by Tessa Layne
Riding gave her no joy. All she thought about when she groomed Daisy was Iris. And riding with Blake. And other things that had transpired while riding with Blake.
So she walked until her feet hurt, rode until the sharp pain diminished to something close to but not quite a dull ache, and threw herself into her work with a frenzy, working every moment she wasn’t sleeping.
There was solace in math. No emotions, and therefore safety. The cold numbers numbed the spiky fragments that remained of her heart.
Blake had called multiple times a day the first week, but they’d slowed to once a day. And she’d stopped taking her phone with her when she went places, eventually giving it to Jamey and reverting to her landline in the lab.
Jamey had reported her father had called, but only twice. He wouldn’t grovel. Of course, in his crazy mind, there was nothing wrong with him offering up his daughter like a hog at market.
An obviously pregnant cow wandered close, a wildflower hanging out of her mouth. She pushed her glasses up and peered at her.
“What are you looking at?”
The bison chewed and contemplated her out of one eye. They were magnificent creatures up close. Far more interesting than cattle. More complicated. Moodier. Like Blake.
She crumpled her sandwich wrapper and jammed it into her pocket, turning to make the trek back to her office. Even if she ran to the end of the universe, something would be there to remind her of him.
A car sped by, only adding to her irritation. She’d gotten used to the quiet sounds of the ranch. Of songbirds, wind and hawks. Of crickets and night peepers. Punctuated by the occasional vehicle. She’d found scope for the imagination at home. Space for her to imagine and contemplate. And it showed in her work. In spite of the stress of dealing with her father, some of the best results she’d produced in years had happened down on the ranch. After twelve years of life in the big city, first Boston, then here in Chicago, it surprised her to acknowledge she craved the solitude and space of the prairie.
Back in her office, she was no better. She couldn’t focus, and sat staring out the window, turning the same set of numbers over and over in her head. The phone rang.
“Hansen.”
“Maddie Jane, when you gonna stop hiding?”
“I’m fine, Axe, thanks for asking.” She rolled her eyes. Hansen men were all alike. They just varied by degrees of orneriness. “And I’m not hiding. It’s called work.”
“It’s hiding when your roommate screens your calls.”
“Clearly, she’s doing an excellent job of it.”
They both remained silent for a moment. This obviously wasn’t a social call. Axel rarely called. Gunnar was the one she checked in with regularly.
“Is there something you needed?
He sighed into the phone. “You need to talk to your men, Maddie Jane.”
“Oh no. I don’t think so.”
“Look, Warren’s pretty frail. Ma won’t let him move back to the bunkhouse, and it seems like the piss has been taken right outta him. I think he’s real sorry.”
She pushed on her glasses as she frowned at the phone. “Dad’s happiest when he’s meddling. And he doesn’t get to do that to me anymore. Ever.”
“Maddie Jane, you’ve never not spoken to him.”
True. “He also never tried to use me to make a land deal before.”
“Don’t you see he misses you? He’s just an ole’ cuss. So what if that’s what he told Sinclaire? Even if he’d sold me and Gun the property, we’d have sold the Sinclaire side back. And not just to make a nice little profit.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “Sinclaire’s stand-up.”
“How can you say that after what he did?” The tiny little scab forming over the gaping hole in her heart ripped off again, catching her breath.
“Have you listened to him, Maddie Jane?”
“No.”
“Maybe you should.”
“I saw all I needed to at the diner.”
“You don’t know the whole story.”
“And you do?”
“Yeah… Yeah I do.”
“Is that why you called me?”
“Not my story to tell. But this is. I made a mistake a few years back and let someone go ’cause I wouldn’t listen. I wish more than anything I hadn’t.” Regret thickened his voice.
So Axe had his heart broken… join the club.
“I’m not gonna tell you what to do, but just…” He sighed into the phone. “Just don’t wait too long, Maddie Jane.”
“I’ll take that under advisement.”
