Explosive Memories

by Sherri Thomas

  “I can hear you thinking.” He set the half-eaten food next to hers. “What’s up?”

  Mentally requiring space, she stood. Maybe she should just blurt it out and let him decide what to do with the information. Blurting probably wasn’t the most ladylike way of dealing with the situation.

  “I told you what happen when I arrived home…but not everything.” The knot of nerves fisted tighter in the base of her stomach, and she twisted her fingers together. “I caused my mom and dad a lot of grief…”

  Trent lifted a hand, growling as he stood. “I’m here to listen all you need me to, and I may not have known your parents, but I’m sure they’d want you to be happy.” He rotated his left arm. “Do you think mine were pleased with everything I did?”

  Watching him work the limb, she ignored reasoning and trudged on. “After the fire, I lived with my aunt. She told me my mom prayed and prayed I’d turn out okay. She cried because of me.” The daily sermon hovered around Jordan’s selfishness and what her shenanigans cost everyone, what her bad judgment cost the whole family.

  “Sounds like a great aunt,” he mumbled.

  Jordan lifted her gaze to his. “My relatives are very religious, and I’m the sinner of the bunch.” She looked down at the floor. “The black sheep.”

  Strong hands grasped her arms, not quite digging in, but enough to grab her attention.

  “Look at me, damn it.”

  She couldn’t. “You don’t understand.”

  Trent gave a small shake. “What warped sense of faith did your aunt believe in? Families stick together in times of tragedy, not blame one another. I should know. I’ve tried my parents’ patience plenty, not to mention my brothers’.” He slipped a strand of hair behind her ear. “We were young adults having fun, and enjoying each other in the process.” His lips teased her in a quick, sensual kiss. “End of story.” Thumbs rubbed back and forth, causing a ripple of heat to the surface. “You need to let this go and forgive yourself.”

  Her hands landed on his chest to put a few inches between them, but got caught up in soft fabric molding the muscular plains. “I tried for weeks to find the cabin, to find you…” She searched his face for reassurance and the strength to continue.

  “The bonfire was at Charlie’s, our neighbor on the main route. His access road leads to our woods. That’s the way I drove you to the shack.” Warm hands dropped away, leaving emptiness behind.

  Taking in the tilt of his head, the tenderness of his gaze, the way he smiled that sexy half-grin, renewed every second of the past. Renewed her faith in him.

  Stay on track. Focus. The words swirled on her tongue. Instinct told her to trust him, and holding on to that glimmer of hope, she plunged on.

  “After that night, I changed my ways. I signed up for college like my parents wanted, I stopped partying…” She rambled, but couldn’t stop the flow. “…but it was all too late. My parents were still gone. I had no idea how to reach you. I wanted to find you, to tell you—”

  He seized a hold of her, clenching his jaw. “I know, but you have to stop beating yourself up over this. Tomorrow, maybe you should go talk to someone. I’ll go with you if you want, but this can’t continue.”

  Realizing he thought she was talking about her parents again, tears burned behind her eyes, and she fisted her hands, digging fingernails into her palms. “I stopped drinking and took care of myself. I don’t know what went wrong. The doctor said the situation couldn’t be helped. I’m sorry, Trent, I…I lost your baby. She was stillborn.”

  Trent reeled back and stared in disbelief. Had she just said baby? His baby?

  As the impact of her statement sank and settled heavy in his chest, he inhaled a shallow breath, feeling as though he’d been punched in the gut. This wasn’t about her parents anymore. This was about Jordan and him. And a baby. Jordan carried his baby. She gave birth to his baby. Was that even possible? Of course, they made love, but he used a condom every time—in the back of his pickup, in the cab of the truck, the shack, and…the pond.

  The pond. She dove in to cool off, things got heated, and…

  Having a hard time wrapping his brain around the concept, or what any of the information meant, he needed to hold on to something solid and threaded his fingers into the silky strands of raven black hair as his lips brushed across her forehead. His body sidled toward her, seeking some sort of contact without any conscience thought. The warmth from her body heated his.

  “And yes, I’m sure you’re the father, because you’re the only man I’ve been with, other than my first time.”

  He froze. The admission stunned him, and this time he stepped back. How could that be? “No one else?” he asked, surprised at the rawness of his own voice. This was all too much to take in.

  “No.”

  “You mean even since…”

  “No.” She grabbed his shirt front in her fists, her gaze on his. “I have never had sex with anyone other than you, okay. There. Happy now?”

  “Never? Not in the past six years?”

  She had to be lying. No one went that long without—

  “No.”

  He sucked in much needed oxygen. “Damn, darlin’, you really know how to knock a guy out of the saddle.” He rubbed a hand down his face, taking a second to absorb it all. How was it possible this woman only had sex with him? How was any of this possible? Too many thoughts tumbled into his head to sort. Too many denials. No way could this be true. How…? Why…? Only him? She only slept with him…

  The fact no other man had touched Jordan since, and the very idea of her having carried his child crippled him.

  “Please don’t hate me. My aunt told me it was God’s way of punishing me. That I was a sinner and deserved what happened.”

