by Soraya Lane
He nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“Well, I don’t want your pity and I don’t want you to pretend like it doesn’t matter, so I think you should just go.”
He shuffled toward her, arms open. “Sarah, I know you’re hurt but—”
“But what, Nate? You want a family, and so do I, but we can’t ever have one together. Not like we always talked about, anyway. I’ve been with a man who said it was okay, and now look at him? Shacked up with another woman already and about to become a dad.” She took a big breath and let it out on a slow exhale. “You have no idea how he treated me when he found out, after we’d exhausted every option and I still couldn’t get pregnant. So I’d rather never put myself through that again.”
Now it was Nate who looked angry. “I’d never treat you the way Todd just did, never. You know that, Sarah, and if you don’t, then you don’t know me at all.”
“But?” she asked.
“What do you mean, but?”
Sarah touched his cheek before she walked away from him. “But you still want to be a dad, Nate. You might say no now, but I’ve seen the way you are with Brady. I know you, and you’re going to make someone a great husband and be a great father one day. Of your own biological children.”
He stared at her, his expression like carved stone.
“Maybe I was right, then. Maybe you don’t know me at all.” Nate gave her a look she’d never seen before—a sad, haunted expression that sent an icy blast through her body. Chilled her to the bone and made her wish she’d just kept her mouth shut.
And then he did exactly as she’d asked and walked out her door.
Sarah dropped to her knees and curled up beside her dog, the tears falling freely now. She could deal with her marriage being over, but she didn’t know if she’d ever cope with losing Nate. Not again.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
NATE was in a foul mood, but he didn’t want to take his anger out on anyone or anything. Which was why he was sitting on the sofa on an otherwise perfect afternoon, instead of riding or helping out on the ranch. He should have gone out and found Holt, but given his recent track record, he didn’t want to say something to his brother that he could regret later.
He was fuming about Sarah and trying not to think about her simultaneously, and it wasn’t working. He couldn’t give a crap about her not being able to have children, except for the fact that he hated how deeply she must have hurt when she’d found out. What he was furious about was her not telling him, not opening up to him. That he’d had to find out from Todd.
Nate looked up, stared at the kitchen, before rising. If he was going to sit around inside, he needed to do something productive, and he knew exactly what that something was. If Sarah had taught him one thing, it was that he needed to be honest, to deal with his emotions and not push people away. Well, there was one person he should be offering a helping hand to, and she deserved at least a phone call from him.
Nate strode across the room and pulled out the piece of paper. He reached for the phone and dialed the number, wishing he could stop his hand from shaking.
She answered almost immediately.
Nate swallowed and tried to push the memories away, tried to stop thinking about Jimmy and how he’d looked when he’d died. What it was like seeing his best friend lying with blood seeping from him.
No. He was stronger than that. He had to be.
“Lucy, it’s Nate. I’ve been meaning to call you for months now.”
The kind, gentle voice at the other end settled his nerves.
He wasn’t going to tell her the truth about how Jimmy’s life had ended, but he was going to tell her about how brave her husband had been leading up to that day, and why he’d been such a good friend when Nate had needed him most.
That he’d done his best to save Jimmy, to be there for him, and that Jimmy had had his back on every mission they’d been on. Not the last one, but in Nate’s books that didn’t count. Jimmy had been his best friend, and his best friend’s widow deserved to know just how damn special her husband had been.
* * *
Sarah walked slowly with her dog, as far away from the dwelling as possible. She didn’t even want to make eye contact with the guesthouse Nate was living in, and she sure as heck wasn’t going to look over at his tree. The one they’d sat under together so many times, and the place where she’d found him such a short time ago.
She missed him like hell already and she didn’t want to think about him.
“Come on, Moose,” she called.
Sarah came to the gate closest to where her horse was grazing and she let her dog through before doing the same. Then froze on the spot. From where she was standing she could see Johnny and Brady, and there was Nate. Playing with his nephew, touching his hand to his head, before mounting one of Johnny’s horses.
Where was he going?
Sarah stayed still, hoping Nate wouldn’t turn around and see her standing there, and he didn’t. As soon as he was out of eyesight she made her way over to Maddie and took hold of her halter, before leading her toward the far gate so she could get her gear and saddle up.
She bit her lip and kept walking, waving out to Johnny as he turned around. Just because things were through before they’d started with Nate didn’t mean she was going to stop riding. She loved the Calhoun family and Holt hadn’t seemed to mind her horse spending some time here over the summer, so that wasn’t going to change.
She had to forget Nate all over again, no matter how much it hurt. Her future wasn’t going to be what she’d hoped it would be, but she was going to do her best to move on. She owed it to herself, and she owed it to Nate to let him go.
* * *
Nate was starting to regret not bringing more clothing. Johnny had told him to watch the weather, and now after an hour of riding he wished he’d heeded his warnings. There was a storm brewing—he could feel it in his bones—and that meant he needed to get back fast. He might have been away from Texas for a few years, but he’d never forgotten the thunderstorms that could blast a tree in two, even in the middle of summer.
