Conflicted (Everlasting Love)

by Tracy Wolff

  Overriding the awe and respect Jesse had earned was an overwhelming curiosity, a need to know exactly how he’d done what he’d done and a desire to learn from him. So she stood quietly, as her father and other men rushed forward to congratulate Jesse. He was calm amidst all the commotion, ignoring the compliments and questions. He simply dismounted and began walking Majesty toward his stable. Desi tagged along behind, not willing to lose sight of him for an instant.

  Once inside, Alan, the ranch’s business manager, called to Big John. He excused himself for a minute, leaving Jesse and her alone with the horses.

  She almost stayed silent, worried about embarrassing herself in front of the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. But curiosity got the best of her, as it so often did, and she asked, “What are you doing?”

  He looked at her, his black eyes carefully blank. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re talking to that horse and he’s talking to you.” She watched his eyes go wide in surprise. “And not with your voice. I saw you do it with Majesty earlier.”

  He smiled wryly. “No one’s ever noticed before.”

  She flushed. Probably because no one had ever studied him as intently as she was. “You look different when you do it. Your eyes go kind of hazy and it’s like you’re not here anymore.”

  He nodded. “I can walk with animals. That’s what my grandfather called it. My mother, too.”

  She was fascinated. “So, you’re Native American?”

  He stiffened and his eyes grew a little wary. “I’m half Cherokee.”

  “That’s awesome.” She cleared her throat, nervous under his intense scrutiny. “How does it work?”

  He paused for a minute, then smiled as if he understood her curiosity to know everything about him. “I don’t know exactly. One person in each generation of my family has the gift. By the time I was six, everyone knew it was me. I don’t know why I was chosen.”

  “Because you won’t abuse it. You’re strong and you hold your power well. But there’s no cruelty in you.” Her hands flew to her mouth almost before she was done speaking. Mama always told her to think before she spoke and she had gotten better at it. Except, it seemed, with Jesse. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “That’s all right.” He eyed her speculatively. “How do you know that?”

  “I just do.”

  “That’s not an answer.” His black eyes pinned her in place, demanded an answer that she didn’t want to give.

  “You know things about animals? Things no one else does. Right?”

  He nodded. “So what?”

  “It’s like that for me, with people. I just know things. Daddy says I’ve got good instincts. Mama says it’s a curse to see so much about others.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I don’t, really. It’s not something I think about. It’s just there, you know?”

  “I do, actually.”

  “I figured you might.” She smiled at him shyly.

  “How old are you?”

  “Sixteen.”

  He nodded as his eyes swept around the stable and out to the land beyond the open door. “What’s your favorite part of the ranch, Desiree?”

  Shivers worked their way up and down her spine. No one ever called her by her full name, largely because she hated it. Something about being named after a long-dead great-grandmother had creeped her out from the time she was a little girl, but the way he said it—in that rough satin voice—made her appreciate her name for the first time. She shrugged again. “I don’t know.”

  He cocked his head to the left, the look on his face patently disbelieving. “Yes, you do.”

  “The training circles.” Desi blurted the truth without stopping to think.

  “Why?” His intense concentration made her nervous. He studied her the way he studied the horses, as if he was examining every thought in her head.

  “They’re about becoming. No one’s won, no one’s lost. It’s just pure potential. Just a horse and a dream, before reality intrudes.”

  His lips turned up slightly at the corners in the first smile she’d seen that reached his eyes. “So you’re a romantic.”

  “Aren’t all teenage girls?”

  “I don’t know. You’re the first teenage girl I’ve talked to since I was a teenage boy.”

  She giggled. “Then you’ve got a lot to learn.”

  “I guess I do at that.” Silence reigned for a few moments. Finally he said, “You know, my culture believes strongly in special gifts—strange, inexplicable talents that only a few people have.”

  “Obviously. Look at what you can do. People would have to be pretty cynical if they could still doubt that extra-sensory talents exist after witnessing your connection with that horse out there.”

