by Amy Vastine
“I need you alive. I need you safe with me.”
He looked down at their entwined hands. He found himself staring at them, as if he had to memorize how hers felt against his. “I need you, too, but I wouldn’t feel alive if I always played it safe. That’s not me.”
“I’m not enough, then.” Brielle’s gaze met his and slid away.
Grief, longing and regret swelled in the silence. A strange panic rose inside him, and he thought she must have felt it, because she squeezed his fingers.
“I’m not enough,” she repeated, her voice waterlogged, her lashes spiked.
“No.” The admission kicked its way out of him, bruising his heart, cracking his ribs, scratching his throat out so every part of him hurt. For most of his life, he’d been part of a pair. Therapy had taught him how to live without Jesse.
Strange how he’d finally learned to live without Jesse, discovered his own identity, and now must figure out a path forward without Brielle. But he couldn’t just be part of another duo. He had to discover himself, regain his identity, if he was ever to be whole.
Brielle began to pull away, but he tightened his grip. He didn’t want to let her go. He felt like a magnet gone awry, being pulled between two poles.
He leaned forward and kissed her, like people kiss at train stations and airports, full of love and desperate longing, kisses meant to last the weeks, the months, the years, the lonely forever ahead. With that kiss, he tried to tell her how much she meant to him. He tried to show her that she was the answer to a question he hadn’t even known he’d been asking.
“Stop.” She pressed her palms against his chest and eased away. “I don’t know what you want.”
“I’m hoping you’ll want me to be me,” he said, trying to ignore his pounding, aching heart. “More than you want to stash me in some bubble. I wouldn’t be able to breathe in it.”
“And I can’t breathe outside that bubble…” Her voice dropped. “Or while worrying about you out of it. Today proved that, though I tried, Justin. I tried.”
He pushed a lock of hair back from her eyes, and her face crumpled. “You did, sweetheart, and that means a lot.”
“So neither of us gets what we want.” Brielle’s voice cracked, and her eyes filled with tears.
“Not each other,” he said hoarsely.
She placed her damp cheek against his, and he clenched his jaw and breathed in the scent of her, trying to embed some of that solidity into himself, to carry a bit of her with him, wherever he roamed.
As for his heart, it’d remain with Brielle. He’d given it to her, and there it’d stay.
She stood, let out a strangled “‘bye” that might have been a sob or a cough or a gasp, and dashed outside.
He stared at the shut door, his feet stuck to the linoleum floor, processing that a part of him had been ripped loose and left him half a man. In a flash, he bolted to the door, shoved it open and clambered down the short stairs.
Cole stepped in front of him. “Let her go, buddy.”
“Out of my way!” Cole matched Justin’s sidestep, blocking him. “This isn’t your business.”
“Any woman in distress is my business,” Cole said stoutly. “She said goodbye.”
“How did you…” Justin looked over his shoulder and stared up at the RV’s open windows. “You heard everything.”
“Yes.”
“Then you know why I can’t let her go.”
Cole folded his thick arms across his chest. “Are you going to ride tomorrow?”
Justin nodded.
“Still planning on climbing Mount Everest?” Cole’s eyebrow rose.
Justin’s back teeth ground together as he craned his neck, searching out Brielle. “What’s your point?”
“If you love her, then let her go.”
The simple, powerful statement hung in the space between them then exploded in Justin’s chest, ripping him wide-open.
His head bowed, weighed by the truth of Cole’s words.
He loved Brielle, and because he loved her, he had to let her go.
Dr. Sheldon told him no one moves on without a backward look. You moved on always carrying with you those you’d lost. Justin had learned how to carry Jesse, not as a burden, a weight keeping him stuck in the same place. Jesse’s presence now felt like a gift.
Would he ever come to think of Brielle that way?
