“Thank fuck.” He groans as his lips claim mine again. As my body detonates into a million tiny fragments that I fear only he’ll be able to put back together again.

  51

  JACK

  ME: Lauren, I need a few extra weeks. Something’s come up that requires me to be here. Evan has things covered, so it won’t affect you. Thanks for understanding.

  I HIT SEND on the text and then put my phone on do not disturb to avoid her wrath.

  Something’s come up, all right.

  The something being I’m not ready to leave yet.

  And when I do, I’ve decided to take my secrets with me.

  52

  TATE

  “I just passed Doc Arlington. Should I ask?” Jack’s hope resonates through the connection loud and clear.

  I laugh. “I was just dialing you.”

  “Tate?”

  “Ten, Jack! Ten out of ten pregnant mares so far.” My words are part shriek, part exclamation. If I could reach through the phone and hug him right now, I would.

  “And—”

  “Doc said all the mares are healthy. The fetus’ heartbeats are strong. Everything is textbook.” I am talking too fast, but the excitement, the relief, is like a flood breaking a levee, allowing the hope that I’ve been holding back for months to finally spill over. “She’ll be back next week to check the second batch of mares we bred.”

  “Whew.” He sighs in relief, and I can hear his smile in his voice. “Things are looking up, Knox. Two foals born last week. The ten left from last year’s heat to be born any day . . . and it looks to me like we’re going to have a busy time next spring with all these new ones from Steely.”

  We’re.

  I hear the pronoun and even the parts of me that know it’s unintentional seek to hold on to the hope that it is.

  In reality, I’m going to have a busy time next spring, not we’re. I’m too excited to go down that road, though.

  “Things are definitely looking up.” I feel like shouting my excitement to the open sky, but I settle for grinning so hard my cheeks hurt. “You should probably call Pete and tell him the good news about the ultrasounds.”

  “I think you should do the honors, Tate,” he murmurs.

  I open my mouth to refute him but then stop myself. He’s prepping me for when he won’t be here because, up until this point, he’s been Pete’s only point of contact, soon it will be me.

  I won’t let it dampen my mood. Can’t.

  Because he loves me.

  He said so himself.

  That has to be enough.

  It has to be.

  I let out a raucous laugh because I just can’t keep it in anymore, and the sound is so powerful that it pulls one from him. God, it feels so good to have some of the worry gone.

  The crunch of gravel at the entrance to the ranch draws my attention. It comes with a squeal of tires, but when I look across the field and see Will with the farrier, I know it isn’t him.

  “I think a delivery’s here,” I say absently, distracted by how fast the car is coming up the drive. By the skid of its tires on the gravel as the driver slams on the brakes.

  “Delivery?”

  “Not sure.” I take a step toward the car and the person who seems to have their head resting on the steering wheel. “I have to go check.”

  “’Kay. I’m just around the corner. Be there in five.”

  I take another step closer to the car, cautious and curious.

  “Can I help you?” I call out to the woman at the same time as she flings the car door open so hard that it hits the fence rail she parked next to.

  There is an almost listless laugh that’s followed by some muttered curses as she half slides, half falls from the car.

  “How can you live in this godforsaken place?” she shouts as she stumbles, the open door catching her before she falls. She steadies herself and shakes her head as if to clear it before taking her time to turn to me.

  Dramatic, much?

  “Can I help you?” I repeat, clearly concerned by how this woman, who appears to be three sheets to the wind, was able to drive a car. She definitely took a wrong turn, but thank God, she pulled in here. If she hadn’t, she’d be on the road going head to head with Jack.

  The crunch of metal from my own accident has me absently running a hand over my shoulder and shivering.

  Her eyes narrow as she takes me in, and her laugh is as unexpected as it is loud when she throws her head back and emits it. “Jesus fucking Christ. It makes soooo much sense now,” she says, each word a drawn-out slur.

  “Miss?” I take another step toward her. “Are you okay? Have you been drinking?”

  “What would give you that idea?” She gesticulates wildly, her smile wide but bordering on unhinged.

  “How fast you zoomed in here. How you’re slurring your words.”

  Another laugh that goes as unreciprocated as her first one did. “Aren’t you cute?” She scrunches her nose as she studies me. “And for the record, I don’t slur my words. I just prefer to talk in cursive.” A lift of her eyebrows. A visual challenge for me to push her on this.

  I will let her say whatever crazy things she wants so long as she doesn’t climb back behind the wheel again.

  She steps out from behind the door, her gait unsteady, but her eyes are sharp somehow. She looks like she stepped out of a fashion magazine with her designer clothes and Italian leather boots. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a fancy ponytail, and there are numerous diamonds adorning her fingers.

  “Do I know you?” I ask.

  Her smile is arrogant and looks familiar, but I can’t exactly place it.

  I breathe a small sigh of relief when I see Jack’s truck on the stretch of road leading to the turnoff for the ranch. This drunk woman may seem harmless, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t make me uneasy.

  The cluck of her tongue and her scrutiny draws my attention back to her.