He’d taken the stirrups off completely today instead of crossing them over the pommel of his saddle or letting them swing free, and it had been the right decision. He was able to nudge the horse into a canter without worrying about them, and it made it easier on his leg. He could grip with his knees and not put any pressure on his lower leg, and so long as he could keep his balance he’d make it home, fast, before the worst of the storm hit.
As they settled into a steady rhythm the first raindrops fell, heavy plops that soaked straight through his shirt. Nate urged his horse on, forgetting everything other than the stretch and pull of the animal beneath him.
“Easy,” he called, one hand touching the horse’s neck as a low rumble of thunder sounded out.
She calmed for a moment and then pulled on his hands, fighting for her head. Then Nate saw what she was becoming so excited about. There was another horse in the distance, a rider in trouble. Nate didn’t ask his horse to go any faster, with no stirrups they were already cantering too fast, so he did his best to keep her steady and calm.
And then he recognized the horse and rider. It was Sarah, and she was only just managing to stay in the saddle. Shit. This was not good weather to take a freshly broken horse out in. What the hell did she think she was doing?
“Steady, girl,” he told his mount, “nice and steady.” He asked his horse to slow as they approached, sitting deeper in the saddle and being firmer with his hands. “Whoa.”
“Nate!” Sarah’s usually calm voice was ear-piercingly high.
“Stay calm,” he ordered, asking his horse to walk slowly toward Sarah and her nervous mount. “Get those shoulders back and tell her who’s boss.” He might be a fan of natural horsemanship, but the horse still had to know w
ho was in charge, and right now Sarah wasn’t doing a very good job of making that clear. They were flight animals; if she wasn’t assertive, the situation was going to get dangerous.
He neared the skittish horse and made a grab for the reins, trying to keep his balance. Damn it! If his leg wasn’t buggered he would have jumped off and taken hold of the young mare and settled her, instead of struggling to even keep control of his own horse. But then if he wasn’t injured, maybe he would never have come home.
“Hey, girl,” he said, pulling back hard to keep Sarah’s horse steady. “We’re okay.”
Another rumble of thunder followed by a crack of lightning made the horse’s eyes roll and Nate was finding it harder to stay in the saddle, especially with his own horse becoming jumpy.
“Sarah, you okay?”
He glanced at her quickly, saw the terror in her face, how white her cheeks were.
“Don’t let go, Nate.”
“Come on,” he said firmly. “We need to either get back right now or unsaddle the horses and let them go. It’s your call.” He hoped she agreed on the first option, but he’d do whatever she was most comfortable with. If she was that frozen with fear, riding back might not even be an option. “Sarah?”
“Let’s go,” she agreed.
Nate took control, not wanting to take any risks, not where Sarah was concerned. “Let’s start at the walk. If we can keep them calm enough, we’ll trot back.”
Sarah nodded and he saw the determined look in her eyes that had been missing before. The glint that he usually associated with her attitude to everything she did, her confidence returning.
Sarah’s horse jig-jogged, nervous as hell, but she stuck to his mount like glue, not wanting to break away on her own. “We’re going to be fine,” he called to her, raising his voice over the now-insistent drops of rain and rumblings of the fast-approaching storm. “She’s not going to break away from my horse and I think we need to speed things up.” At this rate, Nate knew they didn’t have a chance at making it back to the house or stables. But there was a barn they could get to, where they’d all be safe, so long as lightning didn’t strike too close.
“You okay trotting?” she asked.
Nate gritted his teeth together as they broke into a fast trot. Given the fact he had no stirrups, bouncing along wasn’t exactly his favorite gait. “How about we canter?”
He could see her confidence had returned, at least temporarily. “I’ll give it a go.”
The horses were jumpy but they rode side by side, the rain starting to pelt down and soak through his shirt. Nate saw the barn he’d had in mind, somewhere they usually stored hay at the end of each season if they had need to, and one he hoped was empty. He pointed to Sarah, his eyes blurry from rain as he gestured where they were heading. They both slowed to a trot, then a walk, pulling up outside it. They never would have made it back to the stables or close to the house.
“Let’s dismount and lead them in. There’s a few old wooden gates in there and a center divide, so if you’re okay holding them I’ll erect a makeshift stall for the pair of them,” he called out to Sarah, stretching his legs and rotating his ankle before swinging his leg over his horse and landing with a thud on the wet earth below.
Son of a... Nate swallowed the curses ready to burst from his mouth. Damn it if his leg didn’t hurt like hell, but he had a task to do and no time to fool around. Sarah was already on the ground, watching him, her eyes asking questions even though she didn’t actually say a thing.
“Here,” he said, passing her the reins. “I’ll make it quick.” Nate wanted to get out of the rain but he also wanted to get Sarah out of harm’s way, and he wasn’t convinced she’d be able to keep hold of both horses, who were leaping around like a pair of idiots, if the storm came so much as an inch closer.
Nate limped into the open barn, grabbing an old ball of string and dragging two of the old gates leaning against one of the walls. He tied them together and hauled a few of last season’s bales of hay over, too. “Bring them in,” he called out.
