Chapter Six
brEANNA
THE WORLD freezes around me, frosting my insides, as I come face to face with the man who ripped my heart from my chest and stomped on it ten years ago. I clench my back teeth and try to lock down all the emotions bubbling to the top, keeping my face impassive.
So many memories flood my mind, pushing the air from my lungs. Memories I forced into the furthest corner of my mind. Nights under the stars, wrapped in his arms. Our first kiss. That hot summer when I gave him everything while never once doubting my trust in him. Losing our baby.
He’s so much bigger than he was when he left.
He always had a long, lean physique, with some muscle definition here and there, but the outline of his pecs under his t-shirt is obvious and his biceps are stretching his sleeves.
He even looks taller, over six feet, but it might be his remarkably broad shoulders creating the illusion.
All his hair is gone. Before he left, he wore it long in the traditional Native American style, they probably shaved it all off when he enlisted.
Watching the shiny black strands fall through my fingers back then was something I did often, it sometimes looked blue in different light.
It’s to his shoulders now and flips up at the ends.
Anger courses through my veins as we stare at each other.
Who the hell does he think he is? How dare he come back here.
After ten years, I thought I was safe from ever seeing him again, that maybe after he snuck out of town with his tail between his legs, he would be too ashamed to show his face again.
I guess even dumb dogs come back home.
“Hey, Breanna. How are you?” His deep voice is muffled behind the swish of blood pumping fast behind my ears. His eyes are full of emotion, just like when he used to look at me and tell me he loved me.
Liar.
He stole all my firsts, and I just gave him everything like a stupid girl with hearts in her eyes.
Fuck him.
I’m not that stupid little girl anymore.
Remembering that my father and brothers are in the room, I tear my eyes from Mato to scan their faces; they are all looking at me like I have two heads. Taking a breath and clearing my throat, I face Mato and give him a friendly “Hey.”
Without another word, I walk through the kitchen and out the back door, pulling the bill of my ball cap a little lower.
I’m here to check on Frost, not walk down memory lane.
I don’t care about the asshole in my family’s kitchen.
But it pisses me off that my hands are shaking and my breaths are coming so fast. I don’t want to have that kind of reaction to him.
Horses shuffle nervously in their stalls when I stomp across the threshold into the stables, and I force myself to stop and relax. Closing my eyes to take a few deep breaths as I roll my head from one shoulder to the other, I shake my hands out at my sides.
Needing to redirect these feelings where they should be, I breathe in through my nose and slowly let it out through my mouth. The last thing I want is to get caught in the undertow of the heartbreak I felt ten years ago.
“Breanna.” The familiar velvety bass of his voice wraps around me like silk, and I swallow around the suffocating lump in my throat.
I won’t do this again.
Just get it over with. Let him say whatever eases his conscience and walk away.
Turning to face him, I shove my hands in the pockets of my jean jacket I wear for work to hide my trembling fingers. His deep brown eyes are almost pleading, which only makes me angrier.
Good. Anger is good.
“Mato.” I keep my voice flat, with no shakes. As much as I want to ask him what he’s doing here, I refrain and level him with a stare.
He takes a step toward me, and he lifts his hand, like it’s muscle memory to reach for me. When I take a step away from him, he quickly drops his hand back to his side. I don’t want him to touch me.
His gaze moves over my face as he slips his fingers in his jeans pockets. “How have you been?”
Not hiding my irritation that he followed me out here, I clear my throat with a slight shake of my head, eyebrows pinched. “I’m fine.”
His sharp Adam’s apple bobs with a swallow, and his brows furrow over his straight nose. “You’re still angry with me.” His face has filled out some, but for the most part, his angled jaw and full lips are still the same.
I’m more than angry.
He thinks the only thing that hurt was his leaving, and I suppress the huff of irritation that desperately wants to escape my nose.
Memories of vomiting in toilets all over campus, trying to focus on my studies while my heart was breaking, being exhausted even after a full night’s sleep, Kinley curled up behind me in my dorm bed, holding me as I sobbed into my pillow, all rush back to me.
I did all that alone. He did that to me - without a second thought.
