook his head and started to walk again. “Stop.”
She refused to budge. “Ty, I’m not joking. I’ve seen what you can do. I have faith in you and what you’re going to accomplish.”
He couldn’t help the smile from tugging at his mouth. Her words of praise casting aside any doubts he might have. Ty pulled her into his arms, hooking them behind her back. “We’re quite the pair, aren’t we? Two delinquents with crappy parents.”
Rayne smiled up at him, her eyes bright and beautiful. “It’s amazing what happens when you find the person who makes you whole, isn’t it?” she asked.
Ty kissed her, making sure she didn’t make any mistake about how he felt, wanting her to feel every ounce of his love, every bit of gratitude he felt for her coming into his life, not once but twice. “I have something for you,” he murmured against her lips.
Rayne closed her eyes but her smile only brightened. “I thought you’d never offer. Let’s go back to my place,” she sighed. “I have something new I bought for you to see, too. It’s red and lacy,” she teased.
“As tempting as that sounds,” Ty chuckled, nibbling at her ear. “Look.”
Rayne opened her eyes and gasped. Ty hadn’t planned on buying the ring, especially since she’d insisted on keeping her original engagement ring, but it was as if the gem had called to him. “I had to get it, because this one reminded me so much of us.”
He reached for her hand and slid the new ring next to her old one, surprised to see they butted up against one another perfectly, complimenting one another even though the new one was far more brilliant.
“Ty.” Rayne looked ready to cry.
He brushed his thumb over her jaw. “I know you love the old one but this one is bigger, brighter, just like the future I want for us.”
“As long as I have you, Ty.”
“Will you two just hurry up and kiss so the rest of us can have dinner?” John’s gravelly voice yelled from the porch. As crotchety as he sounded, Ty knew he was teasing.
“Yes, sir,” Ty said, pulling Rayne close and kissing her deeply, making sure she never again doubted the truth of his love.
THE END
If you enjoyed ONCE A HEARTBREAKER, you don’t want to miss:
Making the Play
Bethany Mills wanted to give in to the normally angelic cherub face in front of her that was now scrunched in anger. “Because we aren’t playing football at recess today. I already explained that to you.”
Like most six-year-olds, her son, James, was prone to throw temper tantrums when he didn’t get his way. Unlike other kids his age, James would refuse to say anything verbally. Instead, his fingers flew in a blur of American Sign Language, letting her know just how angry he was at her explanation. Although he was perfectly capable of speaking, thanks to the cochlear implants her ex-husband’s medical insurance had provided before James’ first birthday, Bethany’s son continued to fall back on signing when he was angry. She understood it was due to the fact that he stuttered and had a hard time pronouncing his words when he was emotional, but she was trying to teach him to continue to use both. Life wasn’t easy and, in spite of what many saw as a disability, she couldn’t allow her son to take the path of least resistance. It was a painful truth she’d been forced to face early on when her husband ran out on both of them twelve months after James’ diagnosis at two months old, just before serving her with divorce papers.
Life as a single mother was hard enough. Life as a single mother at twenty to a child with a disability and no child support would have been impossible if not for her parents’ stepping in and allowing her to move back in until she could finish college and earn her teaching degree.
“Not today, James,” she reiterated. “The other kids are playing T-ball. You should go ask if you can play too.”
She watched as her son pursed his lips and balle
d his fists before stomping across the playground to pout near the swings. Bethany sighed loudly, knowing this was something every child went through, that every parent went through, but wondering if it would ever get easier. She couldn’t give in to James’ demand but she couldn’t stand the thought of her son being angry at her all day either. Not to mention, it would only cause trouble when they returned to the classroom after recess. There were definite drawbacks to being her son’s kindergarten teacher.
She traced his steps to the swings, trying not to smile when she saw him turn his back on her as he continued to peek over his shoulder to see if she would come to him. Bethany squatted down beside him, her peasant skirt billowing around her, and waited for him to turn and face her.
