Wild Hearts

by Jessica Burkhart

  Logan had worked out a deal with his dad to reduce his shifts in the field and make them up later. For now, he wanted to spend every free second with me.

  Mom and Dad were away—gone to Cali to scout out the best neighborhoods—and they were due back tomorrow morning. It was a Friday night, so most of the town was at the movies or bars. But Logan and I were at my empty house. A U-Haul sat mostly packed in the driveway. Dad hadn’t hitched it to the SUV yet.

  We were leaving on Sunday morning.

  Logan was in the kitchen, making us turkey Stroganoff for dinner. We’d rented the latest DVD volume in an action series that we both liked.

  “It’s ready,” he called from the kitchen. It felt like a date. A normal date. Not at all what it really was—our last night together.

  “Smells great,” I said.

  “You’d better say that,” he mocked. “It took me five whole minutes to stir this and twenty minutes of waiting.”

  We ate at the kitchen table and, after we had finished, Logan put the plates in the dishwasher. I flicked on the TV and put in the movie. Logan covered me with one of our throw blankets. We cozied up together on the couch and put our socked feet on the ottoman. We watched the movie and I hid behind Logan during the bloodiest parts. Violence and gore—not my thing. But watching the lead actor was so worth it. We didn’t talk. We just enjoyed the movie.

  “Want popcorn?” Logan asked, getting off the couch and stretching.

  “Ugh,” I groaned. “Too full.”

  “You, too full?” Logan teased. He plopped back down on the couch. “Since when, Miss-I-Can-Eat-Three-Hot-Dogs for lunch?”

  “Logan!” I shoved him and tried not to laugh. “So what.” I sniffed, pretending to be offended. “I like hot dogs.”

  I stretched out onto the couch and put a pillow behind my head. Logan shifted so my legs were in his lap. “I like you,” he said softly.

  “Come here,” he said, pulling me into a sitting position and getting up and standing behind me, rubbing my neck.

  “Thank you,” I said. “Want to go upstairs and just—?”

  “Let’s go,” Logan interrupted.

  He scooped me into his arms, carrying me through the living room. Giggling, I wrapped an arm around his neck.

  “Is this really necessary? My legs do work.”

  “Shh,” he said, laughing. “I’m trying to be chivalrous. Just let me carry you up the stairs.”

  I buried my nose into his neck and let myself sink into his arms. He smelled like sweet hay, soap, and cinnamon. He carried me through my bedroom doorway and I flicked on the light. My room was mostly empty, with only a few boxes against the wall and some clothes hanging in the closet. Logan put me down by my bed.

  “Can you lock the balcony door and close the blinds?” I asked. “I’m being way, way over-cautious but if my parents showed up and saw us lying on my bed together—even with all our clothes on—they would freak.”

  While he did that, I rummaged through one of the last boxes in my room and found my container of candles. Vanilla and peach seemed like safe choices—nothing too girly—so I put those on the bare table beside my bed and lit them.

  Logan turned off the lights and together we eased down onto my bed. Logan’s arms wrapped around me and I snuggled into him. A memory of the first time that we had spoken flashed before my eyes. My body trembled as I held back a sob.

  “What’s wrong?” Logan asked, squeezing me tighter.

  “Nothing,” I said, blinking and glad I was facing away from him. “It’s just . . . this is the last time we’ll get to be together.”

  “Don’t think about it like that,” Logan said. He brushed my hair off my face. “It’s not going to be the last time we ever see each other. Or the last time we’ll ever get time to ourselves like this. I promise.”

  I sat up and scooted around to face him. He sat up, too, looking into my eyes. “What are we going to do? Do we break up?” I paused. “Or try long-distance?”

  If he said he wanted to break up, it would kill me. But most of all, I cared about his happiness. So I had to ask that question.

  “Break up?” Logan shook his head. “No, we have to try, Brie. We can do long-distance.”

  That made me smile. “True. You sure you want to? I mean, you might want to date another girl. One you can actually—” I stopped.

  Logan rubbed his hand up and down my arm. “I want to be with you. No one else. We’ll do whatever it takes to make this work.”

