Sidelines (Wounded Hearts #1)

by S. M. Smith

  “Okay, here we go.” He applies just the right amount of pressure to me that I’m forced to take one step back. Then another, then a little shuffle, then another before he stops us and smiles. “Well done. Let’s try it a couple more times and then we’ll add some music.”

  He two-steps me a full lap around the little yard and when we make it back in front of the steps, Owen stands scoffing at Logan’s progress.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, that’s how you do it.” Sam claps a hand over Owen’s shoulder and gives it a little shake. “She just needed the right partner, son. Just like my Emma does.” Owen shakes his head and reaches out for his girl, who wraps a slender arm around his slim waist.

  “You ready for some music, Casanova?” Emma asks playfully.

  Logan rolls his eyes and doesn’t look to Emma as he nods. “You ready for this?” he asks me quietly.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.” I sigh. A second later, a twangy song sputters over speakers.

  Logan smiles. “Here we go.”

  And we’re off. And I don’t step on his toes. Not once through the first song, at least. During the second song, he tells me he’s going to spin me and when one hand leaves my back and the other holds my hand up above my head, I freeze up, causing us to collide into one another. His arms snake around me so fast that it takes a moment for me to realize that we’ve stopped in the middle of his parents’ front yard, tangled up in each other’s arms.

  “You were supposed to spin,” he breathes, inches from my face.

  “I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean.”

  “It means that you take a bigger than normal step back, loosen your grip on my hand just a bit, and spin once so that when you come back to where you started, I will be there to pick up the dance were we left off.”

  “Well you could have explained that before you tried to make me do it.”

  His arms slide down my back and he finally gives me room to breathe. “Well, now that you know,” he smirks, “let’s try it again.”

  “I don’t know if I’m ready to try this again, Logan.”

  “Don’t you trust me, Allie?” Those words. Again. And this time they’re delivered with probing eyes. Eyes that the orange and pink evening sky complement. His shaggy hair wiggles in the wind and his grip squeezes ever so slightly when his parents lap up.

  “Hey, no blocking the road,” Sam chides as she spins his bride and continues on. Logan’s intense gaze doesn’t leave mine until I finally exhale.

  “Fine. Let’s try it again.”

  He smiles at my submission to him and takes me back up in his arms once again. Before we take a step he makes me practice my spin. Then he walks me through an eight-count, having me spin at the end. It takes a couple of tries, but I finally get it. We’re doing another couple of laps around the yard when Logan starts to hum along with the crooning of Blake Shelton listing all the ways his love complements the object of his affection. It’s at that point I realize that dancing with him feels so natural, almost like walking.

  “You’re a good teacher, you know.” A hint of a smile pulls at his lips at my kind words. He glances behind me, at the older couple dancing around with us.

  “I had a couple good teachers myself.”

  I chance a glance their way and feel my own smile grow. Oh what it would have been like to grow up in a home with Sam and Jillian. I imagine that they are similar to what Maggie and Walt would have been like in their prime.

  “What are you thinking about right now?” Logan goes to move me into another spin and I shake the nostalgic thoughts from my head.

  “Nothing,” I answer when we meet each other again.

  “Well, are you about ready for another dance? Or are you ready to call it a night?”

  I’m just about to ask if we can do another dance, but when I open my mouth, Logan yawns. He’s been going non-stop since we left for the auction this morning, immediately returning to the clean up efforts just as soon as we got back to the ranch after our lunch.

  “Why don’t we call it a night. It’s been a long day.”

  Logan nods and slows us down to a halt.

  When he lets go of me, the evening chill seeps in and makes me shiver.

  “You okay?” Logan asks, his hand sneaking out and rubbing my bare arm. Glancing down at the connection, the first shots of a great battle in me are fired and I realize that I need to stop telling myself to get a grip and actually get one.

  Wrapping my arms around myself, I make my steps a little wider, carefully putting more space in between us, and plaster on a firm smile.

  “Yep, just fine.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  I stare back at the girl facing me. Her khaki skirt is pressed to appear seamless and her navy blue blouse is tucked in without a blemish. Her hair and make up are pristine. But she’s pale and she has a lost look in her eyes. Her fear is etched all over her face, her pain carved into her every feature.

  A knock comes at the door.

  “Hey, you ready?”

  If Logan sees anything I just witnessed in the mirror, he doesn’t let on. Swallowing back the fear, I nod with a polite smile.

  “I’m just going to grab my purse.” He backs away from my door and leaves me to collect myself before we leave for church.

  The idea of stepping inside a holy sanctuary again makes me want to curl up into a ball in the corner. People who go to church do so because they’re seeking God. I found God and despite what everyone told me, He left me high and dry. I have no reason to seek Him. And therefore have no idea why I agreed to join the Lassiter family this morning.

  “You okay?” Logan asks as he pulls open the door to the truck for me. I didn’t consider having to drive in his massive beast when deciding on which outfit to don his morning. Looking up at the steep climb into the cab, I just add that awkwardness to the pile of uncomfortable feelings I’m accumulating.

  “Would you mind if we took the rental this morning?” I ask, absently running a hand over my skirt.