“James, if you go play ball with the other kids, we’ll go to the park after school today.” She signed as she spoke. His blue eyes sparkled at the thought but he paused.
“Ice cream too?” This time he spoke and she let the smile curve her lips. The little stinker thought he was conning her.
“Yes, I think we can get ice cream too, but only if you are able to read all your sight words for Ms. Julie.”
At least, she prayed that’s what her teacher’s aide had planned for the kids today. Julie was indispensable in her classroom after lunch, when most of the kids were hyper beyond belief, and she hoped they weren’t going to have to change the lesson plans again today to accommodate the kids’ activity level. Bethany couldn’t help but wonder if her students’ parents were feeding their kids straight sugar for lunch.
James pursed his lips and looked toward the sky. It was his “thinking” look and it never failed to make her want to hug him. Before she could, he threw his arms around her neck and ran off to meet up with the group of kids playing on the open lawn. Bethany stood and sighed again just as James stopped to get her attention.
I want chocolate, he signed.
She nodded and signed her approval as he spun on his heel and hurried toward the other kids. Her baby was growing up far too quickly for her liking.
She heard the quiet chuckle from behind her as Steven Carter, the other kindergarten teacher at Hidden Falls Elementary walked toward her. “I don’t know how you do it,” he said with a shake of his head.
“Do what?”
“Teach him just like the other kids.”
Bethany felt herself bristle. She’d dealt with people singling James out because of his disability for years. It never failed to make the mama bear in her rise to the surface. “I’ll have you know, James is just as bright as any normal child, Mr. Carter. In fact, he’s already reading at a second-grade level. Just because he has implants to help him hear doesn’t make him stupid.”
The other teacher took a step back, his eyes widening. “Uh, that’s not what I meant,” he said, holding his hands up in front of him. “I just meant that it’s hard enough to keep twenty kids under control in the classroom and keep my mind on what I’m teaching without trying to sign at the same time.”
“Oh!” Bethany felt the blush rise up her neck and cheeks at the way she’d immediately become defensive. “I’m sorry, I just . . .”
“No, I shouldn’t have said it that way.” He moved to stand at her side, slipping his hands into the pockets of his slacks and watched the kids play on the field. “Truce?”
She ducked her head, embarrassed to have jumped to conclusions. “Yes. I am sorry though. I have a tendency to be a bit overprotective.”
He shot her a sideways glance. “And I have a tendency to speak before I think,” he admitted. “Maybe I could make it up to you over coffee?” He cleared his throat nervously. “Or dinner?”
Bethany felt blindsided. She hadn’t expected him to ask her out. She’d heard several of the other women talking about the new teacher in the break room, swooning over his tall, lean physique and stormy gray eyes, but she thought it strange to want to date someone you worked with. What if it didn’t go well? What if it did? It was just too much drama either way for the workplace, especially when that workplace was as an elementary school in a town as small as Hidden Falls.
“Ah, I really appreciate the offer, Mr. Carter,” she said, trying not to seem too callous. “But I don’t think it would be a good idea.”
She’d been out of the dating pool so long, the refusal slid easily from her lips without her having to struggle with what to say. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been asked out. She had, far too many times for her liking, but she wasn’t about to introduce another man into her life, or James’ life, only to be abandoned again. Her son would be forced to deal with enough adversity in his future. She didn’t see the need to add an emotional tie to someone who wasn’t likely to stick around. It was better that James knew her unconditional reassurance than suffer the added sting of rejection if that was something she had any control over. He’d been hurt enough. They both had.
“Is this really what you dragged me out to the park for? To be your official stopwatch?” Jackson complained, rolling his eyes at his oldest brother. “You know Dad is going to jump all in my shit if he finds out I’m here with you instead of finishing that fence in the north pasture.”
“It’s barely one o’clock and I’m only doing some sprints. When we get back, I’ll help you with the fence until sundown, deal?”
