“So this guy,” Seth said as he shoveled manure into a big pile in the center aisle. He stopped, balanced his weight with his elbow on the handle. “This inked baseball player tough guy from Boston. You’re in love with him, huh?”
The words were a sock to the gut; it hurt to hear, but I breathed through it. “Yeah,” I shoveled, tossed, shoveled again. “I suppose so.”
“I don’t buy it.”
I stopped mucking and looked at him. “What do you mean?”
Seth shrugged his broad shoulders. “I don’t know, sis. From what you say he seemed completely into you. And from what you say about his background?” He shrugged. “Then an abrupt kiss-my-ass-I’m-not-into-relationships?” He laughed, spit on the ground, and shook his head. “Sorry, sis. Sounds sketchy to me. I ain’t buyin’ it.”
“Well,” I continued my chore. “It is what it is and I don’t have the heart or energy to pursue it.” I met his gaze. “It hurts too much. It hurts like crazy, Seth.”
The muscles in Seth’s jaws clenched as he turned a surprisingly mature sixteen year-old stare on me. His deepening voice softened. “I can see that.”
We finished the stalls and brushed the horses down before Kyle and Jace showed up. Both were mad as hell about the vandalism on my truck—both times—and even madder that I hadn’t told them about it. It was nice to have their support, honestly. But I no longer wanted to linger on the subject of my broken heart, my vandalized truck, or any of the above. And working hard seemed to help start the healing process. After Mom’s breakfast of fried eggs, bacon, biscuits and homemade strawberry jam, we hit the pens and started on the four colts. When it was my turn, my brothers except Jace, my mom and Jilly all found perches on the fence while I eased into the saddle. The colt immediately nutted up at the pressure from my backside, and ripped around the round pen. I held on, coaxing and squeezing my thighs around him, trying to calm him, but he wasn’t having any of it. Not this day. Just when I thought I’d bail, he threw me—hard. My face plowed into one of the posts, and my brother Jace skidded on his knees in the dirt beside me.
“Lil’ Bit, you okay?” he asked. He moved my braid and helped me to sit, then grasped my jaw, inspecting my injury.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said. I welcomed the pain in my face. It drew away from the ache in my heart.
Kyle hopped down and bent over at the knees. “You’re gonna have a nice shiner there, darlin’.”
I didn’t even care.
By late afternoon, all four colts had been ridden, put up, brushed. Mom made pot roast and potatoes, and it felt good to sit around my familiar dinner table with my family beside me. So good that I knew leaving in the morning would be more difficult than it had been the first time. I knew I had to study, too, and I hated to see my two older brothers leave so early. Both lived within a fifteen minute ride from the ranch, but Mom must’ve known I wouldn’t be able to study with them around and told them to skedaddle. One of her favorite words. Ever.
On the porch, with my textbook and notes spread out on the swing, I read and studied until the fading light made it too difficult to see. I stretched, yawned. Thought about Brax, winced at the pain it caused. At the hurt I knew would still be there once I got back to campus. Then the screen door creaked open, and Jilly walked out.
“You stare at those books long enough yet?” he asked, but took the rocking chair anyway.
I grinned and closed the text. “Yes sir, I have. Just finished up.”
“Hmm.” Jilly wore his long white hair pulled back into a low ponytail, and almost always wore a hat. It perched now on his head, and he pulled it down, closer to his brow. Jilly had kind eyes; soft brown and always with a twinkle. Which belied his extreme toughness. To his family, though, his heart was wide open. “Sky’s supposed to be clear tonight. Only God’s thumbnail to get in the way.”
My mouth twitched at my grandfather’s none-too-subtle hint. “Sounds perfect to me.”
Jilly looked at me, square in the eye as he always did. “Let me tell you somethin’, Lil’ Bit. And I want you to push aside the pain in your heart long enough to hear me.” He rocked back. “I know you’re feeling about as low as you can feel right now. Heartaches hurt like hell. There’s no way around that.” He pushed his hat back, and I could see his expression clearly; sincere, angry, and full of wisdom. “The only boy good enough for you darlin’ is one who’d sacrifice everything to have you. I’m talkin’ everything important to him, just to keep you. No matter the cost. Otherwise,” he rubbed his jaw, “he ain’t worth his weight, pound for pound, in pure solid horseshit. He just ain’t, Olivia Grace. You remember that.”