They hung up, and she sat lost in thought, staring out the window.
Over the last few months, her life had been upended and tossed out with a salt shaker. Nothing made sense anymore. She’d lost her trajectory. Everything she thought she wanted, she didn’t. And things she’d dismissed before suddenly became important.
She stood, smoothing her skirt, and adjusting her glasses. She could at least take one step. Someday, in the far-off future, if she was brave enough, maybe she’d take another.
She opened her door and marched down the hall, the staccato sound of her heels echoing off the silent walls. She knocked on the second door.
“Dr. Richardson?” She tried the handle, and the door opened. “Do you have a minute?”
The older man peered sternly at her over his spectacles, but waved her in.
CHAPTER 31
Maddie stepped off the bus at the Metra station feeling a little bit lighter. She’d originally planned on going back to the apartment and putting in another full evening of work, but as she walked by Frenchie O’Neill’s, she slowed.
She’d avoided stopping by the restaurant since she’d been home. The memories were too fresh. Too painful. But Jamey would be there prepping for the evening rush, and the bar would be quiet.
Before she lost her nerve, she pushed open the door, and made her way back through the curtains to the bar. She carefully avoided looking out to the patio. Sure enough, Jamey stood poring over two notebooks at the bar, a glass of whiskey in hand.
Her red curls bounced as her head popped up. “Well, well. Decided to come out of your hidey hole?”
Jamey turned and grabbed the bottle of twelve-year Redbreast. It had been their crisis bottle of choice for years. Pouring her a measure, she slid the glass down the counter.
Maddie narrowed her eyes at her best friend. “Axe called.”
Jamey shrugged, a little smile hinting at the corners of her mouth. “I figured it was okay to give him your work number.”
“It was.” She held out her hand. “I’d like my phone back, please.”
“Oh praise the saints. It’s about time, Maddie. Don’t you think you’ve put him through the ringer?” She skewered her with a look. “Don’t tell me that man doesn’t love you. Did Marcus ever call you once, all those years ago?” She raised her eyebrows.
Jamey was right. He hadn’t.
“And another thing.” Jamey waved the whiskey in her hand. “You know my brother Jarrod. He’s not an O’Neill by birth.”
That got her attention. Jarrod was the oldest of the O’Neills, and the only one of Jamey’s brothers not to go into fire or police protection. Instead, Jarrod had chosen litigation. If she remembered correctly, he’d left Boston for a stint in DC.
Jamey nodded at her questioning glance. “Yep. That cat got let outta the bag right about the time I met you. Jarrod left the family for a bit over it.”
“What happened?”
“He was a babe when Ma and Pops met. We’d always assumed they’d done things the old Irish way, but nope. Ma’s family had disowned her for havin’ a babe out of wedlock, and that’s how she met Pops. Pops adopted Jarrod as soon as they married.”
Shocked, Maddie took another sip, letting the burn warm her. “Why are you telling me this now?”
“Why do you think, Mads? Pops loved Ma so much her past didn’t matter.”
“The difference was he knew what he was
getting into.”
“Maybe, maybe not. My point is you choose to love a person, lumps and all, not the idea of the person. We’re not robots, Mads.”
Jamey was getting wound up, sloshing the whiskey as she waved her arms. “Forgive me for saying, but yer behavin’ like a spoony feckin’ eejit.”
And the Irish was out. Always a sign of Jamey’s emotional state.
“For chrissakes, the man loves you.” She grabbed the phone out of her coat pocket, waving it in her face. “I know. I’ve listened to the messages.”
Maddie reeled back. “What? You invaded my privacy?”
Jamey scowled at her, pouring another round. “You lost that privilege when you made me keeper of your phone. And another thing.” She took a gulp. “No one. No one, can live up to your expectations of perfection. Numbers might be perfect, people aren’t. So quit cryin’ whiskey tears that yer man let you down. Newsflash, Mads… they all let you down. Men are a bunch of witless fucktards. Big arrogant babies.” Her face twisted.
