CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 14
Morning arrived sooner than Jo expected . . . and much earlier than she wanted.
Last night, after she’d left Brooks on the hotel grounds and returned to her hotel room, she’d stood just inside the threshold and closed her eyes, trying to process the enormity of what he was asking of her.
Cheyenne was snuggled under the covers in her double bed, sleeping deeply and snoring lightly.
The sight of her had brought a smile to Jo’s lips despite the dilemma she faced. Cheyenne, her long hair mussed about the pillow and expression relaxed in deep, peaceful sleep, had become almost unrecognizable from the girl she’d been. There was no trace of the anger and pain she’d exhibited when she’d first arrived at Lone Oaks Crossing.
She’d grown so much over the past six months. Clearly, the predictable routine of caring for horses outdoors in the fresh air and sunshine had helped Cheyenne shake off some of the cynicism and disgust that had festered inside her when Jo had first met her at Dream House.
Dream House.The name alone inspired so many hopes but had delivered so very few for Cheyenne—or Brooks—during the time they’d spent there.
Now, Jo, sitting on the edge of her double bed in the hotel room, stared at the thin curtain covering the window, watching the morning sunlight begin to peek through the white material, her thoughts turning again to Brooks’s painful losses.
Her eyes burned. She knew he’d suffered. Knew his pain, anger, and resentment ran deep. But she also knew that Spencer Harris (though he’d certainly contributed to Brooks’s misfortunes and pain) wasn’t the sole cause.
Brooks had been dealt a bad hand in life. He’d experienced pain and loss like so many other people Jo had met—even worked with—over the years . . . including herself. And if he continued down the path he was taking—if he continued searching for closure by inflicting pain or exacting revenge on someone else rather than dealing with the anger that tormented him on the inside, he’d never find peace or be satisfied with anything or anyone. Including her.
Blinking back tears, she slowly stood and, moving quietly so as not to disturb Cheyenne, went into the bathroom, shut the door, and washed her face. She patted her face dry with a hand towel and looked in the mirror, frowning at the dark shadows under her eyes and her strained expression.
She wanted to give Brooks the answer he hoped for. She certainly didn’t want to walk away from him. But . . . she couldn’t stay. She couldn’t continue to blindly support him in a quest for vengeance and power that she knew would never bring resolution to his pain. But maybe, just maybe, she could persuade him to see her side of things. Help him understand why she was making the decision she was and, hopefully, persuade him to join her.
After showering, Jo dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, left a note for Cheyenne letting her know she’d be back soon, then exited the room quietly. She walked to the other end of the hall, glancing at the closed doors of Frankie and Earl’s room as she passed. Once she reached Brooks’s door, she raised her fist, hesitated briefly, then knocked.
Moments later, the door opened and Brooks, his dark hair disheveled and his expression looking as stressed as she felt, stepped back and swept his arm toward the interior of his suite as though he’d been awaiting her arrival.
“I just had a fresh carafe of coffee delivered,” he said, striding across the suite to the sitting room area. He, like her, was dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt, and his hair was damp and disheveled as though he’d just emerged from a shower, but his strong hand shook slightly as he picked up a white ceramic carafe and poured coffee into a mug. “You take sugar and cream, right?”
Her lips curved. “You’ve noticed?”
He paused in the act of pouring cream, glanced back at her, and smiled. “Yeah.” He resumed adding cream, then sugar and stirred, murmuring softly, “I’ve noticed everything about you.”
She stood still, her breath coming more rapidly as he walked toward her, holding out the mug. Aromatic steam rose from the rim and mingled with the masculine scent of his aftershave, the heady combination enticing her senses. “Thank you.”
His fingers lingered on hers as she accepted the mug. Then he moved away, returning to the small table in the sitting area, pouring a cup of coffee for himself and gesturing toward one of the two chairs at the table. “Please, have a seat.”
She did so, settling into one of the soft chairs and watching as he did the same.
“So,” he said, cradling his coffee in both hands as he faced her across the table. “Have you thought things over?”
“That’s all I did last night.” She sipped her coffee, her lips trembling against the rim of the cup. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Neither could I.” His dark eyes roved over her, sadness pooling in them. “You’re not staying, are you?”
She remained silent and sipped her coffee again, then asked softly, “If you found out you only had one month left of life, what would you do with it? How would you spend it?”
He frowned, an exasperated expression crossing his face. “Jo—”
“Please,” she said, evoking their private joke. “Humor me?”