Sarah started toward him but lightning cracked close by, making her horse rear up in fright. Nate made it to her just in time, grabbing her horse. “Whoa, girl, let’s get inside.” His voice was firm and so was his hold as he led her in. Sarah brought his horse in and he passed her the reins again, before hauling the hay bales into the gap and building them up.
“Shall we take their bridles off?” Sarah asked, her voice shaky.
Nate gave her what he hoped was a confident smile. “Nope. Let’s put the reins back over their heads and knot them. That way if they get away they won’t break their necks tripping over them, and we can still get hold of them quick if we need to.”
* * *
Sarah climbed over the gates with a hand from Nate once they’d settled the horses as much as they could. He’d passed some decent-looking hay over, which was keeping them happy for now, even if they were still understandably frightened.
She went to let go of Nate’s hand, then grabbed it again, her legs wobbly. She could have been badly injured out there, could have had a bad fall and been left out in the storm for hours or even longer before anyone found her. She’d been trying to avoid Nate and somehow he’d ended up saving her.
“I should never have ridden out in that weather. Johnny warned me, but all I could think about was needing to get up in the saddle and clear my head,” she admitted to Nate. “I’m not usually one to take risks, but...” She didn’t even know what to say. Thank goodness she’d left Moose behind to play with Brady; the last thing she’d have needed was him to worry about, as well.
He put an arm around her, but she could tell from the awkward angle he was on that something was wrong. “You’re okay now, so don’t even think about it. Maybe we should both listen to Johnny more often, though—sounds like he has better brains than the pair of us combined.”
“Nate?”
He looked at her. They’d both stopped walking.
“Your leg’s bugging you, isn’t it?” she asked.
Nate steered her toward some hay bales and sat down, his leg stretched out in front of him. “Bugging me would be an understatement,” he admitted. “Hurting me like someone’s stabbing me over and over in the calf might be a better description.”
Her shocked expression as she sat down beside him made him laugh.
“Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have been quite so honest. I’m fine, Sarah, please don’t worry about me.”
She shook her head, slowly, before tucking her knees up and wrapping her arms around her legs. Now that they were sitting, the adrenaline rush of riding and securing the horses over, she’d realized how cold she was. Her shirt and jeans were sodden, completely soaked through, and it was taking an effort to stop her teeth from chattering. The last thing she needed was to be miserable and get sick, too.
“Great summer weather, huh?” Nate asked.
She nodded. “Yeah.”
They sat there, not saying anything, the only noise the pounding tap on the roof as the rain fell furiously, the storm surrounding them. Sarah stared into the torrential rain, watched the jagged lightning in the sky as it lit everything around it.
“Come here.” The softness of Nate’s voice made her look up. “I’d come to you but...” He pointed at his leg. “It might be easier for you to come to me.”
Sarah wanted to resist, didn’t want to be close to Nate, to remind herself of what she was missing out on. But she couldn’t.
Sarah stood and crossed the distance between them, sitting down beside him. Nate’s arm automatically went around her, pulling her tight against his body. Letting her steal some of his warmth, even though he was as wet as she was.
“You’re freezing,” he said, sitting up more and putting his other arm around her to try to warm her up.
Sarah wasn’t goi
ng to deny how cold she was, especially with the heat coming off Nate. She had no idea how he could still be so warm given the storm they’d both been stuck out in.
“Why aren’t you freezing, too?”
He chuckled. “I am, but I’m kind of used to extreme temperatures. I’ve been trained for years to cope with this sort of situation, and I’ve seen a lot worse. Sometimes heat is worse than the cold.”
“Nate?” she asked, burying her face against his shoulder, not strong enough to pull herself away from him. She should have stayed on the other side of the barn, but there wasn’t a chance she was going back there now.
“Yeah?” His mouth was touching the top of her head, her hair.
“I’m sorry about your friend, and about your leg, too. I wish things were different for you.” She didn’t know why, but telling him how she felt, what she’d been wanting to say to him and not known how to, seemed to take a weight off her shoulders.
Nate grunted, half chuckle, half throat-clear. “Me, too.” He hugged her closer and she held on tight. “And I’m sorry about the whole baby thing, as well.” Nate’s voice was low and husky, like he hadn’t known what to say or whether to mention it.
“Me, too,” she said, listening to the steady beat of his heart through his wet shirt, enjoying the constant rhythm against her ear. “Me, too.” She’d had a while to come to terms with it now, but the reality that she’d never be able to have a baby with a man she loved one day still hurt sometimes.
Nate let go of her with one arm and started to stroke her hair. She shut her eyes and leaned into him, craving him more than she’d ever like to admit, even to herself.
“Sarah, just because you can’t have children doesn’t mean you can’t be a mom,” he said. She squeezed her eyes shut even tighter. “You could easily adopt one day. Don’t give up on your dreams just because the journey’s too hard—there are plenty of kids out there in the world in need of a great mom. If it’s what you want, I know you can make it happen.”
