How To Unbreak A Heart

by Jennie Marts

  She shrugged. “Yeah, I do. He’s the same—funny, charming, and just slick enough to do well in politics. I mean, he’s my brother and I love him, but I don’t think he always makes the smartest decisions.”

  She didn’t have to tell Trip that. He knew all about the dumbass decisions her brother could make.

  “I’m glad he’s doing all right,” Trip said. “All I ever wanted was for him to be happy. For you both to be happy.”

  A pained look crossed her face, and she huffed out a breath. “Really? Because you sure had a funny way of going about making that happen.”

  The apology was on his lips, but before he could say anything, the mare stamped her hooves and let out a whinny.

  Bre pushed to her feet, ending the conversation and putting her focus back on the horses. “It looks like she’s getting ready to deliver the afterbirth. I need to take care of her now.”

  Trip held up his hands in submission. “Do what you need to do. Let me know if you want me to go free the real vet tied up in the truck.” His joke fell flat again, and he took a few steps back.

  “I’m here if you need me,” he mumbled.

  But that was the real problem. He hadn’t been there. Not when she’d needed him the most. That was when he’d left.

  He watched her work for a good hour, pitching in when he could, but mostly just silently standing by in case she needed him. It was all he could think to do.

  And he didn’t mind. He enjoyed watching her work—seeing the skills she’d acquired—carefully tending to the needs of the mare and the foal. She really was good at her job.

  After declaring she’d done all she could do for the day and that she needed to run back to the vet clinic, he helped her load her truck then showed her to the small washroom in the back of the barn.

  The room was small, with storage cabinets above a counter and a utility sink against the far wall.

  They stood side by side, not quite touching, the running water drowning out any need to talk as they scrubbed their hands and arms clean.

  “You’re really good at your job,” he said, as he passed her a towel. “I’ve worked with a lot of vets, and it’s obvious you know what you’re doing.”

  “Thanks.” She took the towel, leaning her hip against the counter as she dried her hands. “Sometimes I have to work twice as hard to prove that I’m good enough. A lot of these old farmers still think I’m a woman trying to do a man’s job.”

  “It’s not a man’s job. It’s just a job. And it makes me happy to see that you followed your dreams, and you’re really doing it.”

  She didn’t say anything, only looked at him, the pain of his betrayal evident in her eyes.

  He steadied his hand on the counter next to her hip and leaned forward, his heart pounding in his chest, as he tried to think of the right words to say, the words to make her see that what he’d done was actually out of love for her. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I hurt you, Bre.”

  Her face crumbled, and he could see the slightest tremble start in her bottom lip. His heart was breaking at the pain he’d caused her, but staring at her mouth was stirring feelings in his gut, and all he wanted to do was keep her lip from trembling.

  Oh Lord, what was he thinking? What was he doing? His mind was racing, shouting at him to pull back, but he couldn’t. Couldn’t help himself.

  The pull was too strong.

  He inched closer and dipped his head, his lips barely brushing hers.

  She inhaled the softest gasp, her breath catching in the middle, and it was the sexiest sound he’d ever heard.

  He didn’t think, didn’t rationalize what a dumb idea this was.

  His heart and his need were speaking louder than his head as he leaned down and kissed her.

  Chapter Four

  Every part of Bre’s head fought against kissing him, but her traitorous lips had a mind of their own as Trip’s mouth settled onto hers.

  It seemed her whole body was rebelling against her brain as her arms reached around his neck, and her fingers wove into his hair and pulled him closer.

  His hand slid around her waist and clutched her back, drawing her tighter to him. His knees bent and his other hand slid up her neck and cupped her cheek. Holding her face, he skimmed her lips with his tongue then crushed her mouth with the hunger of a starving man.

  She arched her back, pressing her breasts into his chest as he tasted and sampled her lips. He’d always been a good kisser, but it seemed he’d refined his skills.

  He let out a low moan against her lips—it sounded like a cross between desire and pain, and she almost came undone.

  She knew what he was feeling—knew that fine line between wanting him and remembering the pain that he’d caused.

  The pain of her heart breaking…although “break” didn’t begin to describe what he’d done to her heart: crack, smash, fracture, shatter into a million tiny pieces—those words were closer to how her heart had felt.

  The memories of that despair—that utter anguish—came flooding back like a storm ripping through her system.

  Bre pulled away and sucked in her breath. Losing the warmth of his body felt like a cloud passing over the sun on a warm summer day.

  “I can’t.” She shook her head, her breath ragged, as she took a step back. “I can’t do this. You almost destroyed me when you left me the last time. I can’t put myself through that again.”

  The look of pain on his face shot straight through her heart. But it didn’t matter.

  She had to protect herself.

  And that meant getting away from him.

  Turning on her heel, a sob catching in her throat, she ran out of the barn.

  Trip slammed the front door of the farmhouse. He’d been slamming doors and stomping around the farm for the last few hours. Ever since Bre had pushed him back and ran away from him.

  Literally ran. Like she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.

