Secondhand Heart

by Amity Lassiter

  "Kerri made it. They train through the winter but most of the shows are in the spring."

  "Maybe I'll have to make trips down to shoot her events."

  "Maybe you'll still be here."

  "What do you mean?" she asked, frowning.

  "I just mean maybe you'll still be here."

  "Better not be," she said, taking a swig of the whiskey he'd poured her. It burned its way down her throat and she grimaced, but then took another drink.

  "Easy slugger, it's just to take the edge off."

  She wanted to do a lot more than take the edge off, but getting drunk had never solved any of her problems growing up and she suspected it wouldn't do much now, either. In the morning, things would still be the same. A year ago, she'd have saddled up and ridden out instead. A few hours on horseback at least settled her, and sometimes even helped her work out the knots her brain and her heart were in. And now she couldn't even do that. And based on Finn's response when he'd come in earlier, it was a hell of a long way away from happening.

  "Were you there for Finn's ride on Encore today?"

  The way Noah's jaw tightened when she asked told her everything she needed to know about that.

  "So that's why I'll maybe still be here." She couldn't stop the sarcastic smile she shot across the table at him. None of this was Noah's fault. None of this was anybody's fault but her own, really. She wanted to care about how the ride had gone but she was still angry Finn had taken all her little budding feelings and screwed the heel of his boot right through her heart in two seconds flat. More than that, she was angry at him for letting those feelings grow if he wasn't going to be able to follow through. He was reliable, that was one of Emma's selling points. You could count on him to get the job done. When it came to the job of loving her, though, he'd failed.

  "All I'm saying is that us Baylor boys are good at horses and ranching. Women, not so much."

  He was toeing the line into an area she wasn't comfortable going so she drained her glass and pushed back from the table.

  "None of us got it right the first time," he continued.

  "Alright, Dr. Phil," she huffed, moving for her laptop bag. "I don't have time for a session right now, I have some editing to do, and then I'm gonna turn in early."

  —THIRTY-NINE—

  Finn rose early, before his alarm, before the sun, and dressed quickly and quietly. He pushed open his bedroom door and paused in the middle of the floor, glancing at Lily's closed bedroom door. The room was still empty.

  He'd barely slept. He might have been mad he was having these sorts of thoughts and feelings, but he was reasonable enough to know Lily wasn't to fault for that. He couldn't punish her just because he couldn't get his head together. She was tough as nails, but he wouldn't make her need to be.

  Rubbing a hand through his hair, he bypassed the kitchen and the coffee he was craving and grabbed his coat and cowboy hat off the hook before he stepped out onto the porch.

  The whole ranch was wrapped the hazy, dim, pre-sunrise light, a chill clinging to the air. It felt appropriate. He slid into the driver's seat of his truck, and used the sleeve of his coat to wipe the damp condensation off the inside of the windshield. The engine purred to life when he turned the key in the ignition, and he pulled out.

  There had been times when he'd made this trip more than once a day, but it had mostly petered out to his weekly visits. When she'd been alive, he'd carved out time every week for quiet one-on-one with Sunny over a milkshake at Hinkley's, so it seemed fitting that one day a week still belonged to her, even after his grief had died down to a dull roar. When he counted back, though, he hadn't been to the cemetery in weeks. Not since just after Lily had arrived. Maybe because he'd felt guilty from the beginning. Maybe because he'd been trying to trick himself into believing he could forget about Sunny and move on.

  He idled slowly out past the big house and down the lane, turned left shortly after he passed Noah and Emma's little cabin, where a light already shone in the kitchen window. After a couple years' hiatus, Noah's keen work ethic had rebounded. Especially now that he had something to build on with his wife.

  It wasn't a long drive to the cemetery. It wasn't a long drive to much of anything in Three Rivers, and he was thankful, because by the time he turned right into the grassy driveway of the tiny Three Rivers Cemetery, he was almost hyperventilating. What the hell am I doing?

