Wild, Crazy Hearts

by Melissa Foster

  Brindle leaned back against the cushions, excited to tell Morgyn what she’d been thinking about. “Yes, you do need to keep it. Maybe I shouldn’t tell you, because it’s a big one.”

  Morgyn groaned. “Now I have to know.”

  “Remember how you said you asked Graham to marry you because you wanted the world to know how much you loved him?”

  “Yes, why? Oh my gosh, Brindle! Are you going to ask Trace to marry you?”

  “Shh! Graham will hear you!”

  “He’s outside with Ty, and Aiyla’s in the bathroom.” Morgyn lowered her voice and said, “Are you really going to do it?”

  “I’m thinking about it.”

  Morgyn squealed. “I can’t believe it! I want to be there. When are you doing it? I’m so excited! Does Mom know?”

  “No! Nobody knows, and you promised to keep it to yourself.”

  Morgyn groaned again. “Brin-dle! You shouldn’t have told me. Can I just tell Graham?”

  “No! You can’t tell anyone. I mean it, Morgyn.” She heard Trace’s truck pull up out front and said, “He’s home. I gotta go.”

  “Are you doing it now?”

  “No,” Brindle said. “Remember, you cannot say a word.”

  “I’ll try…”

  “Morgyn!” she warned as Trace came through the door. “I’ll see you at Christmas. Love you!”

  Trace sauntered over as she ended the call and he sat down beside her. “How’re my girls?” He kissed her, and then he kissed her belly. She would never tire of the love he showered on them.

  “Awesome. I’m almost done grading papers, and there’s a chicken roasting in the oven.” She and Trace had been learning to cook together, trying different recipes, often burning them because they got too lost in each other. But she was so happy and excited about the baby, their relationship—their lives—that she wanted to do something extra special for him tonight. Her mother told her she was nesting, but Brindle had read about nesting, and usually it came along with an urge to clean, and she definitely didn’t have that. But she had an overwhelming desire to do things for Trace, like cooking, getting the nursery ready, and spending time alone with him. He’d painted the nursery pale yellow last weekend, and they were deciding on themes. Trace wanted horses, and Brindle leaned toward something different every day. Luckily, they still had three months to decide.

  Trace moved a stack of papers to the coffee table. He put his arm around her and rubbed her belly. “Hear that, Lilly Sue? Mama’s making dinner. She gets more amazing every day.”

  “Lilly Sue?” She arched a brow. “That’s a pretty cute name, but I thought her middle name was going to be Louise, after your grandmother?”

  “Lilly Lou? Hm…”

  She rolled her eyes. “I came up with another list of ideas today.” She grabbed her notebook from the floor and flipped to the list. “I alphabetized them. Aria, Brooklyn, Emily again, because it’s stuck with me since Thanksgiving. Georgia. We could call her Gia.”

  Trace picked up his guitar from behind the couch and strummed as he sang, “Aria, Brooklyn, Emily again—”

  The baby moved, and Brindle gasped. “Oh, she likes that. Sing it again.”

  He repeated the line, adding in some of his own names as he strummed the guitar. “Anna, Aria, Bethany, Brooklyn, Emily—”

  The baby kicked so hard Brindle said, “Whoa! That’s it. I think she likes Emily. You have to feel this.” Trace hadn’t felt the baby move yet, but her movement was stronger than ever before.

  He set his guitar down and put both hands on her belly.

  “Emily,” she coaxed, both of them staring at her belly, waiting for their little girl to do her trick. “Come on, baby girl. Please kick again.”

  Trace leaned closer to her belly and sang, “Anna, Aria, Bethany—”

  The baby kicked, and Trace gasped. “Holy shit. Did you feel that?” He splayed his fingers, covering almost her entire belly as he pressed more firmly. “That was amazing. You feel that all the time?”

  “No, only sometimes, but more in the last week or so. I think she likes your voice.”

  The baby moved again, and Trace laughed. Then he grabbed Brindle’s face between his hands and kissed her hard. “She’s amazing. You’re incredible.”

  “I think you mean we’re incredible, all three of us,” she said between excited kisses.

