Love's Returning Hope (Love's Texas Homecoming Book 2; First Street Church #15)

by Sharon Hughson

  “You fought for the ranch, Jaz. You did that. And I let you rescue me because I’m too weak to rescue myself.” The truth crushed his chest until he panted, out of breath at the admission.

  She stared at him with wide eyes.

  “I’m not what you need. I can’t be your hero. I’m nothing like Drew.”

  She blinked. Moisture clung to her black lashes. Her pale eyes were luminous and wounded.

  Bailey stepped back. “I’m sorry.” He turned and strode toward Shamgar.

  “That’s not how I see you.” She took a shaky breath. “I see the strength you show in standing up for Tess. The strength to chase me to Austin.”

  He wanted to believe her, but the broken shards of his soul stabbed him. He was good at pretending to be whatever people wanted him to be, needed him to be. But in the end, he wasn’t anyone’s hero.

  “Don’t walk away from me, Bailey. I mean it.”

  He slipped his fingers in the halter ring beneath Shamgar’s chin. “C’mon boy.” The horse flicked his ears in Jaz’s direction but followed Bailey toward the barn.

  “Stop, Bailey. You proved yourself to me, and I love you.” The final words garbled with the emotion in her throat. “Why are you doing this?”

  At the back door of the barn, Bailey halted and glanced over his shoulder. He couldn’t look at her. He was too weak to resist the pull of the lasso that connected his heart to hers.

  “Go home, Jaz. Make things right with your folks. You don’t need me for that.”

  He tugged the gelding forward. The barn shaded them, and whatever else Jaz said was lost beneath plodding hooves.

  Bailey dropped into the corner of the sweet-smelling stall, huddled into himself, and let the horror show of his childhood replay.

  Where was God in all that?

  10

  Jaz pedaled the bike in circles on the back roads outside of town. A breeze tossed dust into her eyes. Nothing could make them redder.

  When she got back from the forced exertion on Saturday night, the motion-sensitive lights snapped on, blinding her as she wheeled her bike into the garage. Her legs wobbled, drained of energy. She guzzled water in the kitchen, glad her parents had already gone to bed.

  In her room, she picked up her phone. There were several texts from Tess. Jaz read them, but they didn’t compute. Words didn’t matter. She’d committed her heart to Bailey, and he’d thrown it back at her like a hot coal.

  We’re done. Let him tell you why. After her fingers tapped out the message, she tossed the phone onto her bed and trudged into the bathroom to wash the sweat from her face and neck.

  Another message blinked on her screen. Come for breakfast tomorrow. We’ll double-team him.

  Jaz blinked, recalling another breakfast. Her heart cramped worse than her rubbery legs. She’d been jealous of their sibling teasing that day, but it hadn’t stopped her from laying a lip lock on the handsome cowboy.

  She shook her head and covered her face with her hands. She was tired of chasing after dreams that didn’t want to be caught.

  Always follow your dreams, Drew’s letter said. But some dreams cost too much. His had cut his life short, and hers had carved out her heart.

  You love him. He loves you, Tess’s next message read.

  No, if Bailey loved her, he would at least give a reasonable explanation for why he was pushing her away. Because his family had dumped him when he was a kid wasn’t a legitimate reason.

  And your dad’s disapproval is reason enough not to have a relationship with him? her thoughts countered.

  Jaz choked at the sudden thickness in her throat and stilled. Her father battered her with a lifetime of scorn. That wasn’t the same as one day in court.

  But what about the years that led up to that day in court? Hadn’t Bailey’s mother and father been choosing drugs over him? He really believed he wasn’t worth fighting for, worth loving.

  But I fought for him. She tried to rationalize away the chiding voice in her head.

  And now? Why wasn’t she fighting now?

  Because I can’t. I can’t be rejected again and again by a man that I love.

  There. She’d admitted it. He’d pushed her away, and that made him just like her father, just like Captain Clayton.

  What about me? Drew’s voice sounded as clear as it had when she’d read his letter.

