by Jane Porter
Didn’t want to be reminded of what he’d lost.
But it ate at him over the months...ate at him through the holidays and the New Year and all through this past year until the holidays rolled around again.
What if she wasn’t okay?
What if she needed something?
What if she needed someone?
He didn’t know why he couldn’t relax. He was sure she’d be fine. Rachel was smart and pretty as anything. What man wouldn’t sweep her off her feet and give her the storybook happy ending?
But the thing was he didn’t know for sure, and he needed to know, with the need for knowledge and a resolution becoming stronger with every passing day until he traveled to Mineral Wells to see her for himself.
And now he saw, and he knew, and he’d been wrong.
So very, very wrong.
She wasn’t okay. And sure, she could make light of losing her house—Sally’s house—and she could be brave about raising a little boy with developmental disorders on her own, but he knew the truth. He knew how her story was supposed to go, and it wasn’t like this.
Acid burned his belly. He longed to lean out the window and puke. To vomit all the pain out of his body. But it wouldn’t help the pain in his heart.
Cade couldn’t remember the last time he felt so ill.
That wasn’t true. He could remember. Five and a half years ago in a moment of alcohol-induced righteousness, he told himself he didn’t need a nineteen-year-old girl giving him an ultimatum, and he’d climbed out of bed, stepped into his jeans and his boots and walked out on her.
Cade blinked. His eyes felt gritty. Hot. He blinked again, trying to clear his vision. The gate to his property came into view and he braked, punching the remote in his truck that opened the gate.
Pulling through his gate, his vision clouded again. His lashes felt damp. Cade ground his teeth together, his jaw aching at the effort to restrain emotion. Leaving Rachel had hurt, but not half as much as knowing how much he’d wounded her.
* * *
IT’D BEEN A ROUGH NIGHT and a rough morning, Rachel thought, watching the tow-truck driver pull away from her and her broken-down car, leaving them both on the side of the road where the driver had found them. And now things weren’t merely bad, they were the worst.
As in the worst-case scenario.
Mia’s wedding was supposed to start any minute, and yet Mia’s gorgeous wedding cake was still in Rachel’s car—a fifteen-year-old Jeep Cherokee she’d bought secondhand but was ideal for transporting cakes—because the tow-truck driver couldn’t hitch the Jeep to his truck without destroying the cake, and there was no way Rachel was going to let Mia get married without her cake.
In between calling the tow-truck company and waiting for the driver to arrive, she’d phoned a half-dozen different people trying to find someone who could transport the cake to the gardens in Weatherford, but no one was answering and she knew why. They were all at the wedding.
My God. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t.
If there was one small blessing it’s that Tommy was with Mrs. Munoz for the afternoon and wasn’t here to see her fall apart.
But no, she couldn’t fall apart, not yet, not until the cake was delivered to the gardens.
Staring out toward the highway, her heart thumping a mile a minute, she suddenly thought of Cade’s black truck. His truck would be perfect. It had a huge cab and plenty of space for a delicate four-layer wedding cake.
Rachel didn’t know where Cade lived anymore, only that he had a ranch somewhere in Parker County, and Weatherford was the seat of Parker County, so he couldn’t be that far out of the way...
It’d been over five years since she’d tried to call him, but she knew his old cell number, would always know that number, and wondered if it would work now.
Quickly she punched in the number and held her breath, praying it was the right number, praying he’d answer, praying he was free—
“Hello?”
Her stomach fell and her legs turned to jelly. “Cade?” she whispered.
“Rachel? What’s wrong?”
Of course he knew that if she called him something had happened. He, of all people, would realize this wasn’t a social call. Overwhelmed by intensely ambivalent emotions, she couldn’t speak for a moment, her throat swelling closed.
“Rache?”
“I’m okay. I’m just...” She glanced around her at the fields bordering the empty highway. It was a very rural highway with minimal traffic this time of day. “...stuck on the side of 180 with Mia’s cake in back of my Jeep. I can deal with my car later, but I’ve got to get Mia’s cake to the reception—”
“I’m on my way.”
He reached her in twenty-eight minutes. Rachel knew because she’d stared at the clock on her phone the entire time, and then once he arrived, in dark dress jeans and a black jacket that matched his black hat, he had the enormous cake out of the cargo area of her Jeep and into the cab of his truck in no time. She didn’t even have to tell him to be careful. He handled her cake as if it were made of glass. Arriving at the gardens, Cade summoned the catering staff and put them to work, moving the cake into its spot on the round table near the dance floor just as the first guests began to stream into the tent.
Without even shedding her coat, Rachel went to work repairing some of the little buttercream swags and re-creating some of the torn lacework with the tubes of icing she’d brought from home. She stood back to inspect her handiwork. It wasn’t perfect but it was still damn good and Mia would never notice.