  It wasn’t long before Logan had coaxed me back into his arms. Shadows from the candles danced on my walls, and soon I drifted off to sleep.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Where the road ends, the trail begins.

  In a weird way, I was relieved Sunday morning finally came. Yesterday, Logan had helped me pack the last of my boxes and then I’d spent the rest of the day with Amy. We said good-bye last night, since she knew I only had a few minutes to see Logan this morning.

  “I’m going to miss you so much,” Amy had said, hugging me.

  “Me, too! But we’ve got webcams and we’ll text all the time,” I said.

  We let go and I looked around her room. Posters of Nashville, Atlanta, and Houston covered her walls.

  Amy grinned. “Definitely. And here.” She reached for her Watson’s uniform and took off two buttons. She pinned them on my shirt. “The horse to remind you of Frogger and the horseshoe for good luck.”

  “Amy!” I hugged her again. “Thanks.”

  Turning, I rummaged in my purse and pulled out a large bubble-wrapped rectangle. “Here. For you. You did so much for me—helping Logan with the horses and designing our website. It’s a little thank-you.”

  Amy squinted and carefully unwrapped the package. She pulled out a black picture frame and gasped.

  “Oh, my God.” She ran her fingers over the glass. Inside was a “window to the South” painting I’d bought in Pensacola. The painting had different squares, or windows, for the southern states. Each state had its name hidden somewhere in the window and there was a recognizable icon for each. Florida’s square had a white sand beach and clear waves, Texas had the Alamo, Mississippi had a river barge, and Tennessee had a guitar.

  “You like it?”

  Amy sat on the end of her bed, holding the painting. “It’s perfect,” she whispered. “It’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. Thank you so much. I don’t want you to leave!”

  Amy and I both started to cry, and soon we were sitting beside each other on her bed, trying to stop our mascara from running.

  “Will you help Logan with the horses?” I said, sniffing and wiping a pink tissue under my eyes.

  “I promise,” Amy said, nodding at me. “I’ll help him every day when I’m not working. I’ll be there when school starts, too.” We’d hugged and chatted for a few more minutes before I’d left.

  Now I carried the final armful of boxes from my room and set them outside by the U-Haul.

  “This it, hon?” Dad asked as he took the boxes and expertly fit them into the trailer. It was barely nine and Dad and Mom had been up for hours loading the rest of our things. They’d double-checked that the electricity was shut off and the post office was forwarding our mail.

  “Yeah, that’s it.” I stepped back from the truck and folded my arms across my chest as I looked around the lawn and driveway. Logan still wasn’t here yet. He was supposed to come any minute and say good-bye. I probably looked like a mess. My hair was in a tangled ponytail and I’d barely slept last night. I’d spent most of the night wrapped on my balcony, lights off in my room and just thinking in the dark.

  Mom came up behind me and settled an arm on my shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. You know that.”

  I kept staring ahead. She’d be right eventually, but in this moment, I could barely believe her. “Yeah.”

  She sighed and left me, jogging over to help Dad fold up the trailer ramp.

  Yesterday, Dad had taken Mom and me to see the finishe
d site. The steel-and-concrete hotel had been erected, a parking lot was getting lines painted on it, and crews were finishing their installation of the windows. The bumpy road to the job site had been repaved and, according to Dad, it was one of his best jobs—well under budget and in good time.

  In the distance, two horses and a rider came into view. Logan trotted LG up the driveway and led Frogger on a lead line beside him. The colt trotted placidly beside the older horse and Logan pulled them to a stop beside me. He dismounted and handed me Frogger’s lead line.

  “Hey,” he said softly. “You want me to go so you can say good-bye to him?”

  That was the last thing I wanted. “No. Stay.” I put an arm around the colt and he huffed into my hand and sniffed my hair. “Frogger, you flirt,” I teased.

  “He’s a great colt,” Logan said. “He’s going to be fine.” Logan ran his hand over Frogger’s shoulder. The colt turned, bumping Logan with his muzzle, and snorted. “I’m going to start his training today and when you come back, he’ll be ready for you to ride, and finish training him yourself.”

  “I’m glad you’re keeping him. But I don’t know when I’m coming back. It’s far and there’s no way Mom or Dad will let me come here by myself.”

