A Love Like Ours Read online

  He didn’t move or speak.

  Lyndie walked to Silver. Zoe gave her a leg up.

  It’s all right, Lyndie. He’ll be all right. The spectators lining the walking ring watched them pass. You can discuss everything that needs discussing with him after the race. The post parade before the grandstands went by in a blur. His past has made him overly concerned. That’s all. Except it didn’t feel like a small thing. Foreboding sat in her chest, a stark contrast to the cloudless and cheerful blue of the sky.

  Almost post time. She’d run out of time with Jake in the saddling paddock, and now she’d run out of time to obsess over him. She had a race to win. She couldn’t afford to be distracted. Determinedly, she positioned her goggles.

  Once they’d loaded Silver Leaf into the gate, she went into her routine. She ticked off the details she’d memorized and ran through a visualization—

  They were off. Exactly as she had the last time, Lyndie let Silver Leaf set his own pace out of the gate while most of the field charged past. Wind whipped against her face. She narrowed her concentration and poured everything she’d ever learned, everything she sensed about Silver Leaf, every drop of her God-given talent into her ride.

  Seamlessly, Silver Leaf ran. Perfect fluidity. Astonishing power. The front runners had more distance on them than they had in the previous race, so Lyndie decided to ask Silver to open up his speed earlier than she had the time before. He answered instantaneously.

  Down the final stretch, Silver tracked and passed his competitors mercilessly until only one horse remained in front of them. Lyndie urged Silver to give her a fresh burst of speed, but this time, he didn’t respond. She could feel him tiring.

  Great horses seemed to know exactly where the wire had been positioned, a fact doubly true of Silver Leaf. The moment he’d passed the wire in second place, he slowed without Lyndie having to offer him direction.

  Lyndie’s muscles relaxed even as her thoughts started to spin. Had she made a mistake, asking him to sprint as early as she had? It could be that she’d forced Silver out of his preference just enough that she’d caused him to struggle. She may have used all his gas too early.

  Or it may be that he’d simply had less gas today. Based on all she knew about Silver and on how the race had unfolded, she’d thought she’d made her move at the perfect time. If Silver had had his usual amount of energy in reserve, they’d have come away with the victory. But he hadn’t had the same amount of stamina today, probably because of his recent illness. Sometimes the subtle effects of sickness lingered even after a horse returned to health. Silver probably just needed a few more weeks to regain his best form.

  Lyndie stroked Silver’s neck. He’d still run a highly impressive race. Second was nothing to sneeze at against a tough field. Everyone who’d bet on Silver to place would still earn money. It’s just that . . . Lyndie couldn’t help feeling slightly let down. She’d wanted another victory for the horse she loved, trained by the man she loved. In the saddling paddock, she’d told Jake that Silver would win. She hadn’t delivered.

  She guided the horse toward Zoe, telling herself that she was being harder on herself than Jake would be. He was a very fair trainer. Her ride had been strong enough to please him, surely.

  When he didn’t meet her after the race, however, Lyndie’s optimism began to crumble. She did her best to converse with Meg and Bo, who were both more than satisfied with Silver’s performance and hers.

  Zoe escorted Silver to the testing barn. Lyndie did the required post-race weigh-in, then stood alone near the entrance to the jockey’s room. She didn’t want to go inside and accidentally miss Jake. He might come around the corner at any moment, after all.

  Ten minutes passed. Then ten more. She finally had to admit to herself that he wasn’t coming. Swallowing her disappointment, she made her way indoors.

  The other jockeys and their valets tossed congratulations to her as she passed. Their kind words slid off her without penetrating. “Thanks.” She gave them her best imitation of a genuine smile. “Thanks, everyone.”

  Something was very wrong with Jake, otherwise he would have spoken with her post-race.

  She showered and pulled on the clothes she’d packed: an ivory top, hoop earrings, fitted jeans. Then she dried her hair, loaded her tack into her bag, and took off in search of Jake.