The resounding answer, no, crashed through him. With Jesse, he’d had no choice but to let go. Brielle’s loss was a self-inflicted wound, one that’d never heal if he stayed away. On the other hand, he’d hurt her if he remained, his unhappiness at being hemmed in turning to arguments and resentment.
Better to leave it this way so she’d have a chance to move on, to be happy, to have the life she deserved, a life he longed to give her but knew he couldn’t.
As for him, no matter how far he traveled, he’d never move on, not with his heart with Brielle, in Carbondale.
Tomorrow, he’d do everything in his power to deliver an unforgettable open house and rodeo show which would give her everything she wanted.
Everything but him.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“QUITE A TURNOUT,” Craig Sheldon observed, handing Brielle the paper plates she’d requested after running through her third stack. He squinted at her in the bright sunshine while he pulled up his striped poncho’s hood against the cool afternoon air. “Maverick Loveland’s appearance did the trick.”
“I can hardly believe it.” She cut a wedge from one of the apple pies dotting the foldout table and slid it onto a plate. Doreen squirted a dollop of sweet cream. Next, Craig carved out a square of cheddar cheese, emitting a creamy, mouthwatering aroma, then placed it atop the pie before passing it the next person in line.
“Can I have pumpkin?” a middle school–aged boy asked, stepping forward. “And apple.”
“Don’t be greedy,” chided his pregnant mother.
Brielle smiled at the woman who’d identified herself as a recovering alcoholic and pledged her support for Fresh Start at the first town hall meeting. “We’ve got plenty.”
“Well, in that case, I’ll have both as well, since I am eating for two. No cheese on mine, though. And extra cream, thanks.” She rubbed her rounded stomach, and the small, serene smile playing on her lips filled Brielle with longing.
Would she ever have a child, a family, a partner to love?
Her eyes searched out Justin. Wearing fringed black leather chaps over faded jeans and a denim shirt stretched across his lean, muscular torso, his white cowboy hat contrasting with his dark hair and hazel eyes, he looked incredibly handsome. Soon, he’d ride against Maverick, yet he appeared completely unconcerned, despite his bandaged wrist, as he conversed animatedly with a group of stern-faced men. She recognized the rude father from the motor cross race among the group. Was Justin persuading them to vote for Fresh Start? Given their grudging nods, he was making headway.
Were others being convinced?
Today’s high turnout boded well for the upcoming vote. Locals crowded the property, eating barbecue, playing horseshoes and sticking their heads through cutouts of cartoon characters painted on particle board for photo ops. Children lined up for face painting while women and men examined the arts and crafts tables, some purchasing the tooled leather belts, turquoise bolero ties and beaded jewelry the residents had created for the open house. A group of adolescents crowded Maya, who modeled studded black leather wristbands while Paul, wearing his combat fatigues, enthralled an older group as he assembled an unloaded AR-15 blindfolded. Everyone seemed to be having a good time.
Everyone but her.
Brielle should be over the moon, but instead she felt stomped flat, her heart still battered from yesterday’s devastating conversation with Justin. Since the moment they’d met, she’d wanted to help him, heal him, and in s
o doing she had, ironically, given him the wings he needed to fly away from Carbondale.
From her.
She could travel with him, on her vacations, but not on the kinds of trips he’d want to take.
Mount Everest?
Hundreds of people died trying to scale it. And weren’t there frozen casualties along the trail? She’d seen enough for one lifetime…
What was the saying?
Whither thou goest, I will follow… But she couldn’t pledge this to Justin, and he wouldn’t be happy trapped in Carbondale.
She’d been worried about abandoning him the way she had her other charges once. But now he was leaving her, moving on, no longer needing her help, no longer a wounded man.
Did that mean she was the one still wounded?
“How about a break?” asked Cole, sliding behind the table with a young woman Brielle remembered seeing with the Lovelands at the town hall meeting.
“I’m fine.” Idle hands were the devil’s workshop. She’d have a devil of a time not imagining Justin trampled or worse in his imminent bull ride if she didn’t stay busy. X-rays showed he’d sprained his wrist yesterday, yet he insisted on riding.