  I hugged Frogger and his chin whiskers tickled my neck. He was tall and muscular. His oversize ears made me love him more.

  Logan frowned. “Really?” He turned and rummaged in his horse’s saddle pack. “Then why did they get you this?” He pushed an envelope into my hand.

  I tore it open. Delta Airlines. Carter, Brie. 26 December. It was a ticket from San Diego to Casper, Wyoming—a nearby city with an airport. “How did you—” I was so stunned I couldn’t finish the question. My fingers shook and for a second, I thought I’d rip the ticket!

  “I talked to your dad a couple of days ago,” Logan said, grinning. “I reminded him we were having our first adoption event in the summer and we needed you to help with early planning.

  “Oh, wait,” Logan said, frowning. “Sorry, I mixed these things up.” He winked at me.

  He pulled out two more envelopes and dangled them in front of me.

  I grabbed one. Continental Airlines. Carter, Brie. 15 April.

  “That’s when you’re coming back to help plan the event,” Logan said. “Hope you don’t mind working over spring break.”

  “Oh, my God,” I said. “I can’t even believe this. Christmas break with you and spring break? If this is a joke, I’m going to lose it!”

  “It’s no joke,” Logan said. “I promise. And don’t forget about this one.”

  I tore it from his hands. Continental Airlines. Carter, Brie. 2 June.

  “I’ll be here for the adoption event?” I asked, my hands shaking. Frogger nosed my ticket and I hugged his neck.

  “Not just for the event, but for a couple of months this summer.”

  I froze. “What? How? You’re kidding.”

  Logan grinned. “Thank Pam for this one. She called your dad, said you could stay with her, and she promised to keep an eye on you.”

  “Oh, my God!” I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him. I let him go. “Be right back.”

  I darted off to find Mom and Dad. They were in the kitchen, both sipping steaming coffee in paper cups.

  “Thankyouthankyou!” I said. I tried to grab both of them for a giant hug.

  “You deserve it, sweetie,” Mom said, squeezing me. She let go and I looked at Dad.

  “Your mom is right,” Dad said. “You went through a lot this summer. Brie, you matured so much. We know we can trust you to be responsible while you’re here.”

  “Thank you, Dad.” Dad pulled me in for a hug and I held on to him for a few seconds.

  I left Mom and Dad in the kitchen, promising that I was almost done talking to Logan.

  “So,” I said, walking toward him, LG, and Frogger. “I guess I could come. But only if you promise me something.”

  “Anything.” He held my hand that wasn’t still holding the tickets.

  “Be careful while I’m gone. And tell Holden I’ll see him soon.”

  Saying good-bye to Holden had been a little tricky. I hadn’t wanted Holden to think I was abandoning him. Logan, Jack, and I had told him together about my move and we made it clear I would be coming back.

  Logan nodded. “Promise.” The tickets in my hand didn’t make this any easier, but it gave me something to hope for and look forward to. This wasn’t a good-bye—it was a see you later. And for once, those weren’t just words.

  “Brie.” Dad’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “We’ll be heading out in five. Okay?”

  I wasn’t going to argue. Not with the golden tickets in my hand. Mom and Dad weren’t going to get one reason not to let me come back. They were asking me to trust them and take another Carter-Brooks family adventure.

  With these plane tickets, I’d actually get to come back. And that made moving forward a lot less painful.

  I nodded and Dad moved away to get into the SUV. “You’d better have Frogger waiting for me after Christmas,” I said to Logan.

  Logan grinned and showed the dimples I’d first seen at WyGas all those months ago. “Oh, I will. I’ll send you videos of his training so you can see for yourself.”

  “Okay.” I kissed him hard and he put his warm hands on the sides of my face. When we pulled apart, I pressed my body to his and hugged him, trying to take in everything. The way his hair curled around his ears, how strong his chest felt against mine, and the way his shirt smelled like cinnamon.

  “I love you,” I said softly.

  “I love you.” He looked me in the eyes and kissed me again.

  “Wait a sec,” I said, letting go of his hand and running up to the porch. I grabbed a blue box with white ribbon and handed it to him. “Here. For you.”