Realization dawned. Were Jamey and Jean Luc having trouble? Maddie hoped not. One of them at least should be happy.
Jamey took a deep breath and pinned her with a gaze so intense she squirmed. “But you choose love in spite of the pain. Because you can’t breathe without it.”
Understanding slammed into her with the force of a particle smasher. Maddie pushed up her glasses, studying the whiskey swirling in her glass. Jamey was right. Axel was right. She’d only been half-living her life. And the force of Blake’s love had blasted away the casing she’d placed around her heart. There was no shutting the door to love ever again. She’d made one step in the right direction this afternoon. Could she take another, bigger step? And then another?
“Stop thinking, Maddie.”
Her eyes flew toward the voice with the power to melt her insides. Blake’s eyes raked over her hungrily, setting off a chain reaction in her belly. He removed his Stetson, placing it on the bar. Jamey grabbed a clean glass from behind the counter, poured out another measure of whiskey, and slid the glass down the bar. He reached out and caught it, bringing it to his lips, not taking his eyes off her for a second.
She couldn’t speak. Not with her heart squeezing in her throat like it was. So she drank him in greedily, refamiliarizing herself with his planes and crevices. He looked gaunt. Tired around the eyes. Haggard, even. Her heart twisted with the knowledge that she was partially responsible for the pain etched there.
Jamey broke the silence, slamming the bottle of Redbreast on the counter between them. “I’ll leave you two. Don’t get up until you’ve sorted yourselves or you’ve finished the bottle.” She left them alone.
CHAPTER 32
The sound of the bottle hitting the bar echoed through the room. When he’d first come through the curtains, the sight of her sitting alone and dejected had squeezed Blake’s chest. Seeing that she was still wearing her blue glasses instead of the black had squeezed it further. At the same time, a little thrill of hope stirred. If he had even half a chance, he’d take it and run.
Her eyes were pools of conflict. At once wary, relieved, and hungry. Her cheeks had hollowed, confirmation of Jamey’s report that she hadn’t been sleeping. She started to speak, but he shushed her mouth with his finger, shaking his head.
“Me first.”
Touching her, after weeks of his body starving for her, sent a jolt of awareness through him. He traced her bottom lip, and was rewarded with her quick intake of breath. Good. Maybe he had a shot after all.
Blake took a deep breath, suddenly at a loss for all the words he’d rehearsed on the plane and every time he’d called. Grasshoppers jumped inside the walls of his stomach. He dropped his hand, reaching to take hers.
He wanted to touch her.
Needed to touch her.
Hold her.
Assure himself that she wasn’t a phantom and that this time she wouldn’t disappear the way she had in his nightly dreams. He brought her fingers to his lips, pouring all the feeling roiling inside his body into the gesture. She gave his hand a little squeeze.
“Maddie, love. I was so wrong. The whole time I was hammering you to let go, I was afraid to do the same thing. I was afraid that the mess my family made would be too much for you.”
“Blake.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“No.” He shook his head, emotion thickening his voice. “Just hear me out… Please?”
Her eyes wide and full of question, she nodded.
“I wasn’t lying when I said I love you. I love you more than my own life, and I want to be with you above all else. But you deserve to know everything. Before your dad collapsed, he did try to tell me I had to marry you if I wanted the Sinclaire land back.”
She stiffened, but he rushed on. “I don’t think he meant it. And the first thing I told him was that I didn’t think you’d take kindly to it. And then he collapsed. I should have set the record straight at the hospital, but I’m not sorry I didn’t. I think I was already half in love with you. And I paid him more than full price for the land. And only took back what’s on our side of the river.”
God. He felt tongue tied. Like a teenager asking a girl on a first date.
Her eyes softened and she nodded a fraction. “I talked to Axel earlier today.” The corners of her mouth tilted slightly. “He said you were ‘stand-up’. That’s high praise from him.”