  He turned until he was fully facing her. “I wasn’t talking about me.”

  “Oh.” She glanced away, blushing despite her best efforts not to. “Then—”

  “You understand things you’re too young to know about. You see things others can’t.”

  “Yes.”

  “So can I ask you a question about that?”

  “You mean you haven’t already?”

  He laughed. It sounded kind of rusty, as if he’d almost forgotten how. “I’m serious. What do you see when you look at me?”

  Too much. She saw too much when she looked at him. She saw the surface—the handsomest, sexiest, most amazing man in the whole world. She saw the brilliant horse trainer, the one who walked in the minds of animals. She saw loneliness, the self-imposed isolation, though she didn’t know why. And clearly, so clearly, she saw what he would be for the Triple H and for her. The future. Her future.

  But she couldn’t tell him any of that. Not this man whom she had just met. This man who was too old for her, too serious and too hard by far. So she said simply, “A guy who works for my father.” It was lame, but she didn’t know how else to answer.

  She wasn’t ready for him yet and he certainly wasn’t ready for her.

  * * *

  DESI CAME BACK TO herself with a start, turning the pages of the journal as she skimmed through the next few months’ worth of entries. There was nothing much of interest there—at least not for a soon-to-be-divorced woman of forty-nine.

  After all, her response to his question had set the tone for the next eighteen months of their relationship. She had chased after him, wanting to spend every waking moment with him and he put up with it, though he never again opened himself up to her. Until one night, when everything between them changed with one random act of violence.

  Out of habit, and a need she refused to admit even to herself, Desiree flipped to the seventh entry in the book, one she—and her daughter—knew by heart.

  I was seventeen the first time Jesse ever touched me. I mean really touched me, not just a pat on the back or an affectionate ruffle of my hair. It was prom night and I was all dressed up—hot-pink halter dress, skyscraper heels, a new haircut and more makeup on my face than I normally wore in a year. I was uncomfortable, miserable, convinced I would humiliate myself by losing my balance in the five-inch heels and tumbling onto my butt in front of my date and the entire senior class.

  I hadn’t wanted to go to the stupid dance, hadn’t wanted to waste time I could spend with Jesse on a stupid high school boy. But Mama had insisted, had finally convinced me that I would regret missing this dance for the rest of my life. She even went so far as to line up my date for me—I think she was afraid I would buck tradition and go by myself. Fear that was, truthfully, well-grounded.

  Mama was tenacious. Before I knew what was happening, I’d been whisked into her favorite salon for a facial, manicure, pedicure, haircut and some other tortures too painful to mention. She found the dress, bought the shoes, even presented me with my very first pair of diamond earrings on the day of the dance.

  The evening started out ordinarily enough. Steven picked me up in his father’s Cadillac, took me out to dinner then danced with me for
hours once we arrived at prom. I tried to be enthusiastic, tried to enjoy the dancing and the festivities despite my awkward nervousness and aching feet. Steven was a gentleman—funny, attentive, interesting—and eventually I relaxed enough to enjoy the dance and the party he took me to afterward.

  When we got back to the ranch sometime after three in the morning, I was happy, a little excited and too restless to sleep. So I took off my shoes and invited Steven, a city boy, to the stables to meet Jezebel. When he reached for my hand, I let him, because it had been a nice night and the gesture seemed harmless.

  I introduced him to my horse, laughed as he fed Jezebel sugar cubes and cracked jokes at his own expense. When he wrapped an arm around me and lowered his head to mine, I didn’t protest because I was curious. Obsessed with Jesse from the first moment I had laid eyes on him, I had missed out on the many dating rituals of my peers. I was seventeen and had never been kissed, had never been held by an attractive boy, had never felt the rush of desire as hands smoothed over my body.

  His lips met mine and the sensation was mildly pleasant—not earth-shattering, not arousing, not even very interesting. I pulled back with a smile, said something funny, turned to leave. And just then suddenly he changed. He grabbed me, pulled me to him, his hands moving hard and fast over my arms, my back, my breasts. I tried to pull away, tried to shove him back, but he was strong and aroused and I had nowhere to go.