  He eyes me curiously, but nods. “Sure. Just let me get my glasses.”

  I dig the keys to the Mustang out of my purse and don’t even think twice before jumping into the driver’s seat. After buckling myself in, I grip the wheel and start to feel a sense of getting my control back.

  I’ll admit, I woke up in a grumpy mood and knowing what I have to look forward to tonight, I don’t see my bad mood going anywhere anytime soon.

  Logan jumps into the passenger seat, and before he can finish buckling in, I’m already making my way down the long drive. I push back the urge to gun it until we turn out onto the country road. The second my back tires are off of Logan’s property, my foot pushes the accelerator to the floorboard.

  “Whoa, Allie. Slow down.”

  I let out an exhausted exhale and let off the gas.

  “Anything you’d like to talk about this morning?”

  “Nothing to talk about.”

  One of Logan’s hands reaches up and grips the handle above the window. The long fingers of his other hand grips the leather Bible I failed to notice before we left.

  Of course I don’t have a Bible with me to take to church. Come to think of it, I can only vaguely remember unpacking the Bible Maggie and Walt bought me after my baptism, when I moved into my apartment a few years ago. I bet it’s just sitting on the shelf next to my small sofa, collecting dust.

  “Seriously, Allie. I have no wish or desire to meet my Maker today. Please.” The panic in Logan’s voice pulls me out of my head, alerting me to the quickly approaching stop sign. Pushing all other thoughts from my head, I just focus on getting us to the church in one piece. When we pull in, I think I hear Logan mutter some sort of praise that we made it alive. The anguish churning inside takes his words captive and fuels my foul mood, making me slam the car door a little harder than I normally would have. The second I turn and let the unfiltered sun hit my face though, something inside cracks. I shield my eyes to watch people meander in from ever
y direction. The building, so large and somehow inviting, looms like a monument in front of me and something hitches in the back of my throat.

  I feel Logan approach me, his hand finding the small of my back as I turn and stare at the scene in front of me.

  “You don’t have to do this. I can catch a ride with Lucy or something.”

  The tender understanding in his voice slowly urges one foot to step in front of the other. As if on auto-pilot, a small smile makes a home on my face. I feel as if I’m having an out-of-body experience as we enter the building and accept greetings from every angle. There isn’t a condescending face in the crowd, instead I’m met with nothing but welcoming hands and excited faces. On some level I register the fact that a few greet me with awe and fervor, elevating me to an unnecessary celebrity status, but really I feel like I’m walking around with my mind in a haze. The moment we meet up with the rest of the Lassiters, the film is scraped away. Jillian’s warm embrace knocks the breath out of me. When I pull back she eyes me with concern-filled eyes.

  “What’s wrong, honey?”

  A clamber on the stage jerks our attention its way. The band plucks at the opening chords of the first worship song and I brace myself for the words of declaration that will pop up on the side screens shortly. Jillian squeezes my hand, worry marring her beautiful face as she searches my eyes again.

  “Nothing’s wrong. It’s good to see you this morning, though.” And I mean it. There’s just something about being in Jillian’s presence that brings a sense of comfort and peace.

  “I’m glad to see you here this morning too.” She waves us in front of her, letting us into the row. Lucy gives me a quick hug without stopping her songs of praise, but she too watches me with concerned eyes. I try to keep a brave face, but with every song that talks about Jesus being a cornerstone, or how we are held in God’s hands, my heart squeezes tighter and tighter, making it harder and harder to stomach the service. Finally I find reprieve when the music stops and we’re told we can take a seat. A older gentleman with a sweet disposition gets up and throws out a bunch of jokes while making a few announcements before introducing the pastor. A middle-aged, bald man with a thick gut and a warm smile greets the congregation and something about his presence sends me on high alert. I don’t realize I’ve been fidgeting until Logan lays a hand on the back of the seat behind me and leans in.

  “Relax, Allie. Everything is going to be okay.”

  He’s right. I do need to relax, because if I don’t calm down I’m going to pass out from having a panic attack in the middle of the service. Trying to ground myself, I focus on the one thing I have to tether me to reality. The pastor’s voice.

  “If you’re just joining us, we’re on our third week of our study of Proverbs. And if you’ve been following with us, you’ll remember that the author of most of these proverbs was Solomon, the son of King David and Bathsheba. Being David’s only son, he inherits a throne he was humble enough to admit he was not prepared for. So he turned to the Lord for guidance, and the Lord came to him in a dream telling him to simply ask for whatever he wanted from the Lord. So he asked Him for a discerning heart so that he could rule over his subjects in a righteous manner. The Lord was so impressed with his request that He not only blessed Solomon with wisdom and keen understanding between right and wrong, but he also blessed with with those things that he did not ask for—riches, honor, and a long life.

  “So knowing this about Solomon, we turn to his teachings in Proverbs. And if you remember a few weeks ago, we learned that Proverbs was a book written for the purpose of teaching people how to obtain the type of knowledge and wisdom he was blessed with. In the first chapter, we discussed not only what Solomon’s true goal was in writing these scriptures, but also his warnings against following those who want to steer us against or to reject the wisdom of God. And then last week we discussed the promises Solomon makes that we will find truth and meaning in God’s wisdom. We talked about how wisdom will govern our hearts justly and will protect us and ground us in light of what is right and true.

