by Erin Wright
Did things to her.
Ugh.
She sounded like she was seventeen all over again.
“So how did your day go?” she asked him as they began cleaning up, leading the horses back to their stalls, putting the brushes and feed away.
“Real good. I…” He paused for a moment. “I don’t know if I’m about to break a million rules by asking you this, but do you know the story behind Juan? I only know he’s in the foster system, but I haven’t wanted to ask him why. It just seemed too probing a question to ask a nine-year-old boy.”
She nodded slowly as she put the lid back onto the mouse-proof barrels, protecting the oats inside. “I don’t know much, other than we arrested both his parents about six months ago. That’s a matter of public record – you could find it out if you went and dug up the info in the newspaper. So I’ll save you the work and just tell you that his parents were into some bad shit. They were bringing up under-aged girls from Mexico, promising them a new life in the US, and because they were also Mexican, these girls were trusting. And desperate. Then when the girls got here, they were sold. I’m guessing you can imagine what for.”
Wyatt’s eyes went dark with anger. “Oh Lordy,” he whispered.
“Yeah. Even here in Long Valley, we’re not exempt from that sort of thing. It’s enough to make you sick.”
They waved goodbye to Adam who was putting the last of the supplies away for the day, and stepped outside into the weak winter light. The sun was setting; it would be dark soon, and even colder.
“Was Juan a part of any of it, do you know? Did he know what his parents were doing?”
Abby shook her head. “No, not as far as we can tell. They’d drop him off at friends’ houses while they did a run. They chose Long Valley because it’s so far removed from everywhere; they thought they could fly under the radar. They don’t have any family in the US, but thank God they didn’t think they ought to bring a small child along for that sort of thing. I don’t know if Juan knows even to this day or not.”
They slowly walked to Abby’s car and she leaned against it, staring out across the frozen fields to the mountains, white with snow and ice, dusky purple around the edges from the setting sun.
“I’m glad Adam is doing this therapy camp,” Wyatt said quietly. “Kids like that need someone to give them love and attention and let them know that they matter.”
Abby’s gaze met his. “There are a lot of kids out there who need that. I know better than most that you’re here because you’ve been court-ordered to do so, but it’s still a good cause, nonetheless. I’m glad you picked it.”
“Me too,” he said simply.
And then they were just staring at each other and it didn’t matter that the cold air was seeping in around the edges of her coat and that her nose was frozen solid and she wasn’t sure if she was ever going to be able to feel her toes again. She felt excitement and lust and electricity building up inside of her and her breathing grew shallow and they began leaning, moving, shifting towards each other.
She shouldn’t. She really, really, really shouldn’t.
And yet, she couldn’t stop herself.
Their lips touched, cool and soft and the sparks went shooting through her body and her breath hitched, a shiver running through her. She put her hands up on his broad shoulders, slowly, tentatively. Through her gloves and his winter jacket, she couldn’t feel a thing, but still…she was touching him.
His hands settled on her waist and he pulled her forward against him, nestling her between his legs as his hands began stroking up and down her back. Her blood was roaring in her ears and her heart was going a million miles an hour and his tongue, oh his talented tongue was working its way between her lips, exploring, loving…
He pulled back slowly, ever so slowly, and at first she followed him, unwilling to give him up, but finally, she settled back down to the ground and opened up her eyes with a satisfied sigh. He stroked her cheek softly with the pad of his thumb, and she gave him a happy smile.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” he said softly.
“I just may have wanted you to do that for a long time,” she replied.
He nestled her against him, his arms wrapped around her, holding her tight, as she snuggled her face against his chest. It was cold and she should want to get into her car and turn on the heater, but she wanted to be snuggled against Wyatt more. Ignore the world for just a few moments.
“Sierra would’ve loved this camp,” Wyatt said, out of the blue. “She got horse fever so young; I’m not kidding you – it was her second word. Right after ‘nana’ which meant ‘banana.’ She didn’t learn Mom or Dad for quite a while, which just shows you where her priorities were.”
Abby felt the happiness inside of her slowly leak away, like a balloon with a pin-sized hole in it.
Sierra.
Wyatt’s baby girl who died when she was only five. The daughter he misses so much, he wants more children more than anything else in the world.
She felt the panic begin to grow in the pit of her stomach and spread up and out. She had to go. She had to go right then. She had to leave.
“Igottagohome,” she said in a burst, whirled out of his arms, and slipped into her car, starting it and throwing it into gear before taking off down the long, rutted dirt road back to the county road into town.
She was an idiot. A first-class dumbass.
But even now, she couldn’t quite make herself regret that kiss.
Chapter 27
Wyatt
The next morning found Wyatt in the shop, working on random shit. He was mostly cleaning up. Months of neglect meant a whole lot of spider webs, and he didn’t really have the concentration to do anything too strenuous, anyway.
The only thing his brain wanted to focus on was that kiss.
Well, and her reaction afterward. Why did she take off like that? Was he scaring her by wanting too much too quickly?
