by Jennie Marts
Her chin tilted up, and she cried out as he took her again to the brink of desire. Her thighs tightened around his waist as she let go and he went with her, squeezing her hand and gritting his teeth as his own release ripped through him.
Sinking onto the bed, he pulled her against him, spooning her back against his chest as he held her. She curled into him, pulling his arm tighter around her and snuggling into him. He understood that she didn’t want to talk now, didn’t want to get into the hurt or the pain of the past. And he was okay with that, for now.
She might only be interested in rekindling their passion in the bed, but he wanted more. He wanted all of her, he always had, and he always would.
He’d let it go for tonight. Let her rest. But tomorrow they would talk. Because he wanted her back, and he was going to do whatever it took to win her trust again. Not just in his bed, but in his life.
The early morning sun streamed through the window, and Bre stretched her arms, feeling sated and luxurious at the soft cotton sheets surrounding her naked body. She grinned as the memories of the night before came back to her.
But her grin faded as she reached for Trip and realized that his side of the bed was empty.
Sitting up, she searched the room for any signs of him. But there were none. She could see into the open door of the empty bathroom, and there were no jeans on the floor, no boots against the door.
Trip was gone.
Just like before.
She sucked in a breath and tried to control the panic that was building in her chest.
How could she have let herself get so wrapped up in this? This was supposed to be easy. A little hot sex with an old flame. It was just supposed to be about the sex and letting loose and letting herself be reckless for once in her life.
Yeah, right. That was a crock, and she knew it. She could tell herself a hundred times that it was about getting caught up in the moment, about being reckless and not caring about anything past tonight.
It was all bullshit.
Because it was really all about Trip.
It was always about Trip.
About being with him again—touching him, kissing him, holding his hand.
It didn’t matter that she’d promised herself she wouldn’t let her heart get involved. It had always been involved. She’d loved Trip Turner since she was sixteen years old, and he was still the only one who could make her heart beat so hard that she feared it would explode out of her chest.
And the only one that could break that same heart into a million pieces.
She could make a hundred promises to herself, but they wouldn’t matter. No matter how hard she tried to protect her heart, she’d let him back in. Let herself hope that his kisses, his tender touch, the way he’d said her name so sexy soft, were all signs that he was back. That he still loved her and wouldn’t leave her again.
How could she have been so foolish?
Tears stung her eyes as she prayed that she was mistaken. Maybe he was just checking on the horses or had gone down to get breakfast.
She scrambled from the bed, dragging the sheet with her, crossing to the window, praying that his truck would be parked in the driveway.
A hard sob escaped her, and she sank to the floor, leaning against the wall as the harsh reality that he was gone surrounded her. Gone again. Just like she knew he would be.
The door of the room opened, and Trip walked in, carrying two cups of coffee.
Alarm crossed his face, as he must have caught sight of her crumpled on the floor and crying. He set the cups on the dresser and hurried across the room, dropping to the floor and gathering her into his arms. “Hey now. What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
She let herself sink into his embrace, closed her eyes and allowed herself to pretend for just another minute, then she pushed him away. “You. This. This is what’s wrong. Where were you?”
His face looked like she’d slapped him. “What do you mean? You were asleep, so I went down to check on Spence and the dog. Who seems to be doing really well, by the way. And I thought you could use some coffee. I didn’t think anything about it. You just looked so peaceful that I didn’t want to wake you. I thought I was helping.”
“I woke up and you were gone—your clothes, your boots, even your truck, it was all gone. And it all came flooding back to me. All the hurt and the pain of you walking away from me.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I just wanted to surprise you with some coffee. And I told Spencer he could take my truck into town to get some supplies. I wouldn’t leave you.”
“But you did. You did leave me.” He reached for her, but she pushed him away. “How could you leave me like that?”
He ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh. “I had to. It was the only thing I could do—the only decision I could make that would be the best for you.”
“What gave you the right to decide what was best for me? You weren’t my father. We had plans.”
“Yeah, but those plans changed the night of the accident. The night I went to jail.”
“I didn’t care about that. I would have waited for you.”
“I know. That’s why I had to leave. I couldn’t let you wait for me, couldn’t let you ruin your life, your dreams of becoming a veterinarian, just to wait for a guy that had no future and a criminal record. I loved you too much to do that to you.”
“You didn’t love me. You couldn’t have left like that if you’d loved me. You didn’t even say goodbye.”
He hung his head, looking as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I did. I wrote you a letter. A letter that explained everything.”
“I never got a letter.”
He looked up at her, pain evident in his eyes. “That’s because I never sent it. I couldn’t. I almost mailed it a hundred times, but something stopped me every time. An explanation and a bunch of apologies wouldn’t make anything better. And I figured it would be easier on you to hate me than to hope that I’d come back. No matter how much it hurt, I had to make a clean break, otherwise you’d never let me go.”
Her breath caught on another sob, the emotions of the past racking through her body, and she tried to slow her rapidly beating hard.