  He shifted the truck into park and stared at the cluster of headstones inside of the three-sided fence. There were a few floral arrangements, a couple of small statues, and by the marker for Joseph Leaman, Three Rivers' most recently returned veteran, a dozen tiny silk American flags outlining where the casket had been interred.

  Finn could easily find a dozen headstones that said Baylor on them. Grandparents and great grandparents, back to the original family that had settled here. His little brother, Gage's laughing mother, and there, nestled beside Gavin, because Sunny had loved him so and Finn could think of no one better to keep her company in the afterlife, was his wife.

  The plots where Gavin and June were buried hardly had time to sprout green before they'd put Sunny there. He'd practically worn a path through the grass in the first couple of weeks after she'd died. It was like the ricochet after a punch that rattles your teeth; it almost hurt more than the initial strike, and he couldn't make sense of it. He wouldn't have said he'd found his peace, but it did get easier with time, as long as he didn't try to change anything. Having another woman living in his home, making him dinner, making him laugh, and awakening parts of him that had been long dormant was the kind of change he'd generally tried to avoid. But here, he'd invited it in with open arms. And then he'd punished her for the fact that he wasn't ready.

  After some time sitting there, he finally opened the truck door and slipped out. As he took his time crossing the lawn and making his way through the headstones, he thought not of his wife but the softness of Lily's body against his side the night they'd sat on the front steps at his brother's. Of her halo of sleep-mussed hair and bare legs when he'd found her taking pictures of that mug. The easy way she deflected his father when he teased her, and her gentleness with Dane and Ren's brood. Frustrated, he shook his head, slipping between a couple of Montgomery headstones to the plots in the back corner where his family lay.

  He smiled down at Sunny's marker. They'd transposed an image of her turning the third barrel in the middle of the granite piece. It was how he'd always remember her, fearlessly shooting down the homestretch, giving everything she had. It was an accurate portrayal of the way she had lived most of her life—wide open throttle, focused on her goals. He'd always aspired to be like that, but he'd gotten lost somewhere along the way. Or lost the desire for making the goals in the first place.

  He tucked his hands in his pockets and examined the stone for a moment. The short distance between the years of birth and death always pinched his heart when he saw it. Life hadn't been fair. That was the funny thing about your wife dying. You didn't choose to be apart, but all of a sudden, you were missing the other half of your life. Her body was gone, but the relationship still existed—the past, and the uncertain future without them. He'd been hurt when she left, too, but he would have given up their life together if it meant she could have had more time to pursue the things she deserved in life.

  Scuffing his boot against the grass, he shook his head, one corner of his lips turning up. In life, she would have smoothed her hands over his shoulders and insisted he tell her what was on his mind. He could almost feel it now, the way she would lean over him and her long, blond hair would follow, smelling of honeysuckle and citrus. He'd lived this way for so long, with her memories instead of her body, that waking with Lily in his bed felt foreign; not wrong, but different.

  He swallowed hard and turned. This was supposed to make him feel better—surer, in one direction or the other, but it didn't. When he swung around, Noah's truck had pulled in next to his.

  Finn let out a long breath and tucked h
is hands in his pockets as he started back toward the trucks. He knew there was no way in hell Lily had gone back to their place the night before and not told Noah or Emma or maybe both at least a little of what had gone on. And eventually, he'd have to face up to that. But not today. Not right now.

  "What the hell are you doing here?"

  "I saw you drive out."

  Noah leaned on the hood of his truck, watching him approach. And Finn walked right by, climbing into the driver's seat of his truck. Without missing a beat, Noah jumped into the passenger side and grabbed the keys from the ignition.

  "Not so quick."

  "Get out of my truck, Noah."

  "What'd Sunny have to say?"

  Finn's fingers tightened around the steering wheel, even though he hadn't turned the key. He blew a short breath out. "Look, Noah…"

  "No, you look, Finn."