Stubborn, obstinate daredevil of a man.
“This is my sister, Sierra.” Cole picked up a pie cutter and helped the next person in line.
“Howdy.” A petite blonde with piercing blue eyes stuck out a hand. “We’re excited to support Fresh Start. Cole’s been raving about it.”
“We’ve been lucky to have his help,” Brielle said after a brief handshake, returning Sierra’s warm, friendly smile.
“Dr. Loveland! Yoo-hoo!” shrilled a woman’s voice.
“Oh, Lord, save me,” muttered Sierra before she beamed a smile at the one-eyed pug’s owner. “How do, Mrs. Leonard? I see Otis is doing fine.”
“His hip is bothering him terrible. He needs me to carry him everywhere I go.”
Otis wriggled against his owner’s tight grip, half of his body smooshed into the folds of her torso.
“Would you like some pie?” Brielle pointed her cutter at the apple then the pumpkin.
“No, dear. I have to watch this figure or no one else will.” She winked at Cole, who erupted in a red-faced coughing fit, then asked Sierra, “Would you mind giving Otis a checkup?”
“Right now?” Sierra passed a slice of pie to another visitor.
“Well…” Mrs. Leonard’s tongue darted between her lips as her eyes lingered on the pies. “Maybe I will have just a sliver of apple first.”
“Everything on it?” Brielle asked before sliding the wedge to a hovering Doreen.
“Yes. And pumpkin, too. But not too big. Just a sliver, now.”
“Got it.”
“But put some extra on for Otis, so I can share.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Doreen rolled her eyes and Craig chuckled beneath his breath as they heaped the plate.
“Thank you, dears,” trilled Mrs. Leonard. “This really is quite the event. Now where were the patients you said Otis could help?”
“How about you and Otis lend a hand at the craft table?” Brielle pointed out the spot. “I bet that cute face of his will sell us out, and you can meet some of the residents.”
“Wonderful! Dr. Loveland, I’ll stop by your practice tomorrow. Otis has an important job to do today.”
“Indeed, he does.” Sierra smiled. “I’ll see you then.”
“Thought you specialized in wildlife.” Cole doled out a huge cut of apple to a pint-size girl holding a stuffed pig.
“Otis is pretty wild.” Sierra laughed.
“Cole, Sierra and Doreen have everything in hand,” Craig said, catching Brielle’s eye. “How about a stroll?”
Before she could refuse, he cupped her elbow and guided her through the throng to a stack of hay bales beside the horse stable. He removed his poncho, laid it over the rough straw and gestured for her to sit.
“Why do I feel like I’ve just been called to the principal’s office?” Brielle perched on the stiff square. All around rose the pungent smell of horse manure mixed with fresh hay and sweet corn feed.
“Nothing that formal.” Deep lines radiated from the corners of Craig’s eyes as he smiled. “Just wanted to check in with you.”
“I’m fine.” Her gaze flitted to Justin, who now spoke to a mountain-size man she recognized from the flyer photos. Maverick Loveland. A cluster of admirers hovered nearby, some holding paper and pens for an autograph.
“I heard you fainted at the motor cross race.”
Her head snapped around. “Who…?”
“Justin and I had a session this morning.” Craig sat cross-legged on a hay bale, his eyes closed and his face lifted to the cloudless sky. With his open palms facing up, he looked ready to meditate, not chat.
“What else did he say about me?” As she watched, Maverick clapped Justin on the back and the two strode toward a corral encircled by filled risers. Seated attendees cheered wildly. In a few moments, they’d ride the bulls…
Her mouth vacuumed itself dry.
One eye cracked open. “You know I can’t divulge that.”
“Patient confidentiality,” she affirmed, for the first time in her life hating rules.