  As shocked as he was, the plea gripped him like a vice around his chest. Though this would take him a while to grasp, none of it was her fault no matter what she believed.

  “Your aunt needs her head examined.” He’d love to call the woman and give her the name of a few shrinks. Maybe take a side trip and beat the hell out of the ex Darcy talked about. Then again, he should thank the guy. Because of him, Jordan came back to Texas. Had she really not had sex with the live-in boyfriend? He shook his head in an attempt to collect his thoughts.

  The baby. He needed details. “What happen with the baby?”

  She rested her forehead on his chest for a minute, then her gaze rose to his as her palm pressed against his heart. “Labor was long, and right before entering the birth canal, she rolled and came out breach. The doctor tried to help, but…she died from asphyxia, a lack of oxygen.”

  The words tumbled out with a dry eye, and other than a slight crack in her voice, were void of emotion. During all the confessions, not one tear fell, but she couldn’t hide the tremor that shook her body or the slight quake of her hands.

  Trent imagined she cried plenty over the years. She was strong, brave, and honest. To overcome such heartache by herself and come out on top proved a true testament to her strength. These little breakdowns caused, no doubt, by months, years of listening to the all-holy aunt, but he planned to undo the manipulation the witch instilled.

  “Darcy didn’t know about the baby?”

  “No.”

  Needing something solid under him, he sat on the sofa. As if the strength left her body, she sank down beside him, and he stifled a groan as his shoulder thwacked the back of the couch. The nuisance stiffened more and more. A lot of truths were coming out tonight, and as much as the truth pained him, he admitted the doctor may have been right. His non-compliance prolonged the healing of the injury. But he’d worry about that later.

  “When are you going to tell me what happen? I mean, what led up to rotator cuff surgery?”

  Not able to shift gears so quick, he mumbled, “Hazards of being a cowboy.”

  “Uh-huh. Somehow I doubt that.”

  Not wanting to discuss any part of the past involving April, he went back to the matter at hand. “You said,
she?”

  “Yes. We had a baby girl.” She pushed herself from the couch. “I’ll be right back.”

  Even as boggled as his brain was, he still admired the graceful way she sashayed out of the room. How should he act when she returned? Should he question her? Doubt her? She gained nothing by claiming to have given birth to his child…his daughter.

  Wow, talk about a stampede stopper. The whole turn of events felt foreign, and his mind spun.

  “Here.” She reentered the room and handed him an envelope. “I could never bring myself to throw them away.” Raising a slender shoulder, she continued, “They were taken about three weeks before she was born.”

  Wondering if he should break the seal, Trent flipped the paper over in his hand.

  “I think it’ll end some of your disbelief.”

  He slid the seam open. Slipping two fingers inside the fold, he extracted a couple of black and white photos, and his Adam’s apple lodged in his throat. Although he was able to make out almost every detail, he still asked, “What exactly am I looking at?” He glanced from the image in his hand to the woman beside him. Cold fingers clutched his forearm.

  “They’re sonograms of our daughter. It’s amazing how far they’ve come and how much detail they’re able to pick up.” Her gaze cast downward. “She looked almost identical when she was born.” A sad smile framed her lips.

  Covering his hand with her own, longing crossed her beautiful face, and he knew then and there he’d give her the world if he could.

  “I’d give her the moon.”

  Nick’s words echoed in his head, robbing him of speech. He swallowed the emotions and inspected the next picture. Although taken at a different angle, the photo didn’t look much different from the first.

  “You can’t tell by these, but she had the same birthmark as you.” She shrugged. “Guess that’s something else you’ll have to take my word for.”

  Jordan had traced the outline on his thigh a night long ago, telling him the shape reminded her of a horseshoe. As a young boy, he accused his parents of branding him and his brothers with the symbol, but found only he and his father sported the mark.

  He rubbed a thumb over the image. His mother still had ultrasounds of his brothers and him, but none this graphic.

  The very concept of this woman having his child inflicted a strange protectiveness to fill his chest. She swore to having his baby, yet only the single proof remained, two black and white pieces of film. The infant died during birth, therefore none of this mattered. But the idea of a baby…

  He needed air, time to think. “I have to go.”

  Trent stood and placed the photos back in the envelope. Slim, cold fingers wrapped around his.

  “Take them with you.”

  The confusion he suffered reflected in her expression, making him feel like a heel for rushing off, but the mass of tangled barbed wire in his brain required straightening without distraction.

  “Thanks.” He stared into her open, honest features. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

  She nodded, and he kissed her forehead. His lips lingered on the soft skin. Her body trembled, and he felt even more of an ass. She needed reassurance and understanding, but the words were struck in his throat. Placing his Stetson on his head, he headed out the door.

  Chapter Nine

  Trent rubbed his chest as an ache settled in the center. Disbelief and uncertainty over the information he discovered filled him.

  The facts Jordan presented didn’t change his future or hers, but if the baby lived, that would’ve been a different story. He’d have a daughter to care for, a start of a family. One without April. No way would he have exposed his baby girl to that bitch of a woman who hated children. His life would’ve evolved into something entirely different if his daughter had survived. If…

  The pain Jordan must have suffered carrying a life inside her only to have the infant ripped away in the end unmanned him. No one should have to endure that kind of heartache.