  What about me? The second voice was barely a whisper, but it twisted a knife into her bruised soul.

  Another line from Drew’s letter echoed across her heart and mind. I’ve found that’s the secret to being fulfilled and feeling centered in God’s will.

  The phone vibrated. Tess had given up on the texts.

  Jaz pushed the answer icon. “I can’t do it, Tess. He doesn’t want me.”

  “He does want you. He does.”

  “Sending me away like that? I don’t think so.” Agony slammed through her chest like it had as she stood in the paddock.

  “He’s afraid.” Tess’s voice quavered.

  “So am I.” Jaz sighed. “I know you’re trying to help, but leave it alone, Tess. Let us lick our wounds in peace.”

  “If you’d just talk to each other, you wouldn’t be alone.”

  Jaz grunted. It seemed like the words had run out. She’d given him her heart, and he’d shoved it aside like a pile of manure.

  “Please. Don’t give up on him.” Tess sounded near tears.

  “I don’t know what more I can do.” He’d sent her away. He didn’t want her, no matter how much her heart wanted him.

  A sniffle from Tess’s end. “He always puts others first. He thinks this is best for you.”

  Jaz snorted. “Yeah, I don’t need him telling me what’s best for me. My father’s been doing it forever, and I’m done with that.”

  “If he chased you again—”

  “He only did it because of you, right?”

  Silence. “You have to push him out of his safe zone.”

  “Apparently we did. And now he’s heading back.”

  A loud sigh. “He’s in the barn. Wouldn’t even stay in the house.”

  “You’re a good sister, a good friend.” Jaz meant it.

  “He thinks loving you puts you at risk, don’t you see?”

  Did she? Not really. She’d stopped playing it safe when she dated him. She still didn’t understand why he’d drawn back again.

  “He needs to figure out what he wants, Tess. Let him.” Jaz hung up.

  The man who had promised to prove his love had decided she wasn’t worth loving. Like every man in her life.

  * * *

  Jaz almost talked herself out of going to church the next morning. But the vacancy in her soul ached, and she didn’t want to be trapped in her parents’ house all day.

  Still, she should have timed it better. The instant she stepped into the vestibule, Elise Nelson looked up from chatting with three teenagers.

  Jaz’s eyes hadn’t adjusted to the interior lighting when the greeter shook her hand.

  “Welcome.” He extended a folded bulletin.

  Before Jaz glanced at the brightly colored paper, Elise swooped down and pulled her toward the women’s restroom.

  “I was going to ask how you are.” Elise backed against the bathroom door. “Puffy eyes say you’re still tired. But that might be from staying out late with a certain cowboy.”

  Elise stopped for breath, and Jaz held up her hand. Tightness in her chest at the mention of Bailey lengthened the pause.

  Elise’s eyes widened. “I heard he was in town. I expected him to come to church, but Tess was alone.”

  “It’s over.” A tidal wave of weariness made Jaz wobble.

  Elise grabbed her arms and furrowed her brows. “What’s over?”

  “Bailey broke up with me.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “He broke up with you because you’re staying with your parents?”

  Jaz shook her head. “I can’t talk about it, Elise. Please.” Jaz poured her grief and fatigue in
to the look she leveled at her friend. “I really need church today.”

  Elise patted her shoulder, apparently stunned into silence. Jaz figured it would be a short reprieve, so she bolted from the restroom while Elise gaped after her.

  An usher opened the door to the auditorium, and Jaz crept to a seat on the far side, practically in a corner.

  She melted into the cushioned chair. Arpeggios floated from the piano. The worship leader stepped to the microphone and called out a number.

  Jaz pulled the hymnal from the basket beneath her seat. Her hand rested on the cool cover. The words and melody circled in her mind. Slowly, tension bled out her pores.

  Peace seeped into empty spaces. Calm infused her, chasing away the fatigue.

  When Pastor Bernie took his place behind the lectern, Jaz’s equilibrium had returned. It unnerved her to discover she’d begun to depend on a relationship with some guy to get her through life’s struggles. Did she really want to be that person?