  Finally, he swung his gaze to meet his brother's. He hadn't always seen eye to eye with Noah, but he'd always had his back. Years ago, a well-timed poke in the mouth was the most effective method of communication with the youngest living Baylor brother, and Finn wasn't opposed to it now if Noah didn't get the hell out of his truck. Every emotion he'd had over the last month was all wadded up in his chest with no place to go.

  Noah closed the keys into his fist, tipping his chin up as if he was waiting for his payment for interference.

  "What do you want?"

  "I want you to make things right with Lily."

  It would have helped had he actually known what making it right would be. He couldn't deny he wanted Lily, but the fear in the driver's seat right now was twofold. Opening himself up to the vulnerability of loving someone he could easily lose again was terrifying, and so was the possibility of not living up to her expectations—her one desire that had tipped off the entire whirlwind of attraction was the one thing he couldn't make happen for her.

  "Noah, I respect that she's your friend, but this is none of your business."

  "It might not be, but there have been times when you straightened things out that weren't any of your business, either. And I'm here to repay the favor." Noah turned his body in the seat to look at Finn head on. "And you're probably gonna cuss me for it, but you're going to listen."

  Finn's jaw worked, and he drew in a slow breath through his nose, stopping just short of counting backwards to try to calm himself. He had messed up with Encore, he had messed up with Lily, and now he just wanted to be alone and lick his wounds in peace. The other downside of the family ranch.

  "I know Dane's already had this conversation with you, but we had a chat and we're well aware of how thick-skulled you can be. And it's important, now. Because that girl is gonna go back to Denver and you're gonna go back to where you were before. And that's not good for anybody."

  "Well it isn't bad for anybody, either."

  "Isn't it?"

  Finn couldn't look his brother in the eye.

  "I got by."

  "Barely."

  He wouldn't give Noah the satisfaction of acknowledging how much more fulfilling his day-to-day had been since Lily had come to the ranch. Even in the beginning, when they'd been at odds. And especially later, when he found he preferred his house with someone in it at the end of the day that wasn't just his own shadow. But his brother didn't know what it was like to lose someone you loved permanently, irrevocably, like he had. He'd lost Emma for a couple years, but Finn couldn't just clean up his act and make things right with Sunny and have her back like Noah had been able to do with Emma.

  "You might not have ever turned to the bottle the way I did, but you sure as hell aren't living the best life you can. And we've let you slide along under the radar for a while because you've never looked as happy yet as you do when Lily's around.

  "So we've come to the consensus that we're not going to let you just let this go. Because you deserve to be happy, just as much as anybody else in this town. And it's not right for you to deny yourself that."

  "Who's we?"

  "Dane… Emma… Ren…" Noah paused, tightening his lips and Finn knew what came next. "Mama."

  "You told her?"

  "Actually, she came sniffing around for details. You know not a single one of us can keep a secret from her. Not even you, holed up in that little cabin all by your lonesome."

  He did have a point, there.

  "So you have a couple of choices, I figure," Noah continued. "You either listen to what I have to say and work at it, or Mama is gonna come at you with both guns blazing and nobody wants that, either."

  Finn's hands dropped off the steering wheel and he exhaled slowly as he sat back against the seat, staring ahead. A heavy fist of anxiety caged his chest, his heartbeats stuttering. He'd never said this out loud, or even articulated it in his head, and speaking the words made it feel true.

  "I can't lose someone like that, again, Noah." His brother shifted, but Finn still didn't meet his eyes. "I'd die."

  "You wouldn't die. You've picked yourself up before."

  "You have no idea what it feels like to pin all of your hopes and dreams on a life with somebody and have that pulled out from under you, and be completely helpless. So don't try to tell me what's gonna happen here, because you don't know, Noah. You've never been through this. I have. Trust me on this one. No, if I had to do it again, I couldn't pick myself up."

  "So you're going to give up before you even try?"

  It sounded so much worse when it was phrased that way. But the overwhelming need for self-preservation made him nod.