  She checked the clubhouse and the other public areas first. When she came up empty, she walked to her Jeep. She half-expected that he’d left Lone Star’s property. Thus, when she pulled up to their barn on the backstretch, it came as a slight surprise to find his truck in its usual spot.

  She parked and sat for a moment, her hands stacked on top of the steering wheel. Seeing as how he’d remained here at the track, it seemed to her that he could have troubled himself to put in an appearance after the race. For Meg and Bo’s sake. For Silver Leaf’s. For hers.

  She did not understand him. What had kept him from coming? She couldn’t imagine what had gone awry in his heart or his head either before the race, when he’d been so grim, or after when he’d deserted her and let her worry herself into a fret over him. Clearly, though, something had gone awry. She’d do well to tread carefully. He was wounded—

  He was a grown man! His woundedness wasn’t going to serve as an excuse for bad behavior for the rest of his life. She scrunched her eyes closed and prayed for God’s peace and wisdom. But, honestly, as she let herself into the barn, she did not feel peaceful or wise. She only felt upset and confused and fearful and in need of straight answers.

  No one occupied the shed row but a groom, which meant that she’d find Jake in the barn’s small office. She went to it and yanked open its door.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Jake sat at the desk. He had his computer, a stack of papers, and the condition book in front of him. He still wore his black Stetson. Beneath it, he leveled a stare at her, his long-lashed hazel eyes every bit as hostile and remote as they’d been when she’d left him at the saddling paddock.

  Lyndie stopped just inside the small room’s threshold. He was doing paperwork? Her frustration mounted. “Silver Leaf placed.”

  “I know.”

  “Did you watch the race?”

  He nodded, once.

  “From where?”

  “A TV monitor inside the clubhouse.”

  “Why didn’t you watch with Meg and Bo? Why didn’t you meet us after the race?”

  He pushed to his feet and took her measure for a long stretch of time that crackled with unspoken emotions. “You’re fired.” He spoke the two words with deadly finality.

  Shock thudded into her. It took her a few moments to begin to process what he’d said and to find her voice. “What?”

  “You’re fired.”

  Fired? She loved and trusted him, and he was firing her? “Why?”

  “You made your move too early. You cost Silver Leaf the win today.”

  Every word pierced her like an arrow. Physical arrows would have been less painful. What—what had happened to his belief in her? Was he going to turn on her because of one small mistake? That he’d even think of doing so felt like a betrayal.

  “I’ve been replaying the race over and over in my mind,” she said, her words slightly uneven as she fought for composure. “According to my instincts, I made my move at exactly the right time. It’s true, though, that I might have been too early. If I was, I’m very sorry. I wanted a win today as much as anyone.”

  His expression remained steely.

  “Please believe me when I tell you,” she went on, “that Silver wasn’t at full strength today. He didn’t have the same amount of power in reserve that he’s had in the past. His illness must have taken more out of him than we realized.”

  “Enough. We’re done here.”

  She drew tall. “No. We’re definitely not done.”

  “Just go.”

  Her lungs tightened. Her hands trembled. Anger and indignation swirled within her like fire. She wanted back the m
an who’d held her in his arms last night and watched over her sister while she’d slept. She didn’t understand how he could turn off his kindness like a tap. She’d never been like that. Her emotions ran deep and true and transparent—

  See him, Lyndie. Take a moment and calm down enough to really see him. Everything Jake had shown her about himself assured her that his emotions ran deep and true, too. Not transparent. But deep and true. He’d shut himself away from her, yes. But that didn’t have to mean that his feelings for her had changed.

  Color stained Jake’s cheeks, making his scar more pale and vicious. She’d learned to look past all his defenses, and right now, she could see that there were things he wasn’t telling her. “Today’s race isn’t the only reason you’re angry, is it?”

  He scowled at her with something that almost looked like rebellion.

  Think, Lyndie. He’d been troubled even before she climbed aboard Silver Leaf. “Are you angry because I convinced you to run Silver Leaf when you wanted to scratch him?”