  Logan took the lid off the box and peered inside. A photo that Amy had snapped of us talking by the hot tub was the first thing he saw. I was in a bikini and sitting next to Logan as he sipped lemonade. He flipped through the photos and found some of us on our camping trip. In one, he was fishing in the creek and another was of me holding my phone in front of us while we sat by the campfire.

  He’d taken one of me cooking in the kitchen—just before I burned the dinner rolls. My favorite one was of us sitting on the balcony with the sun setting behind us. Logan had an arm around me and our backs were to the camera. Mom had taken it without even telling me. She’d given me the photo last week when she’d realized I was making this gift for Logan. There were pictures of Frogger and the other horses and a photo of Pam with her arm around Logan at the fundraiser.

  “It’s amazing, Brie,” Logan said finally. He carefully put the lid on the box and shook his head.

  “There’s one more,” I said, running back to the porch to pick up the second large box I had stashed there.

  “Brie,” Logan said. He shook his head as I presented him with the box. “You didn’t need to—”

  “Stop arguing and open it,” I said. “I know my wrapping skills suck. But there is a bow.”

  Logan laughed. He opened the lid and pushed aside some white tissue paper.

  I watched his head jerk back a fraction. His eyes flickered from me to the box.

  “You probably thought,” I said, tears now forming and dripping onto my cheeks, “that I wasn’t listening to you that very first time you took me to Pam’s shop.” I smiled and let the tears flow. “I remember every second of that day we spent together. I didn’t forget what you told me about tan hats and black hats.”

  I reached up and took off his tan hat. I put it down beside me and stuck my hands into the box. I lifted a shaped black hat out and placed it on Logan’s head.

  My eyes met his and he swallowed.

  “You are important, Logan. You’re in charge of a rescued herd of mustangs. You deserve a black hat.”

  I picked his tan hat up and held it to my chest. “This goes with me.”

  Logan looked at me. He op
ened and closed his mouth. I watched him fight back tears.

  “I love you,” he said. “I feel like somebody because of you.”

  “I love you,” I said. “And you were already somebody, Logan. You just needed someone to tell you.”

  The Explorer, with the small U-Haul attached, roared to a start and I handed Frogger’s lead line to Logan.

  “You’ll be back so soon,” he said. He smiled. “We’ll make it.”

  “I know.” I hugged him again and kissed him quickly before turning away and forcing myself to get into the car. I looked back after I’d settled into the seat, but Logan and Frogger were gone.

  Dad put the Explorer into gear and eased it slowly down the driveway. I rolled down the window and stuck my head out to look at the cabin one last time. Mom’s flowers bloomed bright and happy. At least we’d leave something behind for the new renters to enjoy. The house was dark and it looked like it did when we got here—wiped clean and ready for new adventures and new people.

  We didn’t talk as we rode over the bridge and pulled onto the road. Our drive was going to be long and Dad figured we’d at least get halfway tonight.

  “Is that . . . ?” Mom’s sentence trailed off and she pointed out the windshield.

  In grass along the road, two horses’ tails streamed out behind them and a guy in a black cowboy hat urged his horse into a faster gallop. We pulled even with Logan and beside him, Frogger galloped easily, his short legs eating up the ground.

  I leaned across Dad and waved. Logan snapped his head in my direction for a second, trying not to throw his horse off balance, and raised three fingers, just as someone had done to me on my first day here.

  Laughing, I raised three fingers back. We pulled ahead of Logan and the horses and I leaned back in my seat and forced my eyes forward. Tears blurred my vision and I let them fall off my cheeks and splash onto my jeans. Now until December was both short and long at the same time. I had no regrets about letting myself fall for Logan. I’d truly lived every moment—good and bad—in Lost Springs. I had an amazing best friend in Amy, and I had Logan. Best friend and boyfriend rolled into one. Usually, on moving day, I would ask Mom to take a few photos of me outside of the house or somewhere special in town. I’d wanted the pictures so that I could look at them years from now, and they would help me remember where I had lived. But I didn’t need photos to remind me of Logan, Holden, or the rest of the town. I had my memories for that.