“You care about him,” Craig said without inflection. Or judgment. Like developing a personal attachment to a patient wasn’t any big deal at all. As if it didn’t break the biggest rule of all.
Her heart quivered, panic-stricken, as Justin and Maverick climbed up to the chute holding the bulls. “I care about all the facility’s residents.”
Craig popped both eyes open and studied her until she squirmed. “Fine.” She tossed her hands in the air. “Yes. I have feelings for him.”
“He returns them.”
Mounted speakers interrupted her next question, announcing the start of the barrel-race competition. A moment later, Amberley appeared in the corral astride her horse and thundered around the course at breakneck speed. Her daring, flawless ride was jaw-dropping considering the genetic condition that left her legally blind. Justin had mentioned his brother Jared, a former NFL star, guided her using a walkie-talkie system.
It must take an incredible amount of trust to follow a partner, blind, into an extremely dangerous situation, yet Amberley made it look easy.
“Did Justin say he cared about me?”
Craig shook his head, his lids lowered again like a Zen Buddha…one she wanted to throttle for being so cagey. A horse nickered on the other side of the stable wall.
“Then how do you know?”
“It’s my job to study people and emotions.”
She waited for the cheers to die down as Amberley finished her race then asked, “How about everyone else? Do they know?”
“Yeah. I’d say they do.”
She dropped her head in her cupped hands and groaned.
Craig tsked. “Anyone who looks at the two of you can tell you’re in love.”
“I might be,” she gasped, “but…”
“Justin loves you.”
Hope ballooned inside her, inflating until it butted against reality and burst. “It doesn’t matter.” Another barrel racer streaked onto the course to rip-roaring applause.
“Why?”
She scooched back on the hay bale to rest her back against the stable wall. “Because I have to let him go.”
Craig plucked sticks of hay loose and began plaiting them. “What makes you feel that way?”
“He wants a life I can’t handle.” An invisible steel wire strung itself around her chest then tightened. The barrel racer thundered out of the corral as a pair of ropers entered. Her eyes widened when she recognized Paul and Justin.
“He’s come a long way,” affirmed Craig, professional pride ringing in his voice.
“Yes�
�maybe too far. He’s left me behind,” she admitted, eyeing Justin as he expertly tossed a lasso around a bolting heifer’s head, checking its wild rush. An instant later, Paul unleashed his rope, snagging the kicking calf’s ankles. Justin leaped off his horse and bound the thrashing animal in a movement so fast, it blurred.
Craig dropped to the ground and leaned forward, his fingers twisting one strand of hay over another and another in a repeating pattern. “You can catch up.”
“How?”
“You shared your experiences to help others.” His hands paused in their task. “How about talking about your past to help yourself?”
A moment passed, then two, before his meaning sank in. “You think I need therapy?”
“What would you tell yourself if you were one of your clients?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it, unable to formulate her tumbling thoughts into a coherent sentence. All the while, Craig continued braiding his straw plait as if he had all the time in the world. The cheering crowd snagged her attention again. Another pair of ropers, this time Jewel and Jared, expertly trapped and trussed a bellowing calf.
She knew how the poor, panic-stricken creature felt. While in Kandahar, she’d been mostly trapped on its base, waiting for disaster to strike, never knowing how or when or where. The constant state of anticipation, of dread, had never left her. Sometimes she’d simply wished for a strike so she could stop worrying about it…crazy as it sounded.
Did she need therapy?
Unlike her fellow vets, she hadn’t seen true combat… “I don’t want to keep reliving the past—it needs to stay there,” she said at last as James galloped into the arena and circled it atop a massive stallion, performing tricks in the saddle.
“What’s behind that belief?”
“Because I can’t find peace if I don’t put it behind me.” As she watched, James deftly switched sides in the saddle, touching the ground with his feet before popping up and over his horse. How many more acts before Justin’s bull ride? She couldn’t stick around to watch.
“Is it ever truly behind you if you don’t deal with it?”