  “No.”

  She didn’t wholly believe him. “Does this have anything to do with my sister?” At the pizza place he’d told her that he didn’t want her to ride because of Mollie.

  “No.”

  “Then what? What’s changed between last night and today?”

  He was unbending and starkly beautiful, and his eyes gleamed with that awful haunted coldness again. No! She couldn’t bear the thought of him backsliding. But she didn’t know how to stop it or how to get through to him. Shake him? Kiss him?

  The expression on his face warned her to keep her distance.

  “Tell me, Jake. Please.” Her voice cracked. The small show of weakness infuriated her. “We can salvage this, I promise you, if you’ll only have faith in me.”

  “I told you everything you need to know when you walked in the door. I’m firing you because you’re not a good enough rider. I gave you a try. It didn’t work out.”

  Horrible silence descended. Tears rushed to the backs of her eyes. It crushed her, that he didn’t think she was good enough. Him, the person in this industry that she most respected and cared for. “Meg won’t let you fire me,” she managed to say.

  “It’s not Meg’s decision. In this barn I’m the one who decides. And I’ve made up my mind.”

  “She and Bo support me as Silver Leaf’s jockey.”

  “If Meg and Bo have a problem with the way I run things, they can take it up with me.”

  “Jake,” she whispered.

  He did not soften. If anything, his body language grew even more defensive.

  Why was he doing this? Why would he ruin everything they’d slowly built? She loved him, but she could no longer see any vestige of love in his face for her. God, she cried out in her mind. Jake had hurt her and slashed her hopes and on top of all that, he’d made her mad. Spitting mad.

  He’d mastered the glare, but he wasn’t the only one. She gave him a glare of her own, then slammed the office door behind her.

  ———

  Jake sank onto his desk chair, immediately hunching over and burying his face in his hands. The exchange with Lyndie had cost him, had drained the strength from his muscles. He hadn’t known if he could make it through. If it had gone on one minute longer, he wouldn’t have been able to.

  Water pushed hard against his eyelids. He tried with all he had to focus on inhaling, exhaling, inhaling. He didn’t know which was worse, the grief or the despair.

  Why had she come back into his life at all? Why did she have to be so stupidly optimistic? So brave? He didn’t want any more good, brave people in his life. The good and the brave ones died.

  He’d known since four o’clock this morning that he should scratch Silver Leaf, but he’d convinced himself of his own instability and he’d let her ride.

  He’d had to put up a wall between himself and her in his mind, there in the saddling paddock, just to survive. Even so, honest to God, he’d almost lost it inside the clubhouse. He’d stood as far as he could get from the TV during her race, his hand on the handle of a door, almost half-out of the building. In those moments he had hated himself for not following his own instincts and taking her out of the race.

  She thought he was furious with her. The truth? He was furious with himself.

  “Tell me, Jake. Please. We can salvage this, I promise you, if you’ll only have faith in me.”

  He’d wanted to tell her that he was the one who couldn’t handle her jockeying, that he’d rather die than let her injure herself on his watch. But he hadn’t told her, because he was ashamed and because . . . because part of him had feared that she might actually accept the truth, and him. Her heart was so big and generous that perhaps she’d have loved him anyway.

  When it had come down to it just now, he’d been unable to take that chance. It wasn’t right, that he should live his life with Lyndie while his men lay rotting in their caskets. He couldn’t justify it in his mind. In some sick way, his devastation in this moment felt fair to him. Like he’d evened the score and gotten what he deserved.

  He’d told her she wasn’t good enough at riding because he’d known it would wound her and end the conversation as quickly as it could be ended. She’d asked Silver Leaf for more speed earlier than she had in his prior race, but today that’s exactly what the situation had called for. If she hadn’t gone when she did, Silver Leaf would have finished far lower in the ranking. He’d watched every moment of the race, and he’d read Silver Leaf’s performance the same way she had. The horse had not had the same amount of speed today. Given that, she’d ridden him perfectly. He didn’t care that Silver Leaf had finished second instead of first.