  "I guess that's what it is." Finally, he glanced at Noah. His brother still held his truck keys tight. There was no way out at this point, and he was tired. He swallowed.

  "Bullshit. Complete and total bullshit." Noah shook his head. "An insult to the way we were raised, for one thing. And a piss poor tribute to your wife, for another."

  Finn's lips tightened. If Noah had come here to rile him up, he was doing a good job, touching on what had been the cornerstones of his adult life.

  "Hit me if it makes you feel better." The younger Baylor tipped his chin up, taunting him. "Hit me."

  Though his hands were balled into fists on his thighs, Finn sighed. "I'm not going to hit you."

  "If that's what it takes for you to get whatever's messing up your head out and get over yourself and make things right with Lily, I'm willing to take one for the team."

  Wrinkling his brow, Finn took a moment to open his hands, resting them palm down on his thighs now; an effort to show his brother he wasn't going to take him up on his offer, no matter how badly he felt like it.

  "That's ridiculous."

  "So is this." Noah leaned across the truck, putting the key in the ignition, and opened his door. "You can't just not live your life because you're afraid of what happens next. It's like saying you're not gonna keep riding horses because Encore bucked you off. Sure, you might eat dirt again. Might even hurt yourself. But what about all that good stuff that comes in between? That sure as hell makes the tough times easier to bear."

  Finn watched Noah slide out of the truck. He hadn't shed a tear for Sunny in years but now he felt them in the back of his throat, suffocating his heartbeat. There had been so much good, but the end had been the hardest thing he'd ever had to deal with. Harder, even, than losing Gavin and June just six months before. Because it hadn't mattered what he'd promised her, he didn't get to pick how things ended.

  Noah closed the door behind him and then leaned in the open window.

  "You'll do the right thing."

  —FORTY—

  Lily sucked in a frustrated breath and leaned back against the fence, blinking hot tears away. Her vision still blurred. Tank turned his head, soft eyes watching his obviously frustrated would-be rider. He'd stood stock still the whole time she struggled to wrench herself into the saddle but it wasn't working the way she had envisioned it. Not by a long shot. Finn had flung her into the saddle that first ride, and she'd let him do it every other time after—it was just easi
er. Walking up from Noah and Emma's this morning, she had convinced herself her body was getting stronger from the regular riding sessions and she'd be able to do it on her own.

  She'd hoped sleeping on things would make her feel better, but there hadn't been much actual 'sleeping' happening on the little couch in Emma's living room. A lot of tossing and turning, aching insides and unspent tears, but not a lot of sleep.

  Now all she wanted was a long ride into the woods to clear her head, and she couldn't even accomplish that. When she thought things were about as bad as they got, she heard Finn's truck pull into the yard. A burst of adrenaline had her jamming her toe into the stirrup and making a valiant attempt to wedge herself in the saddle that only ended with her foot slipping, and her weight piling back into boards of the round pen with an intensity that knocked the air out of her lungs. Tank took two slow steps sideways as she crumpled to the ground.

  And she stayed there, because it was the easiest thing to do, with her knees jammed up against her chest. She dropped her forehead and let one sob and a couple of tears squeeze out.

  "Lily!" Finn's voice strained with worry, and she heard his boots on the gravel as he crossed the yard, leaving his truck engine still running. She lifted her head, sniffed, and brushed the tears off her cheeks. She'd done way too much crying in the last sixteen hours. More than she'd done in a year. She was soft, and vulnerable here, and the man who was now letting himself into the round pen while Tank snuffled near her feet, had, whether he knew it or not, poked a bruise, and barely showed her anything that wasn't tough and impermeable.

  She was struggling to her feet by the time he reached her, and she shrugged off his help, brushing sand off the seat of her jeans. She collected her fallen reins and swung them over Tank's neck.

  "Are you okay?"

  He couldn't have asked a more loaded question. With tears still burning her eyelids, she couldn't bring herself to look at him.

  "I was just trying to…" She gestured at the gelding.