  They sat on the couch trying to coax their little girl into moving until the oven timer went off. And after eating dinner, which wasn’t quite as delicious as when her mother roasted a chicken but was good enough for Trace to praise her endlessly, Trace made a fire. Warmed by the dancing flames, they discussed trading in Brindle’s car for a bigger, four-door vehicle. She knew she’d have to do that before the baby was born, and she was glad Trace was looking into sportier cars and not minivans. They went back to discussing names, and both of them became giddy every time the baby moved hard enough for Trace to feel it.

  Brindle knew how much he loved her and the baby. But over the course of the next few hours, as he sang to her belly and they laughed about Whoville names like Cindy Lou Who and Dr. Mary Lou LaRue, she felt him falling deeper in love with her. With them. And when they turned on a movie and cuddled on the couch, his strong arms wrapped around her, she was overcome with a sense of complete happiness.

  Trace pressed a kiss to her cheek and whispered, “I love you, darlin’.”

  Everything she wanted, and everything she needed, was right there in that room. As she told him she loved him, she knew those three little words weren’t nearly enough to convey what was in her heart.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “ARE YOU STILL meeting your brothers at four thirty?” Brindle asked Trace late Saturday night as he filled a glass with ice water.

  Her stomach had been in knots for two days. She planned on going to watch him ride, but she hadn’t told Trace. Even though he’d found out she’d been secretly watching him before she went to Paris, it felt all kinds of wrong to tell him what she was planning. She and her sisters never told anyone before they went on their secret adventures. It was a tradition. They rarely even told each other ahead of time. Dragging unsuspecting siblings out of bed was half the fun. Otherwise she might as well just go sit on the fence with Trace’s brothers and watch him ride, and what was the fun in that? When he wasn’t aware she was watching from the hill, he was even more macho because he and his brothers were wicked competitive. He laughed harder, rode rougher, and got himself all worked up, so the next time he saw Brindle, he did everything more aggressively.

  And she loved that.

  “That’s the plan.” He kissed her and said, “I’ll try not to wake you when I leave.”

  Another pang of guilt sliced through her. He was so good to her. He never kept secrets, and here she was wanting to hold on to hers. She followed him into the living room and said, “I have to tell you something, and telling you goes against everything I believe in, but not telling you feels wrong, so…”

  “Go for it, darlin’.” He sat on the couch, and she sat on the coffee table in front of him.

  “I’m sneaking out tonight. Not sneaking actually, because I’m telling you about it. I’m going to watch you ride tonight, but I don’t want you to—”

  “No, you’re not.” He set the glass of water on the coffee table.

  “Excuse me?” she said with disbelief.

  “You’re six months pregnant and it’s freezing out there. You’re not going to sit on a hill before dawn and watch me ride. You can watch me during the day.”

  She pushed to her feet and said, “Are you forbidding me?”

  “Nope. I’m being your boyfriend, protecting you from getting sick or falling on the way up the hill. Last time you and Morgyn did that shit, she fell down the hill, remember?”

  Brindle paced. She didn’t want to fight, but she was not going to sit back and let him forbid her from doing a damn thing. “Hold on. Since when do you tell me what I can and cannot do?”

&
nbsp; He pushed to his feet, towering over her as he said, “Since you’re pregnant with my baby and I don’t want anything to happen to either of you.”

  “Your baby? Where the hell is this coming from, Trace?” Her voice escalated, but she was too mad to slow down. “Don’t pull this crap on me. What happened to talking things out and discussing them?”

  “We are,” he said sternly, his jaw tight.

  “This is not a discussion. This is a dictatorship. What happened to you? You’re being completely ridiculous.”

  “I’m being ridiculous?” he hollered. “You’re the one who wants to go traipsing around like you have no responsibilities.”

  “Oh, really?” She crossed her arms, glaring at him. “You think I act like I don’t have any responsibilities? Who’s the one carrying the baby? Who’s the one who doesn’t drink, has to get enough sleep, and goes to the doctor every four weeks? Oh yeah, me!”

  “Well, this is a hard limit for me. You want to watch me ride? Come with me during the day. I’ll set up a heater in the barn and make sure you’re safe. No hill climbing.”