  “He just had to have you, didn’t he? He couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Like father, like son, apparently. Expectations and tough love for one of them, unconditional and immediate love for the other. So, of course, he came here and made sure to leave his mark on you,” she says as if I’m able to follow her crazy. “Of course, he had to have the ultimate fuck you.”

  “He? Him? I’m sorry, but I think you’re mistaking me for someone else.”

  Jack’s truck turns onto the driveway, the dust that just settled from her arrival now stirred back up.

  “Nope. I know exactly who you are, Tatum Knox. You’re a sweet little thing, aren’t you?” A smile. “My Jack-Jack,” she says with a shake of her head, and for the briefest of seconds, I think she’s Jack’s wife. But before the panic sets in wholly, she continues. “My brother comes off like a sheep, but don’t be fooled, he’s a wolf underneath. Cunning, vindictive, and apparently, territorial considering the way he’s staked his claim on you. That’s the one thing our father never expected him to be when the promise was made.”

  My head all but explodes when I realize she’s Jack’s sister.

  “Lauren?”

  She nods, her eyes assessing me and judging, her smile sliding slowly. “Ah, so between your sweet lovemaking and the sordid lies he fed you, he did mention me.” She clutches a hand over her chest. “Be still my heart.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not following you. Did you hit your head on the steering wheel by chance?”

  Her laughter is back. The roll of her eyes follows right after it. “Our brother had it, you know? Our dad gave it to him freely.”

  “What? Lauren—”

  “Approval. Tatum. Fucking approval.” She snaps like a frustrated teacher. “I had it regardless of what I did because I was the only girl. Jack never got it because he was the only son . . . but when our brother came along out of the fucking goddamn blue months before he died, he got it simply because Dad felt guilty. He was the bastard love child my dad never knew about. The one who tried to ruin each one of us in exchange for the money he’s now going to end up getting anyway.”

  The horn starts blaring as Jack gets closer, but I’m so lost in what Lauren is saying, in the hairs standing up on the back of my neck, that I don’t turn and look his way.

  That I don’t heed his warning.

  “I’m not following you.”

  “The Sutton household was a crazy place to grow up. Forty-five thousand acres loaded with cattle and horses, and I never had to lift a goddamn finger on that ranch. Not a one. Our father was too afraid I’d run away the first chance I had, just like our mother did . . . but Jack-Jack? He had to work his ass off day-in and day-out regardless of whether he wanted to or not. The kicker? It was never good enough. Never fast enough . . . never fucking enough.” She snorts.

  “I’m sorry. Jack will be here in a second if you need him,” I say around the dread beginning to trickle through me. Deep down, I fear whatever she’s going to say next.

  “Oh, but it’s you I want to talk to.” She scrunches her nose. “Our dad wanted to make a man out of Jack. Make him live by strict rules and hold him up to unrealistic expectations. Push him away and make him hard. And, of course, Jack bucked it all. He left to go be the man he wanted to be and flee the name he couldn’t escape.” Her laugh is anything but sympathetic and borders on manic. “When our brother turned up and daddy dearest, who was sick and lonely in his final months of losing the battle to cancer, couldn’t see the forest through the trees. Nope. He sees this surprise as his chance to get a do-over as a father. This is his chance to fix all the things he did wrong when it came to Jack.”

  The honking continues, but I don’t even spare a glance his way. My heart is in my throat and every part of me is bracing for an impact I can’t quite begin to fathom yet.

  Jack’s halfway up the driveway.

  “But the bastard son didn’t want any love or approval. No. He only wanted money. He thought he could take advantage of his sick father who he didn’t give a damn about, so he showed up in person and harassed him. He charmed him at first, conned a dying man into thinking he was sincere. He pushed and pushed until my father collapsed from his constant barrage and I banned him from ever coming back. Then he turned his conniving ways on me. Tried to tempt me with my vices so I’d force our father to just give him the money and be done with him. Didn’t take him long to figure out that the person who held the most power over my father was Jack, and when he did, he set out to try to successfully blackmail him. You get a threat and you get a threat . . . you all get threats,” she says dramatically à la Oprah Winfrey fashion as she throws her hands up. “As if spilling the big secret of his connection to the Sutton name even registered on our radar. He was too stupid to know that not a single one of us cared.” She pulls a flask out of her purse and takes a long swallow of what is most definitely not water. “But then there’s you. Look at you making out in all of this.”

  “Me?” I cough the word out as confusion reigns.

  “You got Jack warming your sheets and saving your ass. Perfect storybook romance if you ask me. All you’re forgetting is—”

  We both turn to look as Jack’s tires screech to a halt on the gravel much the same way Lauren’s did.

  “—the happily ever after,” she says coyly, completely ignoring the first time he yells her name.

  “Lauren!” he shouts again, warning thick in his voice. A shot over the bow as Jack jumps from his truck and jogs toward us. Each step he takes, though, I mentally take one in retreat.

  “Isn’t it funny how Jack fucked his brother’s widow to get back at him? Isn’t it ironic that Jack promised to make amends for the wrongs he’s done in life, only to end up just as fucked up as his brother was? What better way to get back at your bastard brother than to sleep with his wife?”

  Widow.

  Brother.

  Wife.

  Her words hit my ears. I’m hearing them, but the understanding is fuzzy and sluggish—as if my brain is trying to block them out and physically reject them.