The displeasure in his eyes faded but he clenched his jaw, then said, “I’d certainly want to live it to the fullest.”
“I’d hope so.” She set her mug on the table and leaned forward, resting her arms on the table. “My time is the most valuable asset I have. I don’t want to spend one day of it doing something I don’t believe in.” She looked down, interlocking her fingers and squeezing to still the tremors running through them. “When I started teaching, I loved it, and I had such high hopes for the future. I really thought I could make a difference and I truly believe I did for a while.” She glanced up, meeting his eyes. “But over time, things changed, and I didn’t feel as though I were in the right place anymore. I lost my joy in it and I felt like a pawn. I didn’t want to believe it, but after I finally accepted that I needed to move on . . . that there was something better waiting for me somewhere else, I was able to picture a different future. One where I regained control of my life again.”
Brooks reached out and covered her hands with his. “Jo . . . I—”
“Do you remember when we first met? The busted lip I sported?” Smiling ruefully, she lifted her hand and tapped her bottom lip. “It took getting socked in the mouth by some kid for me to let that place go. That’s how devoted I was to teaching—to a career that was offering me nothing but pain and degradation in return for my time and dedication.” She placed her hand on his wrist, feeling his pulse beat softly against her thumb. “Natasha—the student that hit me—she was in an argument with another student and just couldn’t let it go. As a matter of fact, she was always fighting with everyone who crossed her path. So many of us at that school tried to help her, tried to coax her into turning her life around but the thing was, no matter what we did, she never made the choice to commit to change. And that was one thing we couldn’t do for her—that had to come from her.”
She leaned closer, squeezing his wrist and hand. “You could spend every moment of your life from this point forward strategizing, putting together plans, and pursuing some form of retribution against Spencer Harris and never find what you’re looking for. I suspect what you’re really looking for isn’t something you’ll ever receive from him.”
His mouth tightened and he stared down at their joined hands. “And what is it you think I’m looking for?”
“A way to make the pain go away,” she said softly. “You have so much already, Brooks, and none of it is making you happy. Hurting Spencer isn’t going to erase the bad memories you’re carrying or give you back the time you lost with your parents. But you do have a choice in terms of how you spend the time you have ahead of you.” She reached out and cupped his cheek, drifting her thumb over his strong jaw, the dark stubble on his cheeks rough against her skin. “Choose to let this feud with Spencer Harris go and come back to Lone Oaks Crossing with me. Put him—and the regrets—behind you and start over. Build a new life that makes you happy with me and Cheyenne. With Frankie and Earl. With the kids you’ve been helping at Dream House. You’re not alone, Brooks. Come home to Lone Oaks and start fresh.”
He was quiet for a while, holding her gaze. Then he turned his head, took her hand in his, and kissed the center of her palm. “I wish I could, Jo. But I can’t.”
Heart breaking, Jo closed her eyes, memorizing the feel of his lips against her skin and the deep throb of his voice. “Okay.” She stood, walked around the table, and leaned down, brushing a tender kiss across his mouth. “You know where I’ll be.”
“Jo.”
She paused on the way to the door and glanced back at him. “You won’t have any trouble finding a trainer now.” She smiled. “Everyone’ll be lining up for a chance to work with Another Round—and you—in one way or another.”
He was standing now, his lean cheeks flushed and chin trembling. “You’re really quitting?”
Wet heat trickled down her cheeks as she nodded. “Sometimes that’s the only way to move forward. And it’s the hardest—not the easiest—thing to do. To let go of what’s not healthy or not working. It’s the right choice for me. I don’t feel guilty about that anymore. I’m on a new path now—have been for a while. One where I can make a difference in Cheyenne’s life and help her find her way in a loving home. Maybe do the same for other kids at Dream House who need support in a way that a traditional school can no longer provide. One where I can spend my days with my family, taking care of Earl, supporting Frankie, and choosing how I spend my time on my own terms. A life that’s safer and more joyful than the one I had before.” She walked to the door and opened it, saying over her shoulder as she left, “I just wish we could have traveled that path together.”
* * *
Packing was easy but later that morning, after leaving Brooks’s hotel room and returning to her own, breaking the news to Cheyenne was much more difficult than Jo had anticipated.