Grant McQuaid glared at his brother, the youngest of the six of them. The last thing he needed right now were any more arguments. His father had already been more than willing to give his two cents about Grant’s plans to return to professional football. He didn’t care how many people tried to convince him to the contrary, he was going to be the guy who proved the doctors wrong. He couldn’t be finished at thirty. He wouldn’t be.
“Fine,” Jackson agreed with a sigh. “You ready or what?” Jackson rolled his eyes as Grant swung his arms in large circles, loosening up. Grant then kicked his heels toward his butt before making a few quick tuck jumps into the air. Tired of waiting, Jackson said, “Any day, bro.”
Grant ignored him. Just because he felt great didn’t mean he was about to let his brother’s impatience risk an injury. He jerked a knee toward his chest, lifting the opposite arm, mimicking the movement of a sprint before repeating it several times on the other side. Moving into position, he bounced in place to warm his joints then settled himself and looked out over the grass to where he’d marked a spot with an orange cone.
“Are you ready, now?” His brother laughed, shaking his head.
Grant knew his brothers didn’t understand the seriousness with which he took his workouts, but they didn’t have to. He did. This was business. This was his job and he worked harder than any other running back in professional football. He had to if he wanted to see another season.
Grant took a deep breath and relaxed the tension he felt building in his shoulders, knowing it would only slow him. One focus—this forty-yard sprint. One goal—faster than his best time, 4.54 seconds. He took a deep breath, relaxing his face.
“Ready.”
“And . . . Go!” Jackson yelled.
Grant pushed off, letting his back leg propel him forward, his arms pumping as the breeze blew from behind. He felt his limbs stretch and flex, his feet pounding against the grass, the cleats digging into the soft earth. And then he was at the cone, making a sharp right turn. He slowed to a jog before stopping and looking back at Jackson.
“Five point zero seven,” he called.
“Damn it!”
That was never going to be good enough. There were too many younger men trying to take his place, too many uninjured players without big contracts willing to do it for less money. He jogged back to the starting spot and settled himself into position.
“Again,” he called, ignoring his brother’s frown.
“Are you s—”
“Again,” Grant insisted, not even letting Jackson question his decision.
Grant repeated the sprint seven more times but couldn’t get under a five-second run. As much as it frustrated him, continuing would ju
st break down his body and make him more prone to re-injury. It was better to come back out in a couple of days and try again. Until then, they might as well have some fun before heading back to the ranch. The fence could wait for another thirty minutes.
Grant did a few ballistic stretches and picked up the football he’d brought along with him, tossing it toward Jackson, knowing his brother wouldn’t turn down a quick game.
“How’s that arm of yours?”
Jackson shrugged. “I guess that depends on your point of reference. I’m no Miles.”
He meant Aaron Miles, the starting quarterback for the Mustangs and the guy who’d rallied the team, taking them to the playoffs last year. The same game where Grant had sustained his last concussion, the one that might have ended his career. He crushed the thought before it sank in. He was going to play this season, there was no room for doubt.
“Let’s see what you’ve got.” He jogged down field from Jackson, effortlessly catching the ball. Grant had been a decent receiver in high school but his size had made the transition to running back a no-brainer in college.
The two of them played catch for the a few hours while Grant tried to ignore the people beginning to crowd under several of the shade trees nearby, watching. It wasn’t unusual to see at training camp but here, in his hometown, he hated being a spectacle. He couldn’t walk down the street without someone pointing, staring or asking for an autograph. Here he just wanted to be Grant, not Grant McQuaid, starting running back for the Memphis Mustangs.
“Last one,” Jackson called, lobbing the ball down the field for a Hail Mary pass.
Grant went long, sprinting to make the catch. He was damned if he was going to look like a fool with this many people watching. It wasn’t until the last second he heard the child’s yell and the woman’s voice calling for him to “Look out!”
“I’ve got it!” the boy yelled as he reached into the sky, a broad grin plastered across his face.