Last Second Chance (10 page)

He shrugged and gave her the obvious answer. “Getting high. Getting the hell out of here.”

She wrote something down quickly before raising her eyes to meet his. “That all?”

He shrugged again and took a long look around the room. Bookshelves full of thick books, probably about why fuck-ups like him did what they did. Shiny degrees in expensive wooden frames perfectly lined up along the walls. Everything perfect, even, and in its place. He was the one thing that didn’t belong. Just like he didn’t belong in a world with someone as beautiful and graceful as Stella Jo Chandler.

He inhaled and took a moment to appreciate the scent of the leather. Which reminded him of the riding crop and the saddles down at the barn. Which reminded him of Stella Jo Chandler.

His hands tightened on his knees and he returned his gaze to the doctor. Despite the attractive blonde sitting in close proximity, it was a brunette who might as well have been a million miles away who prompted him to speak.

He wouldn’t ruin this for her, this place where she finally felt at home. But he would do his best to let go of some of the darkness he carried so that when he got out of here, he could maybe, just maybe, be worthy of at least getting to know her.

“No, that’s not all,” he said evenly. “When I’m alone, sober, and it’s quiet, I can’t sleep because…because all I can think of is
her
.”

The office around him ceased to exist—the books and the framed degrees disappearing from his view. The screams and pleas rose in his mind. An unforgiving wind whipped in his ears while heavy metal chains clanked against one another, almost drowning the doctor’s response. He stood on the riverbank, helpless under an overcast sky.

“Her, who? Mr. Ransom? Mr. Ransom, can you hear me?”

He could hear her, but he couldn’t respond. He was unearthing the memory the same way they’d dragged up her body—slowly and steadily, feeling every excruciating moment.

The storm grew in his soul as he met the doctor’s worried eyes.

“The woman I couldn’t save. The one I watched die.”

Dr. McLendon shook her head. “I don’t understand. What woman? There’s no mention of a woman in your chart or in the—”

“There wouldn’t be.” He stared at his hands, clawing his way back to the present. They were trembling so hard it was like they were vibrating. “No one knows about Val. Not my manager, not anyone.”

“Val was your…”

“Sister,” he informed her quietly.

“I see,” she said, setting her notebook aside and relaxing into her chair. “How long ago did she—”

“It’ll be ten years this summer. I was sixteen. It was her nineteenth birthday.”

She nodded. “I don’t want to push you. Just tell me as much as you’re comfortable sharing and stop when you need to.”

She was using kid gloves on him. Maybe he should’ve appreciated that, but for some reason, it only added fuel to his already raging fire.

“As much as I’m comfortable sharing?” He glared at her, standing and spreading his arms wide. “Do I fucking look
comfortable
to you?”

Her eyes widened but she kept her composure. “Fine. Then tell me what makes you uncomfortable. Push yourself until you can’t. You’re safe here.”

He huffed out a harsh breath. “Safe. Right.” He shook his head and turned to the door. “I can’t do this right now. I’ll destroy this whole fucking room. You’ve got a lot of breakable shit in here, Doc.”

People said that the truth would set him free. Those people were wrong. The truth was that he’d failed the one person who’d protected him, who’d saved him. Lost her in the darkness. And no matter what he did, even if he adopted a dozen children from third- world countries, donated all of his money to charity, and lived the rest of his life as a monk, there was no escaping the truth.

She’d never hurt a soul. She’d been good and perfect and kind. The world had been a better place when she was in it. But now she was gone. And he was here, still damaging and destroying. It was the most fucked-up injustice he knew of.

“Van,” a female voice said so softly he barely heard it. He didn’t know if it was the doctor who’d spoken or the ghost in his head, but he didn’t stop either way. He walked out of her office and right out of the building.

H
er first day off since starting her new job and Stella Jo found herself working anyway. She suspected this would be hard to avoid since she lived where she worked.

She’d made a trip to the local bath and bed store and bought a few things for her small place and taken a three-mile jog around the property before giving in and checking on the horses. Well, mostly on Shadowdancer. Van had spooked him the night before, and she wanted to make sure she hadn’t completely lost his trust.

The hollow chill she’d tried to shake off the night before still remained. She hoped some time with the big warm bodies and beating hearts in the stables would help.

Surprisingly, Shadowdancer’s dark, oblong head was poking out of his stall as if he was waiting for her.

“Well hello there, handsome. You still mad at me?” She scooped up a handful of sweet feed from the barrel and offered it to him. He took it readily, keeping his eyes on her as he did.

After she’d loved on him and checked on the others, she wiped her dusty hands on her shorts. Shadowdancer’s saddle sat on the ledge between his stall and the empty one that separated him and Mother Maybelle. Running her hand along the rich, worn leather, she let herself remember for just a little while. What it was like to ride, that moment in the final stretch when it felt like they were one, like she and Angel’s Breath were flying. It was the only time she’d felt truly alive.

“What did you mean when you said you’d never felt wanted before?”

His voice startled her and her hand jerked, knocking the saddle onto the floor. Shadowdancer huffed and snorted beside her.

“God. You scared me. You’ve got to stop sneaking up on me—”

“Tell me what you meant, Stella Jo.”