Every reaction was reeling through her. Pain. Sadness. Grief. Heartbreak.
Heartbreak most of all. She never thought she’d ever feel the kind of heartbreak she’d felt when he left her the first time.
Until five minutes ago, when she’d thought he’d done it again.
She shook her head. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t put herself through the pain of losing him again. One night, one week, two. It wouldn’t be enough. It wasn’t worth it.
Curling her arms tightly around her knees, she hugged her legs, as if to keep her body from breaking apart. “I can’t do this again. I want you to go.”
“Go? What? No. I just got you back.”
Her head snapped up, and her anger exploded. “Back? You’re not back. You’re here for two weeks on your way to a new life in Wyoming. And I thought that was okay. I thought I could handle just being with you while you were here. But I can’t. You hurt me, Trip. And I can’t go through that again. Just go. Please.”
Her chest felt like it was being squeezed in a vise as she watched him stand up and turn toward the door. His shoulders hunched as he trudged to the door. He moved like an old man, like his body was weary, and he didn’t have the strength to hold his head up.
He turned back once, sorrow in his eyes and his voice thick with emotion, as he softly spoke. “I’m sorry,” was all he said, then he walked out, shutting the door behind him.
Grief ripped through her as she felt the fragile pieces of her heart splinter and break as he destroyed her once again.
Chapter Seven
Ignoring the pain that clawed at his gut, Trip crossed the driveway, his boots kicking up dust as he stomped into the barn. The barn was empty, which was fine by him. He wanted to be alone—to stew, to rage, to seethe. He wanted
to throw something, hit something—anything to take his frustration out on.
But he’d already broken something. Something he swore he’d never break again.
Bre’s heart.
Damn it. He should never have let it get this far.
He should have packed up and split the first day, as soon as he realized she was here. But he’d been too stubborn, too selfish. He wanted to see her, to be around her again, and last night he’d actually dared to let himself believe that he had a chance to make things right with her. To try to win her back.
He was an idiot.
Even if she did give him another chance, the lie would always be between them. He’d never be able to tell her the whole truth about what happened the night he left so it would always be there, like a splinter under the skin that refused to come out.
But he couldn’t tell her.
He’d made a promise to her brother.
Ryan was the only one that had ever come to see him when he was in juvie, before he’d been sent to Saddle Creek, and before he’d met John. He’d only visited a couple of times, but Trip had promised him that he would never tell anyone the truth about that night.
And he hadn’t. What good would it do anyway? He’d already served the time. What he did was both for Bre and her brother. Ryan got to go to college, and it sounded like he had a good life.
They’d lost touch after a while. Trip could have looked him up when he got out or when he’d been home for his dad’s funeral, but it would have been like picking the scab off an old wound—it wasn’t worth the pain and the risk of a new infection.
He knew that Bre had gone to college too, had been accepted to vet school, that she’d moved on, and he’d be damned if he would mess that up by showing up in either of their lives again.
But this was different. He hadn’t planned this. It was almost like Fate had stepped in and given Bre and him another chance—put them in each other’s lives again for a reason.
But Fate was a cruel bitch, and all she’d had in store for them was more heartache.
He grabbed the pail of oats hanging on the fence and hurled it across the barn. It hit the wall with a crash and fell, spilling the remaining oats on the ground.
“Geez, what’s got you so pissed off?” a man asked from behind him. A familiar man’s voice, but one he hadn’t heard in years.
He turned and came face to face with Bre’s brother. It had been close to a decade since he’d seen him, and he’d expected Ryan to look older, but didn’t expect him to seem so much older. Like life had not been on his side lately.
He still had the good looks of the Wilson family, although his blond hair had turned brown and matched the beard covering the lower half of his face. He was still in good shape and looked the part of a politician, wearing jeans, a button-up oxford, and loafers.
But his eyes looked sad, and he carried a weariness about him. Trip noted the pack of smokes tucked in his front pocket, and the mint-smelling gum he chewed didn’t quite mask the smell of alcohol.
Alcohol? Really, dude? Yeah, Trip was sure it was five o’clock somewhere, but here it wasn’t even nine yet. Although the boozy scent could be remnants of a late night out.
Ryan held out his hand, and Trip shook it, conflicted at seeing his old friend. He wanted to be happy to see him, but the argument with Bre was too fresh, the reminders of what he’d given up still on his mind.
And some of what he’d given up was for Ryan, so the guy could make something of himself, have a future. Trip had expected him to be put together, successful, married with kids, and living the dream. Yet here he was now, on the verge of a political career move, looking like he’d been ridden hard and put away wet.
“Hey, Ryan. What are you doing here?”
Ryan shrugged. “I heard you were in town, and thought I’d come out and say hello.”
Somehow Trip thought there was more to it than that, but he was willing to offer the guy the benefit of the doubt. “Good to see you. How you been?”