  The circumstances following their night together ended in tragedies for both of them, but more so for her. Yet, she managed to get through the trauma and proceed with her life, coming out on top. A true testament to her character and the woman she’d become.

  And here he sported a grudge over not being one hundred percent, refusing to listen to his family or the doctors in order for the injury to heal. Instead, he drove himself to prove he needed no one, while she retained not one person in her corner.

  What a bastard he’d been.

  Swinging open the barn door, he stormed to the back room where his father had hung a punching bag decades ago. He laid the precious envelop on the shelf with care, then slammed his fist into the object hanging from the ceiling. Chains creaked against the rafters as the sack sailed across the small room.

  Adrenaline pumped in his veins as he swung at the bag repeatedly, feeling a slight release of the tension in his muscles. His shoulder burned like hell, and he soon found himself drenched with sweat.

  Jordan would have been a great mother. Wasn’t fair the baby died. Continuing to pummel the bag, he beat out his anger and frustrations over the past, the pain suffered at the hands of others, at the hands of chance, and because there was not one damn thing he could do to change the outcome. That’s what bothered him most. He wanted to help her; to make things better for her as his family had him, to explore the unexplained connection he felt toward her. And how could he forget the intimacy factor. She went up in flames any time he kissed her, turning into a wanton woman. Her response alone swelled his ego.

  “That thing owe you money or steal your girl?” Sam caught the object as it sped toward him.

  Ignoring the comment, Trent bent over, hands on thighs, to catch his breath. Every time he turned around, one or more person from his family were there, waiting for him to need them.

  Because they care, he reminded himself.

  “I don’t think this is the kind of therapy your doctor prescribed.”

  Straightening, he met his brother’s watchful gaze. “Right now, it’s the kind I need.”

  A brow dipped over one eye. “I’d think the fight with Nick would’ve cured that.” Sam crossed the room until he stood boot to boot with Trent. “Damn it, kid, don’t you get it? We’re all tired of watching you wallow in self-pity. Don’t you think two years is long enough to let April win? You think you’re the only one in this world who’s had rough times? You know what, you wanna be pissed off the rest of your life, go for it.”

  Unsure how to take his brother’s outburst, Trent confiscated the envelope on the shelf. “You’re right.”

  “And don’t give me some bullshit about…what’d you say?”

  “You’re right.” Seeing his hat on the floor, he placed the Stetson on his head, and headed out of the room.

  His brother fell into step beside him. “That was too easy, and you’re the least agreeable person I know. What gives?”

  While he didn’t relish the idea of announcing the news to the entire clan, telling one member of the herd was a start. He handed over the packet.

  His older sibling raised a brow in question as he examined the contents and stopped walking. His confusion gave way to a frown.

  “Is that a baby?” Sam turned the picture different ways, then glanced from Trent to the picture and back. “You telling me you’re gonna be a daddy?”

  The impact of the words took his breath once again. The idea of Jordan carrying his baby scared the hell out of him, but knowing there was no baby only mildly overcame the initial fright. Now his chest just ached. He rubbed the spot in the center.

  “Who’s the mother?” he asked, sliding one photo behind the other.

  Trent pointed to the top where Jordan’s name was imbedded into the film.

  “Jordan? How? When?”

  He lifted a hand to silence the questions. “Those were taken eight months after Charlie’s graduation bonfire.”

  “Cripes, that was six years ago. Where’s the baby now?
I didn’t see a kid with her. Are you sure it’s yours?”

  A couple of horses ran in the pasture, catching his attention. With no easy way to explain, he looked back at his brother and blurted, “She was stillborn.”

  Sam’s mouth opened and shut several times. “Damn. That’s a hard one to swallow.”

  “Tell me ’bout it.” He rubbed the nape of his neck to ease the building tension.

  “These pictures—”

  “Are sonograms taken three weeks before she delivered.”

  “Talk about a major blow.” Sam shook his head.

  “Yep.” Unable to stay still any longer, he stuffed his hands into his front pockets and strutted off in the direction of the cabins.

  “What now?”

  “Damned if I know.” He walked along side his brother, feeling his support and worry hanging heavy in the silence as the pair made their way across the land. Support Jordan never had.

  “You going up to the main house for supper? Ms. Liz stored leftovers in the fridge.”

  Trent glanced over to where the rest of the family would surely be, and for the first time, noticed dusk had fallen. “I already ate.” Getting close to the house, he stopped walking.

  “From what I can see, this doesn’t alter your life.” Sam handed back the images.

  “Feels like it should.” His mom and dad raised their boys to be polite, use their manners, and own up to their responsibilities, but he wasn’t sure where that fit in with this scenario. He kicked a rock in the path with his boot and continued forward.

  “Definitely gives you two a connection, but one you’re not obligated to continue, or, if you decide, to explore.” His brother turned and headed up the stairs to the porch.

  He mulled over Sam’s last comment as he entered his cabin minutes later. Truth of the matter was, the more he entertained the thought, the more he liked the idea of being a dad, which shocked the hell out of him. Who was he kidding? The situation vanished before he even knew the position existed.