Heaving a massive sigh of relief that the cake was here and safe and beautiful, Rachel quickly tucked the tubes of icing back into her bag, hiding them from the guests who’d begun to wander around the tent looking for their places at their assigned tables.
She glanced up to discover Cade watching her, a curious expression in his blue eyes. “What?” she asked him.
“You’re amazing.”
She blushed and pushed a wave of dark hair from her warm cheek. “Perhaps you haven’t been paying attention, but I’m actually something of a disaster.”
“I have been paying attention, and you have no idea how much you impress me. You’re a beautiful and amazing woman, Rachel James.”
A lump formed in her throat and she had to blink and look away. There was a time when she’d hung on to his every word, when a compliment from Cade made her float on the air. But now his compliments stung because they were just words, and she didn’t trust words, and she definitely didn’t trust him.
“Maybe we could find something cold to drink,” she said. “I’m really thirsty. How about you?”
* * *
CADE HAD PROMISED RACHEL that he’d drive her back to Mineral Wells whenever she was ready to leave the reception, and Rachel had warned him that it wouldn’t be until after the cake was cut, in case there was a cake emergency. But fortunately for Mia—and Rachel—there was no cake emergency, and at four the cake was finally cut and devoured. In fact, not a piece remained anywhere, including the small top round, which Mia had intended to save.
When told that Mia was near tears over losing the smallest cake round, Rachel found Mia in the ladies’ room dabbing her eye makeup, and Rachel gave her a quick hug. “Don’t cry,” Rachel begged her. “I’m going to make you a miniature wedding cake for your first wedding anniversary next year. It will be just as lovely and will taste twice as good, since it will be fresh and not froz
en for a year.”
Mia blinked as new tears welled. “Really? You’d do that for me?”
“Yes.” Rachel grinned and winked. “It’s a piece of cake.”
Now buttoning up her winter coat, Rachel walked with Cade through the gardens on their way to his truck. “That was such a beautiful wedding,” Rachel said, her high heels crunching gravel as they left the paved path for the parking lot. “But it’s always a relief when the cake has been cut and eaten, and I know the bride and groom were happy.”
“I heard you promised to make Mia a small cake for her wedding anniversary,” Cade said, fishing his keys from his pocket.
“She was so sad that the top round was eaten and there’s no reason for her to be sad today. It’s simple enough for me to make her something for next year.”
He opened the passenger-side door of his truck for her. “Will you charge her for the anniversary cake?” he asked, offering her his hand to give her a boost up.
“No.”
“I didn’t think so,” he said, closing the door behind her and walking around the truck to climb into the driver’s seat.
Rachel watched him settle behind the steering wheel. He was such a big, solid man. Even in a truck this size, he seemed to completely fill the cab. “What does that mean?”
“Just that you are exactly who you’ve always been. Loyal, loving, generous.”
“She’s my friend. I’m a professional baker. It’s the least I can do.”
He shifted in his seat, his lips curving faintly. “Darlin’, I’m not criticizing you. I’m complimenting you. I respect you and admire you. You’re a good woman, through and through.” His smile slipped, faded, and he reached out to smooth a dark tendril of hair from her face. “And I didn’t know your parents, but I heard your grandma talk about them plenty, and I can tell you this, if they were alive, they’d be very proud of you, too.”
For a long time Rachel couldn’t speak, too overwhelmed by emotions to say anything. But when they reached the place she’d left her car on Highway 180 and discovered it was gone, she looked at Cade. “My Jeep?”
“I had it towed to a good mechanic in Mineral Wells.” He suddenly sounded uncertain. “Hope that’s okay?”
She glanced at him and took in his creased forehead and troubled gaze. “Yes. I appreciate the help, and I appreciate you driving me home.” She hesitated. “You remember we’ve got to stop at Tommy’s sitter on the way, too, right?”
“I do.”
They both fell silent and they drove for nearly ten minutes without talking before Cade broke the silence. “I’m sorry, Rachel. I really am.”
“It’s fine,” she said quickly.
“No, it’s not,” he answered brusquely. “It’s anything but okay, and we both know it.”
The curtness of his tone surprised her and she glanced at him in the dim light of the cab interior. It had been twilight when they’d left the wedding but it was nearly dark outside now, which made it hard to read his expression. “It was a long time ago, Cade.”
“Not that long ago. I remember.”
Rachel pressed her lips together, her insides suddenly bruised and too tender.
“I remember the drinking,” he added tersely. “I remember the fights and the tears. I remember you crying—”
“Cade.” She cut him short, pressing her hands to her knees, her voice strangled, because she remembered, too.
“I remember you telling me how much you loved me, and that I was everything.”
She closed her eyes, steeling herself against the past, against the terrible ache, as well as the scar covering her heart, which barely held it together. “Let’s not do this,” she said, thinking he had no idea how hard it had been to get over him and even harder to accept that once he left, he wasn’t coming back.