  Lord, I’m sorry for depending on everyone but You. Show me how to have faith in Your plan.

  Jaz stroked the pages of the hymnal she’d opened for the responsive reading and hadn’t closed. She imagined ribbons of peace spiraling up from the printed words and wrapping around her heart and mind.

  I know You’ll take care of Mom. Thanks for helping her heal.

  She blinked as her eyes burned with emotion.

  Be with Bailey. Show Him how much You love him. Take away his pain.

  The room blurred. Jaz widened her eyes and stared at the cross on the front of the pulpit. She imagined directing her prayers to Jesus, the one who died, was buried, and then rose from the grave.

  Help me let go of these feelings I have for him.

  Where she’d been filled with an overwhelming sense of God’s presence, something twisted in her chest. It would take more than one prayer to release her love for Bailey.

  I didn’t want to love him, God. I’m tired of being hurt by men.

  The peace ebbed further from her. Jaz stared at the pastor, not really comprehending anything he said. Somehow, her prayers were pushing God away. How could someone get further from God while praying?

  The preacher’s voice penetrated the bubble surrounding her.

  “Forgive, and it shall be forgiven you. Jesus is clear that if we want His grace, we must extend grace. People hurt us. That will never change.” Bernie scanned the rows and his gaze seemed to rest on Jaz for an instant. “But if we don’t forgive them, that’s what really hurts us.”

  Forgive.

  Jaz swallowed the sour taste that welled from her gut. Her father didn’t think he’d done anything wrong. How could she forgive someone who wasn’t sorry?

  The thoughts wrestled in her heart and mind. The congregation stood for the closing song. Jaz slipped out of her seat and jogged to her car.

  She’d gotten the message she came for. But what was she supposed to do with it?

  * * *

  Back in Austin, days ran together. Bailey got up in the morning and headed to work. After work, he played ball at the gym with some guys from the office. Then he returned to the tiny studio to eat and try not to think.

  Once he went to sleep, which sounded easier than it was, his mind replayed the final conversations with Jaz. Sometimes he dreamed of their dates and at the end she’d be standing in the dusty paddock, crying. They ended the same as real life: he told her to leave. She always left.

  He’d wake up with a thousand-pound dumbbell smashing his chest, unable to draw a breath until he sat up. Most days, he gasped out a plea—“God, help me.”

  But God had gone silent again.

  That didn’t shock Bailey. He wasn’t following the rules and toeing the line. He hadn’t been to church since he’d attended with Jaz. It was easy to imagine God glaring at him, arms crossed over His chest, a stance his biological father used right before inflicting pain.

  Bailey crushed thoughts of that man and those nightmarish years. He got up, showered, and went to work.

  At the office, everyone stayed at arm’s length.

  On Thursday, Bailey sat in a client meeting with his boss. Bailey was designing a million-dollar home for the couple—a businessman and his realtor wife—so he listened as his boss talked them through their options and wants. With the design software open on his laptop, he made notes about everything.

  At the end of the meeting, his boss said, “Bailey. A word.”

  Bailey nodded and returned to the seat at the conference table. He kept his laptop closed and stared at the man who had hired him. Now in his mid-50’s, Dick Clarkson had started out when architects used drafting tables, not computers. His graying hair receded from his forehead, and gray eyes stared from beneath slender brows.

  “Your probationary period ended a couple weeks ago.”

  Bailey stiffened.

  “We’ve been swamped, but I wanted to take the opportunity to discuss how you’ve been doing. Ask what you expect for the future.”

  Bailey swallowed. Now that Jaz was gone, he didn’t care to look into that crystal ball. The family he’d always dreamed of would never be his.

  “I’ve got your file on my desk.” His boss waved to him. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Dick strode out, and the room felt vacant.

  Bailey leaned his elbows on the table. The future? He could barely manage each day. The gnawing in his stomach told him he was a little concerned about losing the job. But why? Hadn’t he decided he belonged on the ranch?