  DESI SCREAMED AS Steven dragged her to the ground, his hand slipping inside her dress to fondle her bare breast even as he thrust his tongue deep into her mouth. She gagged and turned her head, her body bucking desperately beneath his.

  “Stop it! Steven, I mean it. I want you to stop.”

  “You don’t mean that.” His breathing was harsh as he forced her legs apart, settling himself between her thighs and rubbing himself against her. “You can’t.”

  “I do. I do. Steven, no!” Her voice was panicked, her hands shaking as she shoved against his face. Annoyance gave way to anger and anger to fear as time stood still and she realized that she couldn’t move, that he had her pinned beneath him and that there was no one around to hear her screams.

  She strained against him, her body inching along the ground as she fought to escape him. “Come on, Des, stop fighting.” Steven’s voice was low, but she could hear the strain in it as he struggled to keep her beneath him. “You’ll like it. I promise.”

  Adrenaline surged through her and she put her hands on his forehead, pushing against him with every ounce of strength she possessed. His head snapped back, an almost comical look of surprise replacing the desire in his eyes. It only took a second for him to come to his senses, but that second was all Desi needed.

  She rolled away from him and ran. Dirt and hay clung to her dress but she didn’t notice as she raced for the door. He caught her mere seconds from freedom, his hands grabbing the hem of her dress and tugging so hard that she stumbled and the material ripped.

  She kicked out as she fell, her foot catching him squarely in the chest. She heard the air rush from his lungs as her heel connected and she scrambled, on all fours, desperate to escape this nightmare that was spiraling completely out of her control.

  Spying a shovel near the door, Desiree extended her body, reached for it, pausing only a second as she waited to feel her hand close around the wooden handle. But that moment of hesitation was all it took for him to be on her, one hand shoving her face into the ground as his other lifted her dress and ripped frantically at her pink lace underwear.

  “No! Please, no!” The words were torn from her against her will, shrill cries that sounded nothing like her voice. She tried to move, her fingers clawing at the ground as she twisted against him. But he was on top of her and he outweighed her by at least sixty pounds.

  Tears streamed down her face as strangled sobs tore through her chest. She wanted to scream, to beg, to plead, but he was too heavy and she couldn’t breathe. She heard the rasp of his zipper, felt her dress tear again as the lack of air caught up to her and the world slowly turned gray around the edges.

  “Steven, please.” The words were hardly more than a whisper, the fight all but gone from her as she began to float silently away. Her lungs shuddered, desperate for air as tears leaked slowly down her chin to mingle with the dirt beneath her cheek.

  She felt so heavy, as if she weighed a thousand pounds. Much too heavy to move or struggle. Desiree’s eyes drifted slowly shut despite her determination to fight. She felt him push against her, heard a bellow of rage that didn’t register.

  She heard a scream from far away, followed by a crash and then, suddenly, she was free. Her lungs were on fire as she sucked in gulp after gulp of oxygen.

  She could hear Steve whimpering behind her, could hear the slap of flesh hitting flesh. She struggled to her hands and knees and tried to get to her feet, but her legs felt like jelly.

  “Stay there, Desiree. Don’t move.” Jesse’s voice bit off the words, and relief pumped through her. They were only five words, but they were the five sweetest words she’d ever heard. Jesse was here. Everything would be okay. She would be okay.

  Another crash, another groan. She turned in time to see a bruised and bloody Steven hit the wall face-first. “Are you okay?” It was Jesse’s voice again, harsher than she’d ever heard it. She stared at him, watched his eyes burn with a rage so black it nearly frightened her.

  “I’m fine, Jesse.” Her voice was hoarse, raw. Jesse snarled at the sound, his eyes taking in her torn dress and mud-streaked face, her bruised flesh and shaking body.