  “Listen to you, telling me what you’ll do. Did you have to ask for my permission to ride?”

  He scoffed. “Why would I?”

  “Exactly,” she fumed. “Why should I?”

  “Because it’s dangerous, Brindle, and reckless, and—”

  “Stop,” she hollered, too angry and hurt to listen to any more. They’d come so far. How could they spiral backward so fast? “Sitting on a frigging hill is about as dangerous as sitting in my yard. You’re the one in danger, riding your wildest horses before daylight. That’s reckless!” She was breathing so hard her entire body heaved with every word.

  “I’m a man. I can take care of myself,” he said so fucking calmly it pissed her off even more.

  “Because you have a penis? Well, let me tell you something. That penis of yours? It makes you say stupid shit sometimes, and this is one of those times. I’m not doing this with you,” she seethed, and headed for the stairs. She stopped at the bottom step without looking at him and said, “And I’m not storming off. I just can’t do this with you right now. I…can’t. I’m going to bed before I say something I can’t take back!”

  “You do what you gotta do,” he ground out as she stomped upstairs.

  She paced the bedroom, seeing red. Where was all this coming from? She tore off her clothes and put on one of his T-shirts she slept in, swiping at the unrelenting tears streaming down her cheeks. She brushed her teeth too hard, nicking her gum, and her anger turned to hurt. She didn’t understand any of this. Was it her? Was she being ridiculous? Or was he being a controlling ass?

  She had plans for tonight. Big plans that included great things between them.

  She should want to cancel those plans.

  But she didn’t.

  She wanted to figure this out and keep moving forward, but she was too hurt by his demands to think clearly enough to figure out how to do that.

  She opened her jewelry box, carefully lifting out the velvet shelf inside, revealing the black box she’d hidden there. She took it out and sat on the edge of the bed, breathing deeply to try to regain control of her emotions. She opened the box. Inside was the sturdy, masculine ring she’d had made for him. She ran her fingers along the textured silver edges and the brushed gold in between. The ring was unpolished and rugged. It was perfect. It looked weathered, with uneven edges, some parts darker than others, so Trace would never have to worry about it getting banged up at work. Her heart squeezed as she read the inscription, the date of their first kiss, followed by COWBOY and MUSTANG with a heart etched between them.

  She set the box in the bedside drawer and climbed beneath the covers with the ring in her fist. She lay listening to him pacing downstairs, telling herself this would blow over. She tried to convince herself to tell him he was right and let it go.

  But she didn’t want to let it go, because who the fuck did he think he was?

  She had no idea how long she lay stewing in the dark. At some point she must have fallen asleep, because she woke to the sound of Trace getting ready for bed. She pretended she was sleeping as he climbed into bed behind her and wrapped his arm around her.

  He whispered, “I’m sorry, darlin’.”

  Tears burned, but she didn’t move, didn’t apologize. She was too busy solidifying her plans.

  BRINDLE AWOKE HOURS later as Trace slipped from the bed. She kept her eyes closed, anger and hurt still eating away at her. The hurt probably outweighed the anger, but the line was so fine, it was hard for her to commit one way or the other.

  She listened as he padded downstairs in his socked feet, as he did every morning, though not usually this early. The familiar sounds of Trace making coffee, putting on his boots, and the faint jingling of his keys drove the hurt deeper. She hated that they’d fought. Her mother told her that going to bed angry was allowing a villain into their bedroom, but she’d been too freaking mad to think of that last night. She heard the front door open and close, then the faint click of the lock. She closed her eyes, imagining Trace striding toward his truck, his broad shoulders rounded against the cold. She heard his truck door close. That was where she lost track of the sounds, but she looked out the window and saw his headlights sweep over the dark backyard. He was turning the truck around and leaving.

  She counted to ten and realized her hand was still fisted around the ring. When she hit ten, she threw the blankets off and popped out of bed. She pulled on jeans and shoved the ring in her pocket. Then she put on a tank top and a sweater, pulled on socks, pocketed her phone, and hurried downstairs. She grabbed her coat, hat, and scarf, shoved her feet into her boots, snagged her keys from the hook by the door, and ran out to her car.