He mindlessly shoved wrenches and screwdrivers into the drawers of his toolbox as he replayed the conversation in his head. He had no idea what caused her to bolt like that. She knew he had a daughter. She knew Sierra had died in that car wreck at the hands of that bastard who couldn’t figure out when enough was enough.
So why that reaction?
He broke from his memories long enough to notice that he’d cleared the entire workbench. It looked…nice. It wouldn’t stay looking like this come spring, but for the moment, he took pride in how uncluttered it was.
Huh. Uncluttered, but damn dusty. He looked around for the broom and finally spotted it in the corner.
“Some cleaning tool you are,” he said out loud to himself as he crossed the shop. “You have more dust on you than the damn floor.” Oh well. It wasn’t like he was going to be able to make his shop spic-and-span. Less dirt on the floor overall was a win.
He’d just made the first couple of pushes of the broom when he heard the crunching of tires on the snow-covered gravel drive outside.
His head spun and his heart jumped a little. He had very few visitors out to his place, and even less after he’d been locked up for so long, which meant that the chances were real high that it was Abby out there. His heart went into double-time.
He had to play it cool. Damn, was he sixteen again?
The gravel gave a tortured crunch as the vehicle came to a stop by the house. He debated going out and flagging her down.
No, no. He kept sweeping the floor. A guy didn’t want to seem too eager.
He pushed the broom a couple more times mindlessly and then began to wonder if she’d think to come over to the shop to look for him. Maybe he should go out and flag her down after all.
He leaned the broom back in the corner where he’d found it and was just about to head outside when he heard the vehicle restart and crunch its way over to the shop.
The car door opened and closed, and then the shop door swung open. He opened his mouth to say hi when he heard, “What’re you doing h
iding in here?”
The person was framed by the light coming in from outside, and it didn’t look a damn thing like Abby’s curves. And then there was also the fact that he’d recognize Stetson’s voice anywhere.
Dammit.
“I hadn’t had a chance to clean since I got out, so I thought I’d give it a little attention.” There was an edge to Wyatt’s tone that he really didn’t like, but couldn’t seem to stop from appearing. Even when he was trying to be nice to Stetson, his body just seemed to be allergic to the idea.
“Not much going on around the farm?” Stetson asked.
“Not during the winter,” he got out. Yup, that was definitely snappier than he’d meant for it to be. But truly, Stetson should know that not much farming was done during the winter. It was kinda a dumbass comment to make.
Tension filled the shop as they just stared at each other. Finally, Stetson lifted his hat and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.
“So I don’t know if you can or if you want to, but Jennifer and I are hosting a gender announcement party for the baby in a couple of weeks. Jennifer wanted me to ask you to come. If you can.”
The last line came out harder than Wyatt thought it needed to, but he took a deep breath. I guess I deserve a little backlash. Even if I don’t like it.
“That’d be nice. My probation allows me to leave the farm, so I can’t imagine why I couldn’t make it over,” he said slowly. “How’s Jennifer doing?”
“She’s doing pretty good,” Stetson said, a smile starting to form. Finally, a topic he was happy to discuss. “She knows what we’re having and has been a pest with all of her teasing.”
“You didn’t ask her what it was?” Wyatt was confused.
“Nope. I wanted to be surprised along with everyone else.” Stetson grinned, the first genuine smile he’d sent Wyatt’s way in…well, way too long.
“That’s good to hear,” Wyatt said. And it was. He wasn’t sure what else to say, though. Conversations had never flowed easily between them. Punches? Yes. Honest-to-God conversations? Not so much. “Uhhh…thanks for the invitation.”
“Sure,” Stetson said as he turned back toward the door.
Wyatt watched his retreating back for a few steps.
“Hey,” he called out, stopping Stetson in his tracks. “Declan said you helped keep things going around here during harvest time. I’m sure that wasn’t easy, especially while getting married, too, and dealing with your own harvest.”
Stetson turned and stared at him. The muscle in his jaw jumped as he prepared himself for whatever he expected Wyatt to say or do next.
“I just wanted to say thank you,” Wyatt finished.
Stetson’s eyebrows practically hit his hairline and he continued to stare at Wyatt, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. When Wyatt didn’t say anything else, he finally just nodded, mumbled something about it being no problem, and headed out the door.
Wyatt heaved a sigh when the door closed behind his youngest brother. Every conversation with him was a field of landmines. He never knew if he was going to step in it and blow things to kingdom come again or not.
On the other hand, they’d just managed to have a whole conversation without any punching or yelling, and that had to be some sort of record. Oh, and a genuine smile from Stetson. That was a record.
Wyatt’s happiness was short-lived, though, as he began to ruminate over the choices Stetson had made in his life.
As usual, when Stetson had screwed up, he’d been saved by someone else – this time, the saving came in the form of a gorgeous banker. Only Stetson would be lucky enough to be sent a beautiful, young, single banker who was smart enough to push him to sell off his wheat and save his farm. The Miller Family Farm that had been in the Miller family for five generations.
It only took Stetson one damn year to put it at risk of ending up on the auction block.