  With a growl of fury, he buried his fist in Steven’s stomach. The power of the blow drove Steven to his knees and he knelt on the ground, retching. His clothes were now as torn and dirty as hers, his nose bled profusely and his arms were wrapped defensively around his stomach when Jesse reached down and grabbed him by the back of his shirt.

  All but carrying him from the barn, Jesse stopped at the door and pinned Desiree with a look that demanded obedience. “Don’t move until I get back. I need to check you for injuries.”

  Desiree watched Jesse propel Steven forward without breaking a sweat. She was still on her hands and knees and suddenly incredibly conscious of what she must look like. She pushed herself up, struggling to her feet. She tried to get to the door and see what Jesse would do to Steven, but her shaky legs refused to support her.

  “I told you not to move,” Jesse said as he entered the barn and crossed the space between them quickly. “I meant it.”

  “I’m fine,” she said from between her chattering teeth.

  “Shut up.” His voice was low and tender as he crouched next to her, his hands running over her neck, down her arms and across her torso as he searched for injuries. “Did he—”

  “No,” she answered loudly, interrupting him before he could say the ugly word. “No,” she repeated more softly as she looked into Jesse’s concerned face.

  “Are you sure?” He was looking at the torn skirt and the ripped bodice of her fancy dress.

  Color stained her cheeks and she crossed her arms defensively over her bare breasts. “I’m fine, Jesse. You got here before—” Her voice broke. “You got here in time.”

  “I’m glad, darlin’.” His voice was thick as he slipped off his blue T-shirt and helped her pull it over her head. “So damn glad.”

  “Me, too.” She looked away, unable to bear the pity and kindness reflected in his eyes.

  “Are you hurt? I didn’t feel anything broken, but that doesn’t mean—”

  She shook her head as tears clogged her throat. She wanted to be anywhere but here, to be with anyone but him. Though Jesse’s arms felt amazing and she could smell his scent from the T-shirt, she wished him far, far away. She was vulnerable, humiliated. She had wanted him for two years, had woven dreams around him. And the first time he’d seen her naked had been like this.

  He grasped her chin with gentle fingers and turned her head until she was facing him. Desiree blinked rapidly, but the
re was no doubt he saw the tears, saw the embarrassment and the agony. “Let’s get you home to your mother,” he said, scooping her into his arms.

  Despite the fear coursing through her and the aches in muscles she hadn’t known existed, Desiree turned her head into his chest. After all the hours and days and years of dreaming, it felt almost unreal to be held in his arms. She reveled in it, pushing Steven and what he’d almost done to the back of her mind. Then Jesse’s words registered and she began to squirm.

  “No, Jesse! You can’t!” She pulled back, stared into his concerned, confused face.

  “Can’t what?” he demanded as he stopped.

  “Mama can’t know about this.”

  “Of course she needs to know about this!” He scowled fiercely and his eyes narrowed with renewed rage.

  “No, Jesse.” She pushed against his chest until he set her onto her feet. “I mean it. I’m not telling Mama and you aren’t, either.”

  “You think so?” When she didn’t answer, simply crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him, he continued, “Desiree, be reasonable. You were attacked, would have been raped had I not come along when I did. Your parents need to know.”

  Biting her lip, Desi turned away, unable to bear the concern in Jesse’s eyes, the softening he didn’t try to hide.

  “She picked him, Jesse.”

  “What?”

  She shrugged. “Mama arranged my date with Steven. I didn’t want to go to the stupid dance, but she insisted. She took care of everything—my dress, my hair—” she gestured helplessly toward the door “—my date. If I told her how things ended—almost ended—she’d be devastated.

  “She doesn’t need the guilt on top of everything else, Jesse.”

  He sighed, his hands clasping her shoulders gently. “Desi, she’s your mother. Don’t you think she’d want to know? Doesn’t she have the right to know?”

  “No!” Her voice was low but powerful. “She starts chemo again on Monday and she doesn’t need this hanging over her head.”

  He started to object, but she placed her fingers over his mouth. “This isn’t open for negotiation, Jesse. I’m not telling her. And neither are you.”