  “This morning, if you will, turn to Proverbs chapter 3 and let’s bask in the promises we find there.”

  The room fills with the sounds of shuffling pages as the pastor allows time for everyone to join him. The boulder of annoyance lays heavy on my heart. I’m never so underprepared, and it clearly shows.

  “Here,” Logan whispers as he holds his Bible in between us. He smiles patiently at me before settling his focus on the man standing at the pulpit.

  The pastor starts to read the first few verses of Proverbs 3, but my mind doesn’t want to settle. The fog in my brain is thick and it isn’t until I hear the words “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight” that I begin to focus.

  The words, written as a promise, have never seemed to really ring true in my own life.

  “You okay?” Logan whispers again. I wave him off, not wanting to draw any more attention to myself than I already have.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Do not despise the Lord’s discipline and do not resent his rebuke because the Lord disciplines those he loves, as a father the son he delights in.”

  Sharp pangs in my chest capture my focus again, and these words are the only thing I can focus on the entire time the pastor preaches to the congregation.

  Why should I trust a god who has done nothing but place me in terrible situation after terrible situation? Why should I believe that He loves me and delights in me when His discipline has been completely unwarranted? What did I ever do to deserve the life I endured before I came to live with Walt and Maggie? What did I do to deserve having the only woman who has ever truly loved me taken away from me?

  The bitterness grows the whole time I dwell on these thoughts and by the time Logan and I get back to my car I’m beyond angry. Then Logan goes and places a hand on my car door and I just about lose it.

  “What is your problem?” I snap.

  “Whoa. Allie, back up. No problem here, but I am concerned about you. What’s going on?”

  I try to jerk the door away from his grasp, but his firm hand stays in place, his biceps bulging against my strength.

  “Nothing is going on. Let’s just go.”

  He takes a step into my personal space, effectively knocking the air right out of me.

  “Give me the keys.” He reaches a hand out, palm up, his eyes softening.

  “No, the rental’s in my name and no one else is supposed to drive it.”

  “Allie, please.”

  Although my temper has risen well above boiling point, his gentleness seems to ease the sting of the wound my heart is nursing. Frustrated, I plop the keys in his hand and storm to the other side of the car. I feel his eyes watching my every move as I pull open the passenger door with too much force and drop myself inside. He slips into the driver’s seat and puts the keys in the ignition but doesn’t move otherwise.

  “Could you turn the A/C on please?”

  He turns the engine over and turns on the fan, but makes no attempt to pull out of the parking lot.

  “Thank you for coming with me this morning.” He speaks as if he’s talking to a spooked, wounded animal. I guess that wouldn’t be too far off. “But I feel like it would have been better if you’d have stayed at home instead.”

  I don’t want to have this discussion right now. I know if I open my mouth all my past, with all its secrets and skeletons, will spill out of me like a waterfall. Logan doesn’t need that kind of negativity in his life. I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life.

  “I’m sorry. You can just take me back and go to lunch at your parents’ house if you’d rather I wouldn’t spoil your time with them.”

  A timid smile pulls at his lips and I look away. The pity that flooded his eyes just adds fuel to the fire.

  “You wouldn’t spoil my time with them. In fact, I think it would be better if you wer
en’t left in your own head right now.”

  Too late.

  “Just take me back to the ranch, Logan. I’ll be fine.”

  “Allie. Look at me.” He reaches over and with the tenderest touch, pulls my chin to face him. The pity has been removed, but something else has taken it’s place. Sympathy? Compassion? How could he feel these things for someone he barely knows?

  “I don’t know what has you chained down this morning, but it bothers me to see you in so much pain. Pastor Mike clearly struck a nerve, and although I really wish you’d tell me what is going on, I—probably better than anyone else—understand your need for secrecy. But can I just say this?” He pauses, searching my eyes to see if I’m really hearing him. “I also understand that sometimes it’s good to tell someone what is going on. Sometimes the load becomes a little bit easier to bear when you have someone helping hold you up. And…I’m here. If you’ll let me, I’ll hold you up.”

  A single tear touches my lip, I briskly brush it away. His empathy has struck yet another nerve and although I’ll never be ready to tell him about my past, I will concede that it would be better if I wasn’t left alone right now.

  “I’ll go to lunch with you.”

  His small smile speaks volumes. He promptly turns back to the wheel, quickly pulling out and moving us to the farm. Slowly, the layers of pain start to fade away as he starts to hum a song they sang during worship. By the time we pull into his parents’ place, I still feel hollow and bit numb, but at least the sting of animosity has left. When he puts the car in park, he glances cautiously at me.

  “I’m sorry you’re hurting, Allie.”

  “It’s okay.”

  He blows a breath between his lips and runs a hand through his curls, messing up his perfectly styled hair. Shaking his head, he looks at me, pain and grief that he’s somehow absorbed flooding his eyes. “No, it’s not. But…I’m glad you’re here.”

  Something about the way he says “here” makes me believe he doesn’t just mean his parents’ farm, but here, with him, in this moment.