Another shrug. “I’m okay. Got married, no kids, workaholic. You know, the usual.”
No, Trip didn’t know. That wasn’t the usual for him.
“What about you?”
“I build custom furniture. Learned carpentry skills while I was here at the ranch and turned it into a business. I’m in the process of moving to Wyoming.”
Ryan narrowed his eyes. “So, you’re not sticking around Montana?”
He hadn’t planned on it. Hadn’t even considered it. Not until he ran into Bre.
And now he was reconsidering everything.
It was his turn to shrug. “My plans are a little up in the air right now. Mainly because of your sister.”
“Yeah, she told me she ran into you out here. Did you know she’d be here?”
“Hell no.” If he’d known, he might have been prepared. Prepared for the onslaught of memories and feelings that came with randomly running into the only girl he’d ever loved. “I thought she was still in Colorado. I didn’t even know she’d moved back to Montana.”
“So is it a safe guess that my sister is the reason you were chucking that feed pail across the barn?”
“Yeah. No. Sort of, I guess.” He blew out a sigh, then picked up an errant piece of straw and pulled it apart as he leaned against the workbench. “I thought we could try again. Thought that we could put the past behind us. I thought I could win her back.”
“What happened?”
“Oh, let’s just say the hurts of the past have a way of holding on to you. And they’ve got a pretty firm grip on your sister. She doesn’t trust that I won’t leave her again. So she kicked me out.” He tossed the shredded piece of straw to the ground. “Turns out it’s not so easy to un-break a heart.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well, it doesn’t help that we have this huge lie between us, either.” He stared pointedly at Ryan.
A panicked expression crossed Ryan’s face. “You can’t tell her. You can’t tell anyone. You promised.”
“I know I did. And I’ve kept my word.” Although looking at the younger man made Trip wonder if it wouldn’t have been better just to face the truth when it happened. “But we could tell Bre. We can trust her.”
“No. Not now. Not after all this time. She’s the only one left that thinks I’m worth a damn. And if she finds out that I had something to do with you leaving, she’d never forgive me.”
“Yes, she would. She’s stronger than you think—she has the biggest heart of anyone I know.”
“Not that big. Not big enough to forgive what we did. Plus, my career is at a crucial point. I can’t risk word getting out about it. I hate to admit it, but honestly, Trip, my career is about all I’ve got right now.”
“I hear what you’re saying. But I still think we should tell her.”
“We can’t. Not yet. Maybe after the election.” Ryan’s eyes had a desperate gleam in them. “Promise me you won’t tell her. Promise that you won’t tell anyone.”
Geez, it felt like they were in grade school, making a pinkie swear out by the monkey bars. Trip nodded. “Fine. Yeah, I promise. I gave you my word, and I won’t back out on that.”
He’d just have to find some other way to convince Bre that he was someone she could count on. That they were worth giving another shot.
Bre gazed around the guest room, working her way up to leaving. She’d already showered and gotten dressed and repacked her bag. Not that she had far to go. She only had to move her things to the room across the hall. The room she was supposed to go into last night.
What if she had? What if she’d only turned the right direction, opened the right door? Then she would have gone to bed and missed out on what was one of the most spectacular nights of her life. A night spent making love to Trip.
She couldn’t decide if it would have been easier to never know what it was like to be with him again, or to have experienced it, and now she knew what she would be missing.
And she would m
iss him. That was probably why she couldn’t bring herself to leave the room. And why she’d used his shower—and his shower gel—to get ready this morning. It would be torture to have his scent on her all day. Maybe she wasn’t as ready to completely let him go as she thought.
Pushing off the bed, she wandered the room, touching the few things that he’d unpacked. An assortment of odds and ends lay scattered on the dresser: his phone charger, a pair of work gloves, and some spare change.
Pulling open the top drawer, she saw a stack of shirts, a pair of faded jeans, and a worn Bible. Last night, she’d been close enough to read the inscription on Trip’s tattoo. The words “God and Country” were printed under the drawing of the American flag.
She ran her fingers across the soft cotton of the top T-shirt then picked up the Bible.
An inscription in the front told her the Bible was from John, and the date was from that first summer Trip was here at Saddle Creek Ranch. He’d carried it with him all these years, and from the faded cover and dog-eared pages, he’d made use of it plenty of times.
She flipped through it and found a white envelope tucked in between the pages. An envelope addressed to her.
Picking up the letter, she sank onto the bed, worried that her knees would give way. She held it in her hands. Should she open it? It was addressed to her. So it wasn’t like she would be snooping.
What if it answered all the questions to what really happened that night?
What if it didn’t?
What if she read it, and it still didn’t solve the mystery of why he left?
She slid the letter from the envelope. The single page appeared to have been opened and read, and refolded many times, the creases worn and defined.
Taking a deep breath, she unfolded the page and began to read. She could hear his voice speaking the words written there, and tears fell on the page as she read his explanation, numerous apologies, and his declaration to always love her.