  “Fletcher?” I . . . I don’t understand. My feet move toward her as if that will give me a clearer understanding, but my head screams to run away. “Wh-what did you just say?” I stutter the words out as the bottom of my carefully reconstructed world falls out from under me.

  “That isn’t true,” Jack shouts as every muscle in me freezes, including my heart. “Fucking hell, Lauren. I swear to God, Tate—”

  “Fletcher’s your brother?” I ask as I stare at his brown eyes, which are wide and spooked. The subtle stutter of his body gives me an answer before his mouth even opens.

  Utter shock.

  My stomach revolts.

  Complete disbelief.

  My body feels like time is passing in slow motion.

  Unfettered anger.

  My hands tremble and body shakes.

  All three emotions stomp and pound through me like a damn wildfire, out of control and uncontainable as they burn and burn and burn.

  “You’re Fletcher’s brother?” I screech, my breath hard to catch because I can’t even remember to breathe with the rage that is robbing me of all senses, all reason.

  He lied to me.

  This was all a goddamn lie.

  The her wild and him being the sure thing. The half-cocked smirks across the paddock and the pleasurable moans beneath the sheets. The breaking down of walls and building together of trust.

  “That’s not how it was.”

  “Get away from me!” I scream, my voice breaking right alongside my heart as he reaches out to touch me. I jerk back so hard that I stumble.

  “Lauren, what did you do?” he shouts, his face a mask of fury, his voice as frantic as the look in his eyes.

  “What?” she asks innocently, but her smile says she’s anything but. “I was just telling her about our brother. About how you came here to get the final say.”

  “Are you fucking insane?” He’s still screaming as he spins on her. “Get the fuck out of here. You disgust me.”

  But the fearful desperation that vibrates through his voice is answer enough to tell me it’s true. All of it is.

  I’m paralyzed by the truth, needing distance but unable to move.

  “Jack . . .” I say with numb lips. “I don’t . . . I—”

  “I can explain,” he says interrupting me.

  “I trusted you.” I can see each word reach out and punch him. I can see each syllable make impact.

  But they don’t hurt him enough.

  Nothing can.

  He lied to me. He made me believe him and then he lied when I trusted.

  “I promise. There’s an explanation. Everything is not what she said. That is not what—fuck!”

  “But it is what she said.”

  I can’t breathe.

  Oh, God, why can’t I take a damn breath?

  “No.”

  “Was Fletcher your brother?” The question might as well be acid in my throat.

  His nod is subtle, but the defeat in his eyes has me covering my ears and shaking my head, not wanting to know. Knowing that no matter what he tries to explain, it will never be good enough.

  It’ll never be enough.

  It will never make any of this any better.

  Everything we had was all a fabrication so he could get something he wanted.

  I finally believed in my ability to trust again . . . and . . . and . . . I vomit the contents of my stomach on the side of the driveway. Over and over until there is nothing left in me but despair.

  “Tatum.” He puts his hand on my back and I jump away from him again.

  “Don’t you touch me!” I scream through clenched teeth as the shock gives way to anger, as the trust gives way to deceit. I double over, and my arms wrap around my midsection as I stumble a few more feet toward the house.

  “Goddamn it, Lauren!” He’s still shouting at the top of his lungs, and the horses begin to stir at the disruption. “It has to be about you, doesn’t it? Always about fucking you. You didn’t have my attention, so you had to make sure you stole it by coming here. You didn’t like that, for once, I’d found my own happy, so you had to come here and ruin it. You . . .” It’s the broken sound in his voice that breaks me further when I thought I was already broken enough.

  My tears slip over.

  “It’s your fault you didn’t tell her the truth. Not mine.”

  “Shut your fucking mouth! Shut it, or I swear to God, I will disown you as a sister, and the next time you fall into a bottle, I’m going to let you drown. I won’t pick up when you call or bail you out or help you hire a lawyer when your piece-of-shit dead husband decides to take those kids from you!”

  “You wouldn’t dare.” She laughs and is still laughing as Will comes barreling out of the stables to see what the commotion is about.

  “Jack?” he calls out, confusion and concern ringing through.

  “Get her to the bunkhouse,” Jack orders Will, flinging his arm in the general direction of the building. “Get her out of my fucking sight.”

  But when Jack turns to look at me, when our eyes meet, all I can do is shake my head and reject the words he hasn’t even spoken yet. Reject the apology and fear in his eyes, because he doesn’t have any right to feel them when I’m the one who was just blindsided.

  “No.”

  It’s on repeat with the shake of my head as I step back up the verandah steps.

  “Tate, let me explain.”

  “Get your shit and leave.” Why does this hurt so badly? “I don’t want you here anymore.” Why do I feel like a grenade just detonated in my chest? “You’re fired.”

  “Knox.” My name is a weighted sigh.

  “Exactly,” I say, my voice steady for the first time. “I was someone else’s woman once. Just like you, he wasn’t the man I thought he was either.”

  When I step into the house, when I lock the door at my back, I finally allow my knees to give out, and I slide to the floor.

  It’s only then the gravity of the entire conversation hits me full force.