“What do you mean we’re going back to Lone Oaks?” Cheyenne scowled at Jo as she laid her suitcase on the bed in their hotel room, opened it, and began filling it with her belongings. “Another Round just won the Derby. Frankie said that means he has a shot at the Triple Crown and that Brooks’ll probably take him on to the Preakness race.”
Jo walked over to the dresser, opened a drawer, and scooped out her clothes, then went back to the bed and tossed them into her open suitcase. “Brooks is taking Another Round to the Preakness, but we won’t be accompanying him.”
Confused, Cheyenne narrowed her eyes, tilted her head back, and skimmed her gaze over the ceiling as though an explanation dangled from the heavens. “I don’t get it. Another Round just won. He’s going on to the Preakness with Brooks, and we’re going home? But . . . you’re Another Round’s trainer. You can’t just leave him in the middle of a competition.”
Jo returned to the dresser, opened a second drawer, and withdrew the pants she’d placed there two weeks earlier, then tossed them in the suitcase, too. “I can and I will.” Sighing, Jo walked around and sat on the edge of the double bed, facing Cheyenne, who stood beside hers. “Look, I’m not going to explain every detail of my decision, but I will share with you that I’m not interested in accompanying Another Round to the Preakness—or to any other race, for that matter.”
Cheyenne slumped onto the edge of her bed, facing her. “But why?”
“Do you remember when I told you what to expect here at the Derby and that I’d been here before?” Jo asked.
Still scowling, Cheyenne nodded.
“The horse I trained back then—Sweet Dash—we took him on to the Preakness after he won the Derby, and things didn’t turn out so well for him there. He had an accident on the track and we ended up having to put him down.” She rubbed her eyes, the strain of the morning catching up to her. “Up to that point, we’d had great luck, you see? And we thought our luck would just continue on forever. We didn’t think about stopping. About taking our win and our healthy horse back home where he could be safe and happy. We would still have had a world-renowned thoroughbred to flaunt.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to take that risk with Another Round. I don’t want to be a part of taking the chance that Another Round’s luck may run out. Plus, my agreement with Brooks to serve as his trainer only involved getting Another Round to the Derby and, hopefully, helping him secure a win. I’ve done that. So now, it’s time to go home.”
“But . . .” Cheyenne looked down and dragged her bare feet across the carpet. “I thought you guys were, I don’t know, like together or whatever.”
Jo blinked as her face heated, unsure of how to respond.
Cheyenne looked up, studying her face. “I mean, I’m right, ain’t I? You like him? And he likes you?”
“Well . . .” Jo shrugged awkwardly. “Yeah. We like each other well enough.”
Cheyenne rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. I ain’t dumb. I can see how it is. Y’all like-like each other.”
Despite the awkward tension, Jo laughed. “Okay. We like-like each other.”
“But you’re still leaving?” Cheyenne asked. “Just like that? Leaving him here on his own with Another Round?”
“Brooks is a grown man,” Jo said firmly. “He can take care of himself, and believe me, he’ll have more choices than he could imagine when it comes to hiring another trainer for Another Round.” She stood, walked to the end of the bed, and resumed packing. “I’m not discussing my relationship with Brooks, but I will tell you this much. He and I just want different things right now. We’re choosing to go in different directions. That may change in the future, but for now, it doesn’t look like it’s going to happen.”
Silence fell between them. The only sounds were Jo’s shoes stepping softly across the carpet as she continued packing, retrieving toiletries from the bathroom, and returning her foundation and lipstick to her makeup caddy while Cheyenne watched her in silence.
Then Cheyenne stood and, fidgeting with the hem of her shorts, eyed Jo hesitantly. “So . . . what is it you want that Brooks doesn’t?” Her gaze skittered away as Jo faced her. “I mean, what are you wanting to do besides train Another Round?”
Sensing the cautious tone in Cheyenne’s voice, Jo stopped packing and sought her eyes, holding her gaze. “I want to go back to Lone Oaks Crossing and take care of the horses we’re boarding. I want to get Earl home so he can rest, watch the horses graze under the sun on the back deck, and enjoy the spring weather. I want to work with Frankie to start renovating the main house and updating our stable so that we can build a new business for Lone Oaks Crossing and maybe invite more people in need to stay with us. And I want to get you settled back into your daily routine, help you study for your exams and get great grades, and explore what you want to do with your future.” She spread her hands. “After all, your grades are excellent right now and you’ll be starting your sophomore year after summer. If you decide to continue taking classes online, you’d be able to stick to your current schedule and still work with the horses every day.”