  Tess needs the income. A niggling at the back of his mind rose to the forefront. Stop using your sister as a cover for your decisions.

  He wasn’t ready to go back to Sweet Grove. But he didn’t want to stay in Austin either.

  Without Jaz.

  He closed his eyes, and her lovely face swam across his eyelids. So beautiful. So out of his league.

  “All right then.” His boss shut the door and sat across from Bailey. “First, everyone thinks you’re a great addition to the team. You picked up the new software in no time, and you follow directions without question.”

  You’re a sheep. He hardly recognized the growling voice he’d heard condemning him for the first nine years of his life. His stomach bucked, and ice tingled in his fingertips.

  He straightened and banished the thought of his biological father. Why was he intruding now?

  Dick opened the folder and glanced at the papers inside. “I’d like to set you up with your own client list.”

  Bailey blinked. “You want me to handle meetings like the one today?”

  His boss nodded. “We’ll start with smaller projects, of course. Designers with their own portfolios earn bonuses for on-time and below-budget projects.”

  “I don’t think that’s for me.” Bailey gulped. “I mean, the money would be great, sure, but I prefer being in the background.”

  His boss squinted. “You’re limiting yourself, Bailey. There’s only so far you can go in the background.”

  But he’d be safe there.

  “I enjoy designing, but I don’t like trying to figure out what a client wants.”

  Dick nodded. “It takes finesse and practice, but you could learn to do it.”

  Bailey shook his head. “I’d rather design.”

  His grandmother’s voice rang as clear as it had been in the courtroom two decades before. The boy’s too much trouble. He rubbed the heel of his hands against his ears. The past hadn’t intruded on him for months. What had changed?

  After a gulp to clear his throat, he said, “You said everyone’s happy with my designs.” He was making himself useful, like always.

  His boss tapped the folder. “Sure, but designing’s entry level. I hardly touch the designs these days, except to review them before presenting to clients.”

  “Designing is what I want to do, sir.” That much was true. “I wouldn’t want to do anything else.”

  Dick studied Bailey, who forced his gaze to remain steady even though the bac
k of his neck itched like he’d stepped on an ant hill.

  “You don’t have to decide today. I’m happy to have you drawing plans for my clients.” He shut the folder. “But if you want to go anywhere in this business, you’re going to have to learn to work with customers and ferret out their vision.”

  Bailey reached toward his skull, realizing his hat wasn’t there for him to tilt. He scratched his ear. “My sister’s been struggling with her startup. I’ve been spending extra time there.”

  “Sweet Grove, right?”

  Bailey ducked his chin.

  Dick cupped the lower part of his face, running his index finger beneath his nose. His eyes stared past Bailey. “I’ve worked with a couple businesses in Rosewood and Harrison. If you need to be there and were willing to see clients, I could probably find some work for you.”

  Bailey’s heart stalled, and his breath froze in his lungs. He could be with Tess and do the designing he loved? If you’re willing to see clients.

  His heart sped again. The twisting below the pulsating beast told him that the idea reeked of a setup for failure. But he wanted to move back to the ranch, didn’t he? And he needed the money.

  “Think about it.”

  Bailey nodded. He wasn’t interested in meeting with clients, but if it meant he could move home?

  Home. Pale green eyes in a square face flashed into his thoughts. He stiffened and slammed the door on the vision.

  The men stood, shook hands, and Bailey returned to his desk.

  After work, he drove to the gym. Jaz’s face haunted him. Would she still want him? The ache in his chest hadn’t lessened during their time apart. If anything, he thought of her more often and reached for his phone to text her at odd moments, choosing instead to stare at the photos he had of her.

  But he’d driven her away. She wasn’t chasing after him.

  Go home, Jaz. She’d done exactly as he said.

  At the gym, a group of guys—half of them from Dick Clarkson Architecture—invited him to join in a pickup game of basketball. He’d enjoyed playing years ago at college in Colorado and with guys from his first job in Houston. Surprisingly, his muscles recalled the moves with remarkable ease.