So they had helped him. Good to know they’d meant it when they offered. “And you need to know some awful things about my family.” He paused, searching her eyes for any clues. Not seeing any, he charged ahead, pushing the fear to the recesses of his mind.
“Jake Sinclaire was an SOB.”
“So I’ve been told,” she murmured.
“He was a lying, drinking, cheating sonofabitch.” His voice caught. “And he broke my mom. I’d catch her crying sometimes when she thought no one was looking.” He took a deep breath. “And… and the reason we lost the property in the first place was because she went to your dad and offered it to him.”
She gasped, eyes widening.
He nodded. “Yep. Your ole cuss of a father saved my brothers and sister. Jake had drunk or gambled everything away. There was no food in the house. Mom sent him to your dad for a friendly game that she knew he’d lose.”
“Blake.” Her hand squeezed his. “I had no idea.”
“No one did. One of many dirty secrets our family kept.”
He reached for the whiskey and took a sip. She did the same.
“That summer was the worst. I was twenty, working two jobs, and eating at the gas station because I was sending ma everything for food.”
“Oh, Blake.” She shook her head. “That’s too much for anyone that age.”
He flashed her a wry grin. “Weren’t you almost a PhD by that age?”
For the first time since the disaster at the diner, her eyes crinkled with humor.
“I was. But I wasn’t trying to support a family.”
The silence between them no longer felt anxious or awkward. But there was still more to tell, and while he felt more hopeful the longer they sat together, hands entwined, his heart still thumped uncontrollably in his chest.
He grabbed his glass and drained it. He studied her intently, gathering his courage.
A kiss.
He needed to kiss her. To caress her mouth with his again.
Then.
Then he could bare his soul once and for all. He tugged on her hand, pulling her closer. And leaning in, brought his other hand to the base of her head, threading his fingers through her hair and disturbing her hairpins.
Her lips were soft as silk beneath his, and a charge of electricity threaded straight to his balls. The urge to crush her to him was profound, but he held it in check, wanting to savor her sweetness, her taste. He would never take this for granted. As long as he lived, he would cherish this brilliant gift in front of him.
She gave a tiny little sigh, and without him asking or pressing, op
ened under him and flicked her tongue inside his lip.
He melted at the sweetness even as his cock leaped forward. She loved him. He knew it as sure as there were boots on his feet and a ring in his pocket. This was not the kiss of someone saying goodbye. This was the kiss of someone welcoming him home.
He pulled back, resting his forehead on hers, letting his heartbeat come back to normal. “There’s no easy way to say this, love. Kylee will never be entirely out of our lives.”
She hissed out a breath, stiffening.
“She is Simon’s mother, and I can’t change that. On paper, I’m Simon’s father. And I won’t change that.”
She gave a little squeak and pulled back. Eyes wide and full of pain.
“Just hear me out. Please. I need you to hear me out.”
She pressed her lips together, eyes glistening with unshed tears. It stabbed at him.
“Simon is my half-brother. He belongs to Jake.”
“What?” Her jaw dropped, shock and confusion moving across her face.
He nodded slowly.
“I was twenty and trying to protect mom from something I think she already knew.”
Maddie reached for her glass, emptying it in one gulp. She grabbed the bottle and poured out another measure, adjusting her glasses.
“Does Brodie know?”
“He does now.”
She licked the whiskey off her lips, nodding. In spite of the seriousness of their conversation, the gesture distracted him entirely. Unable to resist, he lowered his head again, his tongue sweeping out to taste the remnants of whiskey. She brought her hands to his face, emitting a little moan, and responded in kind. The whiskey laced kiss warmed his blood, replacing anxiety with hope, fear with love.
“Tell me what happened, Blake.”
He scraped his hand across his face, and took a gulp from his glass. “It’s ugly. She and Brodie had been on and off. I came home unexpectedly to help Emma with a 4-H project and stumbled across Kylee and my dad. Both drunk and having at it.”