  The cold air stung her cheeks as she climbed in and revved the engine. She didn’t wait for the car to warm up as she peeled out of the driveway and drove straight to Sable’s.

  Sable lived in an apartment above the auto shop she owned. Brindle hurried up the stairs. She fumbled with her keys, let herself in, and tripped over a pair of boots by the door.

  “Damn it.” She turned on the lights, shocked to find Aubrey sleeping on Sable’s couch. The coffee table was littered with bags of Cheetos, Skittles, and Stewart’s orange soda bottles.

  Aubrey groaned and pulled the covers over her head. “It can’t be morning.”

  “It’s not. What are you doing here?”

  “I was going over changes to the script with Grace.”

  “I don’t mean in Oak Falls.” Brindle pulled the blankets from Aubrey’s head, earning another whining groan. Aubrey’s hair was tangled, her makeup smeared. “I mean, at Sable’s.”

  “I slept at Grace’s last night, but the walls are thin.” Aubrey pushed up to a sitting position.

  “Oh. Good for Gracie, getting some action.”

  “Right? I was going to stay with Amber. Sable, Amber, and I went out to JJ’s, but Amber left early because Sable and I were apparently scoping out guys for too long. By the way, you can keep your cowboys. Not my type…”

  “Whatever. You should wash your makeup off at night. You look like a raccoon.”

  “What are you, my mother?” She picked up her phone and looked at it. “Good God, woman, it’s four fifteen!”

  “No shit. Get up. We’re going out.” Brindle headed for Sable’s room. “She’s alone in there, right?”

  “Yes.”

  Brindle burst into Sable’s room and turned on the light.

  “What the fu—” Sable bolted upright.

  Brindle grabbed her jeans from a chair and tossed them to her. “Get up. I need you to go to the hill with me.”

  “Seriously?” Sable swung her long legs over the side of the bed. “You live with the guy. Do you really have to go watch him ride at this hour?”

  “Don’t start with me unless you want to join Trace on my shit list. Can you believe he told me I couldn’t go watch him ride? He tried to forbid me. If I didn’t
love him so much, I’d have clocked him for that.”

  Sable laughed as she pulled a sweatshirt over the little tank top she’d slept in. “Dude’s got balls.”

  “Big ones,” Brindle said. “If he thinks he’s going to ruin my fun just because I’m pregnant, he’s about to learn how wrong he is. Nobody tells me what to do.”

  Sable shoved her feet into her boots and said, “I thought you guys were doing better, talking shit out?”

  “We were. We are. I think he’s on the rag or something. Guys get like that, right? All weird and hormonal once a month?”

  “In my experience,” Aubrey said as she appeared in the doorway, “guys are like that most of the time.”

  Brindle rushed them out the door, and they drove over to the hill. As they trudged up the grass, Sable and Aubrey flanked Brindle, clutching her arms.

  “Why are you holding on to me?” Brindle asked.

  “Because you could fall,” Sable pointed out.

  “You sound like Trace, which is not a good thing right now,” Brindle said as they ascended the hill. “We were communicating so well. I don’t understand his complete turnaround. I know he loves me, but he usually loves all of me, including my spontaneous, fun-seeking ways. And he definitely knows better than to forbid me from anything.” Brindle looked at Aubrey and said, “What am I missing? Is it me? Am I being foolish?”

  Aubrey released Brindle’s arm and held her hands up in surrender. “Don’t look at me. I have no intention of ever doing something crazy like moving in with my fuck buddy. I’m of the belief that men and women should live separately and come together to fulfill each other’s needs. Then…” She waved. “Bye-bye.”

  “Yeah, well, good luck with that. I thought that’s where we were, too, but now I know better. I thought I was happy when we were just having fun together, without a commitment, but now I know I wasn’t. Trace changed all of that for me, and despite this asinine fight, I never want to be without him.” She stopped walking halfway up the hill, breathing hard. She rubbed her belly, hating the question nagging at the back of her mind, which she was futilely trying to ignore.