  He only cared that his lies had done what he’d meant them to do. They’d broken his relationship with Lyndie permanently. He’d succeeded at that, at least. He’d done an excellent job at cutting himself off from the one thing on earth he treasured most. And if he had to do it over, he’d do the same thing again.

  Let Bo or his foreman or his employees or any of the commentators or reporters give him hell about firing her. It didn’t matter to him now.

  Lyndie was safe. And so long as she was somewhere in the world, protected and whole, then he could find a way to live with himself.

  He would not risk her again. Not for any price. Lyndie would never again ride one of his horses, not so long as he had breath in his lungs.

  Late that night, Will McGrath paced from his living room into his entry room and back. It was 10:52. He knew this because he’d been staring at his watch.

  When his oldest, Madison, had turned sixteen and earned her driver’s license, he’d set up strict ground rules. One of them: She had a curfew of eleven o’clock on Friday and Saturday nights. Another: She had to keep her cell phone with her so that he could reach her.

  She usually came in well before eleven. Sometimes alone, sometimes with a girlfriend or two who’d then spend the night. She always answered her cell the minute he called.

  Tonight, he’d first tried calling her at 10:30, just to check on her and make sure she was heading home. She hadn’t answered that call or the five he’d placed since then.

  Why wouldn’t she be answering her phone? She was a sixteen-year-old girl. Her phone was practically glued to her palm. He couldn’t think of any reason why she wouldn’t be answering it, other than that she’d been in a car wreck.

  Just the mental picture of that sent icy fear through him. He’d taught her to drive defensively and given her many, many warnings. She’d proven herself trustworthy every step of the way, so he’d increased her freedom more and more. Even so, she was a very young, very new driver.

  It didn’t help that as a fireman, he often arrived at the scene of car wrecks. He’d worked hundreds that had involved teenagers. Some of the worst wrecks rolled through his mind.

  If anything happened to her . . .

  Car headlights cut through the living room. He went to the window and saw her 2008 Volvo coming up the driveway. Thank God
. He exhaled with relief and checked his watch. 10:58. He’d been pretty close to a heart attack for the past thirty minutes. But in the time it took Madison to park in the attached garage and let herself inside, his blood pressure began to lower.

  He waited for her in the kitchen.

  “Hi, Dad.” She set her little purse on the kitchen counter and went to the fridge for one of the pomegranate Izze sodas he kept stocked for her. “Where’s Tay?”

  “In her room reading a book. Did your phone run out of battery?”

  “Huh? No.” She popped the cap off the bottle and eyed him with confusion as she took a drink.

  He held up his phone. “I’ve been trying to call.”

  “Really?” She pulled her phone from her purse. “Wow. Six times, Dad?”

  “Why didn’t you answer?”

  She did a three-second diagnostic on her phone. “Oh, no volume. Hannah was playing a game on it earlier. She must have muted it. Sorry about that.”

  “I was worried.”

  “O-kay,” she said slowly, giving him a look that said she thought he was overreacting by a mile. “It wasn’t my fault.”

  “It was, because you didn’t make sure your volume was up when Hannah gave you back your phone.”

  “Am I in trouble? Because I already said I was sorry.”

  He ground his teeth together. He wanted to punish her for making him worry, and at the same time recognized that her most serious crime had been failing to notice that her friend had silenced her phone. With two teenaged girls in the house, he’d learned to pick his battles. He leaned back against the kitchen counter, bracing his hands against its edge.

  Madison stared at him in a way that she rarely did these days, as if really noticing things about him. “It might be time for you to . . . don’t be offended, okay?” Whenever she said that, he could bet he’d be offended. “It might be time for you to, um, have a social life of your own.”

  He lifted his eyebrows and felt his forehead creasing.

  “Just sayin’.” She shrugged. “I mean, I’m glad you didn’t do a lot of dating when Tay and I were younger. It would’ve been really awkward and gross if you’d brought tons of women around here.”