  It had been stupid to kiss her—a dumb move on his part. It was way too soon. But he couldn’t help himself. Being so close to her, the sight of her sweet lips, slightly parted and just waiting to be kissed.

  But he’d moved too fast. And blown any chance he’d had of winning her back. The way she’d peeled out of the ranch’s driveway, her truck tires spitting gravel, told him that she was gone and wasn’t coming back anytime soon.

  He’d tried to find things to occupy his mind for the rest of the afternoon, familiarizing himself with the farm and taking care of a few odd tasks, like cleaning off the workbench and putting the tools away. He knew John valued tidiness, especially in his work area, and it made Trip feel like he was honoring John by cleaning up.

  As John had aged, he’d taken on fewer boys—usually only five or six during the summer now. Teaching and mentoring the boys had been the greatest work of John’s life.

  With that in mind, Trip had spent the last twenty minutes trying to track down Spencer. He figured what better way to get his mind off the girl than to focus on what was important to John. Maybe he could make a positive difference in someone’s day today.

  The only problem was that he couldn’t seem to find him. He’d checked the barn, the bunkhouses, and the main house, but no one had seen the teenager in the past several hours. A sinking feeling started in Trip’s gut the longer he searched for the boy and continued to come up empty.

  The boys John took in came from all walks of life, all regions of the country. Most were so happy to be out of juvie and to have someone giving them positive attention that they quickly took to the farm, but a few had more trouble adjusting.

  Spencer had seemed okay this afternoon and appeared to really care about the horses, which made Trip’s worries seem pointless. But something niggled at the back of his mind, a nagging concern that Spence had taken off.

  He didn’t know the boy’s home life, but had recognized the giant chip on his shoulder, and it was very likely that the teen had run away.

  After searching the ranch again and as
king a few discreet questions, he determined that Spencer was indeed gone, but all of the vehicles and ATVs were still on site. So if he’d left, he must’ve set out on foot.

  Which meant that if Trip hurried, he might have a chance of finding Spencer and talking him into coming back to the ranch before anyone discovered that he was missing.

  He hurried to his vehicle as Bre’s vet truck pulled down the driveway and parked.

  His face must have registered concern, because she jumped out of her pickup and crossed to him. “What’s wrong? Is it the colt?”

  “No, the horses are fine.” He debated keeping Spencer’s disappearance to himself, but didn’t want to lie to her again. And frankly, he could use the help. “It’s the teenager that might be in trouble. I’m worried that Spencer took off. I was heading out to search for him.”

  “I’ll come with you.” She climbed into his truck and scooted across the seat—no hesitation, no stopping to debate if the teenager had really run away or not, just an instant decision to jump in and help. She hadn’t changed, and this was why he cared so much about her.

  He slid in after her, trying to keep his mind on the task at hand and not on the way her tight little butt wiggled as she climbed into the truck. “None of the ranch vehicles are missing, so I’m assuming he took off on foot. I figure he’d most likely head west, across the back pasture, since that would be the most direct way to reach town.”

  He didn’t say that was what he would have done, what he had planned to do the hundred times he considered running away when he was a teenager and stuck on this same ranch. Except the one thing that he would be running to was the one thing that he had to stay away from.

  And now that one thing was sitting in the seat next to him, her blond hair blowing across her face from the breeze coming through the open windows.

  “Makes sense to me.” She buckled her seatbelt as the truck bounced down the dirt path lining the far pasture. “Are you really worried about this kid? I thought you just met him this afternoon?”

  “Yeah, I am, I just have a funny feeling that something’s happened to him. And I know I just met him, but I felt a kind of connection with the kid. Like I somehow recognized a little of myself in him.”

  “Poor kid,” she teased.

  But he wasn’t laughing. The sinking feeling in his gut was getting worse as the sun dipped below the horizon and dusk settled in. He scanned the fields for any sign of the teenager.

  The pastures were full of rock outcroppings and small copses of trees that had sprouted up along the creek that wound through the property. There would be plenty of places to hide or to seek refuge for the night.

  The land was also deceiving—the pastures reaching into the vast landscape. It would be easy to get lost out here. Or hurt.

  He pressed harder on the accelerator, squinting into the fading light as he searched the terrain for signs of the missing boy.

  Bre didn’t like the anxious look on Trip’s face. He was really worried about this boy.

  Which seemed out of character for the “selfish bastard” personality traits that she’d bestowed upon him the last twelve years.

  She’d spent her afternoon running around, working to keep busy, and trying to put the sexy cowboy out of her mind. She hadn’t succeeded.

  After making the thirty-minute drive to the vet clinic, she’d dropped off the samples from the mare and tried to do some paperwork. Not able to concentrate, she’d called her brother to tell him that Trip was back.

  She didn’t know if they’d kept in touch all these years, had never asked because she’d been afraid to know the answer. But she’d always assumed that Trip had walked out on her brother the same night that he’d walked out on her. She’d anticipated that he would sound more excited by the news; the two of them had always seemed so close. But Ryan sounded more worried than thrilled that his friend had returned.

  “Where has he been?” he’d asked. “What’s he doing? Why is he back? Is he planning on staying?”