Her blood warmed from the heat in his tone, purging the bone-chilling cold and making her body feel as if flames were consuming it. She swallowed hard as she righted the saddle and turned to face him. Her breath caught when she saw him. The shirt and jeans he was wearing accented his ample muscles perfectly, but that wasn’t what left her breathless.

His eyes were practically glowing, his fists clenched at his sides, and barely contained rage radiated from where he stood.

“What’s wrong?” She took a tentative step in his direction. “What happened?”

Her words were gasoline on his embers. Sparks flew as they both stepped into the charged space between them.

“She left. She fucking left me. That’s what happened.”

Stella Jo had absolutely no idea what or who he was talking about. But his confession seemed to break him. His head fell forward and a sob racked his broad shoulders. His pain bled into her, pulled her closer to him and she gave him everything she had to give.

“Who left you, Van?” Reaching out gently, just as she had done with Shadowdancer, she allowed her fingertips to stroke the short, dark stubble on his jaw. He was rough where she was smooth, and touching him that way, intimately on his face, sent a shiver through her.

His intense gaze met hers, and they were connected in that moment in a way she’d only ever felt with horses. She didn’t see Van Ransom’s face, his tattoos, or the anger he carried. She looked at him with her heart. And she saw his soul.

It was as dark as the short black hair on his head. Bruised and beautiful.

She had no idea how anyone could ever leave him. She couldn’t have pulled away from him in that moment if her life had depended on it.

Instead of answering her question, he gave a gentle shake of his head.

“Stella.” Her name was a breath, a plea, a confession of a deep-seated need she had no idea if she could fulfill. She was instantly seized with terror. She’d failed her family. Failed to be what they needed. What if she failed him? Couldn’t give him what he needed and made everything worse?

“I don’t know how to do this.” She pulled her hand away, but he grabbed her wrist and yanked her roughly to him.

“What
do
you know how to do, Stella Jo? Hide down here with the livestock? How’s that working for you?”

Her eyes narrowed. He made her angry. Made her feel things she had no idea how to feel or process. But with his pain still so close to the surface, she couldn’t bring herself to push him away. So she did the only thing she could do. She told him the truth.

“Horses can be broken. You can’t.”

“Can’t I?” He released his hold on her wrist, but neither of them moved. “Feels like I can. Feels like you break me a little more every time I come near you.”

She shook her head. “What do you want from me?”

“I don’t know.” Mercifully, he backed up a step and gave her some space to breathe. The reprieve gave her a second to think logically. “But I do know that five minutes ago I was sitting in a room with a stranger spilling my guts and the only person I actually wanted to talk to was you.”

Logic flew right out of Stella’s grasp. He needed her. It was a heady and addicting sensation. This powerful man with the world at his fingertips needed
her.
And she didn’t know why or how or what it meant, but she needed him right back.

The ground gave way beneath her as she made her way toward him. “The first step in breaking a horse is gaining its trust,” she whispered. “Can you trust, Van? Could you ever trust me?”

Pulling her in his arms, he rested his forehead on hers and closed his eyes. She took advantage of the moment to admire his long, thick lashes and his raw beauty up close.

“I could try,” he rasped.

“Ahem.” The sound of someone’s throat clearing nearby sent them both backward. “Don’t mind me. I just came by to drop off the feed.”

Every single cell in Stella’s body jolted as if she’d been hit with a live wire while soaking wet. Her face went numb, assaulted by thousands of invisible needles. The fleeting fear that she might be going into shock raced across her mind.

Jesse Ramirez leaned in the entryway. His eyes met Stella’s and he raised a questioning brow but said nothing as he carried feedbags into the storage stall.

“Here. I’ll give you a hand with that,” Van offered, moving away from her.

When they finished, she was standing awkwardly by Shadowdancer.

Jesse thanked Van for the help and turned to face her. “Stella, can I talk to you privately for a moment?”

I am so fired.
Fear stole her hold on her center of gravity as she took carefully measured steps toward where his truck was parked. She could feel Van’s steady gaze on her but she didn’t so much as look in his direction. Not that it much mattered now. He’d seen them.

She wasn’t sure if Jesse had the power to fire her, but she knew he would be completely justified in reporting what he’d witnessed to his father, which would almost certainly lead to her termination.

And then… She didn’t even want to think about it. She’d have nothing. Just a cold home to return to with her tail between her legs because she’d screwed up. Her mother had been right. She couldn’t make it on her own.

“What you saw in there… Um, I don’t exactly know what to say about that,” she began.

Jesse’s hazel eyes went wide as he put a hand up between them. “Look, it’s really none of my business. I just wanted to tell you to be careful and make sure that you were okay.”

“I’m fine. And thank you.” She smiled gratefully. “I wish I could say it wasn’t what it looked like, but I don’t know what it looked like. And I don’t exactly know what it was. Maybe it was nothing.”

Jesse gave her a small smile and tipped his cowboy hat. “I’m no expert, darlin’. But I think we both know it was something.”

She nodded, trying her best to ignore her racing pulse. If Jesse hadn’t interrupted them, she had no idea what would’ve happened. But she could guess. And fantasize.

Before her heated imagination ran away with her, she glanced over her shoulder to check that Van was still out of hearing range.

“I know you probably think I’m like all of the other women here, wanting a piece of Mr. Rock Star. But I promise, even though I don’t know what it is exactly… I want you to know it’s not like that.”