“After summer?” Cheyenne’s brows lifted, her eyes widening. “You mean . . . you’re going to let me stay at Lone Oaks Crossing even after I finish my community hours?”
Jo smiled gently. “I’m not ‘letting you.’ I’m inviting you to stay with me, Earl, and Frankie at Lone Oaks Crossing for as long as you want. It’d make me happy for you to call Lone Oaks Crossing your home.”
Cheyenne’s chin trembled. “Y-you mean you want me to stay for good? Like . . . as part of your family?”
Jo crossed the room and nudged Cheyenne’s chin up, meeting her eyes. “As far as I’m concerned, whether you decide to stay at Lone Oaks Crossing or not, you’re already a part of our family. We’ll always be here for you.”
Two big tears rolled down Cheyenne’s cheeks and a smile broke out on her face, lifting her cheeks and lighting her eyes. “I’d like that.” She threw herself into Jo’s arms, pressing her cheek to Jo’s neck, her hot tears damp against Jo’s skin. “I’d like that a lot.”
Jo, blinking back tears of her own, hugged her close, then smoothed her hand over her hair. “Does this mean you’re not going to give me any more grief about us going home now?”
Cheyenne laughed, her slight frame shaking against Jo before she eased away and dragged the back of her forearm over her wet cheeks. “Yeah. I’m okay with going home.” She narrowed her eyes. “So long as you let me ride shotgun? I’m sick to death of the back seat.”
“Always the negotiator.” Jo laughed, then nodded. “I think we can handle that.”
Two hours later, after Jo had shared her decision with Frankie and Earl, she, Cheyenne, Earl, and Frankie were all packed. They carried their bags to the parking lot and began loading them in Earl’s truck.
“I see y’all are getting a head start on the trip back.”
Jo, standing by the tailgate of the truck, hefted the last bag into the back, then glanced over her shoulder. Brooks stood a few feet away, his hand shoved in the pockets of his jeans as he surveyed the packed truck.
“Yeah,” she said. “We wanted to hit the interstate before the heaviest traffic.”
“Hey, Brooks?” Cheyenne left the passenger side of the truck and walked over to Brooks, hesitating a couple feet away from him. “Will you . . . will you tell Another Round ’bye for me?”
Brooks smiled. “Of course. I’ll even give him a hug for good measure.”
He held Cheyenne’s gaze for a moment, and when she didn’t move, he removed his hands from his pockets and spread his arms. Immediately, Cheyenne ran over, threw her arms around his waist, and pressed her cheek to his chest. He hugged her, smoothing one strong hand over her hair and dropping a kiss on the top of her head.
“I’m gonna miss you, kid,” Brooks whispered, his voice barely discernible above a car passing by through the parking lot. “Take care of the horses for me, okay?” He looked up, his eyes meeting Jo’s. “And Jo, too, all right?”
Cheyenne nodded against his chest, then pulled away, scrubbing the heels of her hands over her wet cheeks. “I-I will.”
With that, she darted back to the truck, opened the passenger door, and climbed inside.
“Good luck at the Preakness,” Earl said, walking over and hugging Brooks. “And be careful on the road.”
“I will.” Brooks smiled as Frankie jogged over and wrapped him in a bear hug, too. “Y’all be careful on the road, too. Give me a call when you make it back safely, okay?”
“Of course.” Frankie patted his chest, then walked with Earl back to the truck, saying over her shoulder, “If you need us, you know where we’ll be.”
Moments later, the engine cranked and Jo stood by the tailgate a minute longer, holding Brooks’s sad gaze and absorbing the vibrations of the metal bumper against her palm. Then she pushed off the tailgate, walked over, wrapped her arms around his waist, and pressed her cheek to his chest just as Cheyenne had.
His heart pumped rapidly beneath her cheek, each strong beat coming in time with the shallow breaths rasping between her lips. “I’m going to miss you.”
His lips, soft and warm, pressed against the top of her head, and his big hands tightened around her back, pulling her closer. “No more than I’ll miss you.”
The catch in his normally steady tone made her heart squeeze. She lifted her head from his chest, rose to her tiptoes, and pressed her mouth to his. He kissed her back, his mouth moving with slow tenderness against hers until she reluctantly pulled away.
“Everyone’s waiting for me,” she whispered brokenly. Forcing a smile, she blinked back the tears that threatened to fall and repeated Frankie’s words as she walked away. “You know where we’ll be.”