Wyatt began coughing up a storm and realized that he’d begun swinging the broom recklessly, throwing more dirt into the air than into the dirt pile.
Being upset about everything that Stetson gets handed to him doesn’t help you or hurt him. He doesn’t know you feel that way, so it really doesn’t matter to him. All it does is hurt you and keep you from focusing on what you can change.
The discussion he and Rhonda had had at his last appointment rang in his ears. He hated to admit that she was right, because it all just sounded so mumbo-jumbo to him – forgive Stetson and move on. Shouldn’t Stetson have to pay for being a little shithead his entire life?
But as he coughed and sneezed, leaning on the broom handle to keep himself upright, he knew the counselor was right. Stetson didn’t know and probably didn’t care that Wyatt was angry that he got everything in life that he wanted, including a little baby to call his own. He didn’t have everything taken away from him in an instant like Wyatt had.
And sure, maybe it’d be better for all involved if Wyatt just let it go. But as he began sweeping, a little less emphatically this time, he couldn’t help thinking that that was easier said than done.
Chapter 28
Abby
Abby pulled up in front of Wyatt’s home. Her family’s home, before the bank took it all away.
It was still weird to see it a sage green, so different from the white her mom had liked. She knew that time went on, and Shelly, Wyatt’s wife, had had every right to paint her house whatever color she wanted.
It still seemed a little sacrilegious to Abby, but then again, her and Dad had basically turned everything her mom ever touched into a shrine. And maybe that wasn’t healthy either.
She looked over at the tire swing hanging from the oak tree’s branches, swaying slightly in the cold winter winds. Abby had spent so many summer days on that tire swing, stretching her legs up to the sky, just sure that if she pumped her legs hard enough, she’d be able to flip all the way over the top of the branch and down the other side.
Okay. Enough stalling.
It was time to get out and talk to Wyatt. With a deep breath, she got out into the cold air, bracing herself against the wind, and hurried up to the front porch. She knocked lightly and then huddled against the door, her eyes automatically picking out the changes to her childhood home. They’d replaced the street numbers with fancier, more expensive metal numbers and the mailbox was—
The door opened. “Oh, hey,” Wyatt said, the surprise evident on his face. “Come in.”
He mumbled something about two visitors in one day, but when she said, “What?” he waved the question away.
“What’s going on? Is everything okay?” he asked, a panicked note in his voice.
It took her a moment but she finally put the pieces together of why he sounded panicked. Of course. The last time a county police officer showed up at his door, his wife and child were dead on the side of the road. Even though she was off-duty, he had no way of knowing that. She was still in her deputy uniform.
“No, everything is fine,” she said. “I came over straight from work – I’m not even on the clock right now.”
“Oh. Good.” His face relaxed into a full smile. “You want something to drink? I have water, lemonade, coffee, probably a soda or two…”
“No, no. Listen, I need to tell you something.” She drew in a breath, one that she could feel all the way to her toes. “I need to tell you…I can’t have kids.” The words were the barest of a whisper, barely audible above the sound of the central heating system pumping out warm air, but they might as well have been shouted in the middle of town square. They landed like a bomb between them, separating them forever. A chasm that could never be crossed.
“What?” he breathed, staring at her.
“When I was a kid…I fell off the merry-go-round, right onto someone’s bike. The pedals…” She made a gesture towards her stomach. “They had to do emergency surgery on me to patch everything back up, but the doctors said that the damage to my uterus was too great. I would never be able to have kids. I went to an OB-GY
N about a year ago just to make sure, and they ran all sorts of tests on me. There’s just not enough room for a baby, after they took out the damaged tissue.”
She held her breath and just stared at him. It was damn awkward, bringing this up with him. It wasn’t like they were really even dating, right? They’d just kissed that one time.
But if what he was feeling on his end was anywhere close to what she was feeling on her end…she had to tell him. He had to know before this went any further. Because if her gut was right, he wouldn’t want it to go any further.
Yup, he’d shut down. His face, open and happy and welcoming, had become a brick wall of…nothingness. He shoved his hands out towards her, fists facing her. “See any blood on my knuckles?” he rasped.
Startled, she look down and stared at his knuckles. “Nooo…”
“Then you can report back to your father that I haven’t been beating anyone up lately. Now get the hell out of my house.”
She jerked her head back, her eyes spiking with hot, painful tears. She didn’t say anything. Couldn’t say anything. She spun around and felt blindly for the doorknob, yanking the door open and stumbling out into the cold winter air, burning in her lungs and she was running, stumbling, towards her cruiser, crawling inside, shoving the key into the ignition and pulling away, the tears running unchecked down her cheeks.
Chapter 29
Wyatt
He was a class-A asshole.
He knew it, Stetson knew it, hell, Declan probably knew it and was just too nice to say so.
And now Abby knew it.
Oh, she probably had her inklings, considering the fact that he’d once punched her father and laid him out flat on the ground, and because he’d spent seven weeks in her close company because of charges of assault and battery.
But somehow, she’d overlooked all of that. Somehow, she hadn’t seemed to notice, or at least hold it against him.