  “Geez, take it down a notch, Twenty Questions. I’m not Google. I know he’s never gotten married, he makes furniture, he’s been living in Wyoming, and he just bought a place there.” Which was the only information she really needed to know—that he wasn’t staying, that he was only going to be here a few weeks then would walk back out of her life again.

  “Did he talk to you about what happened the night he left?”

  “No. We were helping deliver a foal that was in distress and coming in breach. We weren’t sitting down to tea. Besides, I don’t know that I’m ready to hear his lame excuses for what happened that night.”

  Although that wasn’t exactly true either. She did want to hear his excuses for what happened that night—she desperately wanted answers for what had made him walk away and break her heart after all the promises that he’d made.

  Calling her brother and talking about Trip had only brought up more questions and filled her thoughts with memories of those teenage years, neither of which helped her resolution to put him out of her mind.

  She’d hung up with Ryan and swung by her house, hoping she could sneak back in and sleep there tonight.

  But the contractors had already started demolition, and dust and plastic sheeting covered the interior. She knew it would only delay getting the work done if she tried to go in and spend the night. And she didn’t want the work to take any longer than it had to.

  With her uneasiness riding shotgun, she’d traveled back to the ranch, resolving to try to get into the house quickly and stay out of Trip’s way. Her plan had been to avoid him for the next several days, but instead she found herself packed into the cab of his pickup, his muscled arm only inches from hers, and the scent of his aftershave surrounding her like the warmth of a cloak.

  How had she let herself get into this mess?

  Because she cared. Cared about people, about the tough kid that showed his vulnerability this afternoon when he’d helped with the colt’s birth, and even about this dang guy sitting next to her. As much as she tried to fight it, she still cared about him.

  And she didn’t know if that made her a better person or a weaker one. But she knew that the reason she’d jumped in the truck was because the kid was in trouble. And because Trip had needed her help.

  And damn it—even after all these years, she’d still do anything for him.

  She scanned the pastures, searching the rocks and the trees for any sign of the kid. Soon it would be too dark to look, but she wasn’t ready to give up yet. The sun set late in the summer in Montana, and it had to already be close to ten o’clock.

  A movement caught her eye.

  “There.” She pointed toward a small outcropping of rocks. “I think I saw something.”

  Trip turned the wheel, spinning the truck so that the headlights shone toward the boulders.

  A gasp escaped her throat as the light picked up the form of the teenager, running toward them, waving his arms, the front of his shirt covered in bright red blood.

  Chapter Five

  “What the hell?” Trip asked.

  But Bre had no answer.

  She couldn’t make sense of the scene in front of her.

  What was Spencer doing all the way out here? And why was he covered in blood? Had he gotten hurt when he was trying to run away? Or worse—had he hurt himself?

  Trip slammed on the brakes, jumped from the truck, and sprinted toward the teenager. Bre slid out of the seat and followed on his heels, gasping for breath as she tried to catch up.

  “What happened? Are you okay?” she heard Trip asking the boy as she caught up to them.

  Tear tracks ran through the dust on his cheeks as Spencer nodded and motioned for them to follow him. Panic filled his eyes, and his voice came out in desperate fits and starts as he led them to the rocks. “I saw them going after her. There was nothing I could do. I followed them, but I wasn’t fast enough, and they still got her. John doesn’t let us have electronics, so I didn’t have a phone to call anyon
e. Can you help her?”

  They rounded the corner of the rocks, and Bre almost collided with Trip as he stopped and dropped to his knees.

  On the ground, battered and bloody, lay a black and white border collie. Her haunch was torn open, the wound fresh and gaping, and the fur around it was soaked in blood.

  Bre recognized her as Maggie, one of the dogs that roamed the farm, and she had seen her following Spence around earlier that day.

  “Oh no.” She gasped as she knelt next to the wounded dog. “What happened?” But she could already tell as she examined the torn skin, recognizing the wounds from other similar attacks.

  “She was attacked by those asshole coyotes. We were out walking earlier, checking the fence line, and we ran into a couple of them.” Spencer tried to catch his breath as he sank onto the ground next to the dog’s head. “They took off after her, and all I could do was try to keep up with them. They chased her back here and ganged up on her, then another one showed up by these rocks, and they just attacked her. I started yelling and throwing rocks at ’em, and finally chased them away. But they’d already done this. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “You did fine, son. Real fine.” Trip yanked his T-shirt over his head, balled it up, and pressed it against the wounded dog’s side in an attempt to stanch the flow of blood. He looked up at Bre, a question in his eyes.

  She lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug, not wanting to give them false hope. The situation was bad, and she didn’t know if they’d made it in time. The dog was in poor shape, and Bre could tell from the amount of the sticky stuff that covered the teenager and clotted in the dirt around her that she’d lost a lot of blood. “I need to get her back to the ranch. I’ve got supplies in my truck.”

  “Then let’s get her back to the ranch.” Without hesitation, Trip gathered the dog in his arms and cradled her against his bare chest. She and Spence followed as he hurried for the truck, the teenager moving ahead and holding the door open.