“Rachel, I remember our last night together. We were in bed and you had your arms around me and your cheek pressed to my chest, and your tears were falling on my bare skin. I remember how hot they felt as they fell.”
She angled her body away from him and stared out the truck window, her fist pressed to her mouth to keep from making a sound, because every detail from that last night was permanently engraved in her memory. It was the night she gave him the ultimatum. It was time he got help. Time he stopped drinking. She loved him so much, but she couldn’t stand by and watch him self-destruct.
And he’d listened to her that night, quiet, so very, very quiet and much too still, and then after an endless silence that stretched for fifteen minutes, then thirty, he smoothed his hand over her head and kissed her forehead and said she was right. She was absolutely right. She did deserve better. Then he climbed from bed, stepped into his jeans and dressed. And left.
He left her.
She waited days, weeks, months for him to come back. Waited days, weeks, months for him to come to his senses, remember how much he loved her, remember how she was his heart and his life and his soul. Waited for him to be the man he’d always said he’d be for her.
But he didn’t return.
Didn’t call, didn’t write, didn’t email, didn’t do anything and Grandma kept telling her to give him time...give him time...but it was killing her, not hearing from him, killing her, not knowing how he was doing and what he was doing...killing her that he could have forgotten her so completely. And so she tracked him down, showing up in Waco where he’d entered a rodeo, hoping that once he saw her, he’d remember how much he loved her. But it didn’t work out that way. He saw her, all right, but she saw him, too, lip-locked on the rodeo grounds with another brunette. Rachel’s replacement.
Rachel met David a week later while out with girlfriends in Fort Worth. Her friends had dragged her with them for a girls’ night out, determined to help her forget Cade. They’d driven to Fort Worth and gone line dancing. David was there that night at the bar, and he’d been handsome and charming. He had bought her drinks and all of her friends drinks, and showered her with compliments.
Rachel didn’t normally fall for guys like David—a little too smooth, a little too polished, a little too quick with a line—but he made her feel special and important, and desperate to get over Cade, Rachel slept with him on the second date—just that once—because they never went out again, but Rachel only needed that one time to get pregnant.
David didn’t want anything to do with her or the baby when she told him. He even moved to Calgary, taking a job there, to make sure he couldn’t be roped into anything.
Thank God Grandma had been there. Thank God Grandma had loved her. She drew another quick, painful breath and then forced herself to face Cade. “You want to talk about this? Okay, fine, we’ll talk. Yes, the way you left me hurt. But I’m not mad at you, Cade, and to be perfectly honest, I don’t think about you, either. I have Tommy now, and he’s my life, and I wouldn’t have had him if you and I had stayed together.”
Chapter Four
When they arrived at Mrs. Munoz’s small house in Mineral Wells, Cade put the truck into Park, and Rachel opened the passenger door and headed up the front walk to get Tommy.
Rachel thought Mrs. Munoz looked pale and tired as she handed over Tommy’s small backpack and his coat. “Everything go okay today?” Rachel asked her sitter as she crouched in front of Tommy, zipping up his puffy winter jacket.
“Everything was fine.” Mrs. Munoz leaned on the back of a chair in the hall. “He was a good boy. I’m just not feeling so well.”
In the four years that R
achel had known Mrs. Munoz, Mrs. Munoz had never once complained about anything and Rachel swiftly straightened, concerned. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s probably nothing.”
That was never a good sign, Rachel thought, forehead creasing. “Are you sick?”
“No, no. The doctor just wants to run some tests—”
“What kind of tests?”
“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about me.”
“But I am worried, Mrs. Munoz. What kind of tests?”
“They want to check my heart, but it’s probably nothing—”
“Oh, Mrs. Munoz, why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because we don’t know anything yet, and you need help—”
“But having Tommy here can’t be good for you.”
The elderly woman shrugged. “He likes coming here, and I like having him here.”
Rachel’s chest squeezed tight and she felt the pressure inside her grow, the old pressure she’d felt when Sally was dying and Rachel was eaten alive with guilt that her grandmother was exhausting herself trying to help her. She felt the same guilt now because Mrs. Munoz was a truly lovely woman and had been an invaluable help these past several years. Rachel wondered now if she’d leaned on the caregiver too much.
“When do you see the doctor again?” Rachel asked her.
“He wanted me to do the tests a couple weeks ago, but you’ve had those two weddings, and now the move—”
“My work and the move aren’t more important than your health! Nothing is more important than your health, Mrs. Munoz, and I’m going to keep Tommy with me this week until you get your tests done and have your results and you know what’s going on.”
Rachel gave Mrs. Munoz a fierce hug goodbye, but walking to Cade’s truck with Tommy’s hand tucked in hers, Rachel felt close to tears. Mrs. Munoz was such a sweet lady. Nothing could happen to her. Nothing.