Holding onto that anger and pain, I lick my lips that have suddenly become very dry and shrug my shoulders. “No worries, right?” The jab is slight, but it lands because his shoulders droop ever so slightly. I force a smile. “I’ve got a full day today, excuse me.”
Turning on my heel, I make my way to Frost’s stall, hoping he will leave. For a second, I think he might, but then I hear his heavy military boots on the floor behind me.
Pretending he’s not there, I observe the cream-colored mare in her stall, she got her name because of her shiny coat that looks like frost on a sunny morning. Her weight is distributed on all four legs, and her ears are up as she lifts her nose in welcome. This is good.
“Hey, girl.” I coo at her and lift the latch on her door, the comforting smell of hay, leather, and Frost’s earthy scent fills my nose. She huffs at me and presses her nose into my hand when I hold it out to her.
Frost has been Gray’s horse since I was a little girl, and even though he puts on a brave face when he talks about her age, I know he loves her, and it’s probably going to kill him when her time comes.
Hay crunches under my feet as I step into her stall to her side. She seems to be feeling better and watches me with curiosity instead of irritation.
Keeping my back to him, I can feel Mato behind me, standing in the doorway of the stall. I hate that I can still feel where he is next to me. After spending over half of my life with him, everything about him feels familiar, and I really fucking hate that.
“Breanna, can we talk for a minute, please?” In my periphery, he leans against the doorframe.
Running my hand down her back, I don’t stop my inspection for any flinches or movement under my hand. “Sure, go ahead.” My tone is flippant, and my focus is on any reaction I get from her as I feel around her hips and down her legs.
He sighs behind me. If he was hoping I would welcome him back with open arms, he’s got another damn thing coming. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive him.
Looking for a lead, my stomach drops when my search finds all of them hanging across the walkway on the wall outside the tack room. I have to pass by him to get one. Staying in my professional headspace, as I walk by him, I turn sideways and avoid eye contact. “Excuse me.”
He steps to the side so I can move past, and his cologne fills my nose, bringing back memories I’ve locked away for years, forming a lump in my throat.
Quickly grabbing one of the thick ropes from its spot on the wall, I turn back around to find he’s blocking the door to the stall, arms crossed over his chest.
Freezing into a staring standoff, I look into the eyes I used to love getting lost in. So many moments of my life were wasted surrendering to him. But for what? To be discarded.
Pressing my lips together as my anger pulls me further into my feelings, I push down all the things I want to say. Tilting my chin up, I lift my eyebrows in a dare. “Please move.”
Only a few seconds of his eyes moving between mine pass before he drops his arms and turns to the side so I can go back into the stall to clip the lead on Frost. She’s almost giddy as I walk with her to the paddock, watching her every move.
Mato falls in line behind me, too close behind me. “Fine. I’ll talk and you listen.”
Keeping my attention on Frost’s gait as we stroll in the paddock, I don’t bother answering him.
“I had every intention of calling you after I got to basic, Breanna, I swear I did.” He’s walking sideways next to me so he can see my face, his long legs pausing with my shorter, slower steps.
“Before I knew it, months of telling myself that you were better off without me turned into a year, and I just didn’t want to distract you from your studies. ”
Dipping my head to watch all four of Frost’s legs as she walks, the comment comes out before I think better of it. “Well, you know what they say, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.”
Turning my back to him, I walk Frost backward a few steps, watching her hips closely for any hitches or reactions, but there are none. Good.
“I picked up the phone to call you so many times, just to hear your voice.”
“And here we are.” The sun is bright, and that mixed with my anger is making me hot under my jean jacket, so I stop and take it off, tying the arms around my waist.
A soft sigh blends with the sounds of the birds singing. “You have to understand that I couldn’t spend my life living off your father’s generosity. I felt like a freeloader, and I couldn’t in good conscience expect your father to take me seriously if I asked him to let me marry you.”
We spoke frequently about getting married back then; it was just our logical next step. But hearing him say it so flippantly makes my stomach drop, like our dreams, which I took very seriously, were so easy to walk away from.
Taking a deep breath, I fight back the angry words I want so badly to unleash on him and continue taking care of Frost.
His hands drop to his sides in defeat. “I was hoping we could start with a clean slate. Maybe be friends.”