Page 24 of Training the Heart

I just nod in response, because when Wade’s voice hits that deep octave I just have no words and there’s no room to argue. We begin our drive, and my feet in his lap make me nervous so I start to tell him what happened.

“There was no thunder the whole ride. I saw the lightning as I was just getting back to the barn, but it was too late. I couldn’t dismount fast enough, Cosmic spooked, and I just landed funny on my ankle trying to hurry to get off him. I don’t know how I managed to get him secure but I did it and then … I started walking. It took me a while. Maybe a half hour to get back to the cabin. I figured you’d be home.”

“I had to go to my ex’s for something—you should’ve called me.” His jaw sets and flexes. I can tell he’s upset with me.

I huff out a breath in response and toss my damp hair into a bun on top of my head.

“I didn’t bring my phone. Once I realized you weren’t here, I was just taking a minute to rest on your porch and then I was going to go back to my cabin and try to sleep, see how it was in the morning. It was just careless all around. I’m really so sorry for all of this,” I say, feeling so damn stupid and irresponsible.

The dark country cruises by us as I continue, looking out the front window.

“I like to ride in the rain. I used to do it with my dad, it was kind of our thing,” I say, because I feel like him driving me to the hospital forty minutes away at ten at night seems like it may need a deeper explanation.

“Did you have your own ranch?” he asks right away.

I answer, grateful for the distraction. “No, but we had a small house on about ten acres. My dad bought my sister and I our own horses. He loved animals.”

Wade’s eyes are fixed out the window on the rainy countryside.

“I’m really sorry you lost him. That must have been so hard at that age,” he says.

The lump in my throat grows and tears sting my eyes. I swallow down the urge to cry.

“It’s been a long time since anyone has ever said that to me. Even when he died, I don’t think I heard it much,” I say quietly.

“Why not?” Wade asks, sounding even more frustrated than normal.

I look over at him to try to gage his mood, to see if this is his way of distracting me from the pain or if he’s truly interested. It’s impossible to tell so I take a deep breath and tell him a little bit of the story.

“After my dad died, my mom went off the rails, daily glasses of wine turned into bottles and eventually we just lost our family nest-egg. The horses, the land, the house, she couldn’t pay for it. By the time I was sixteen, Winding Eagles trailer park became our home.”

Wade is silent beside me as his jaw tenses while he stares out the windshield, focused on the rain.

“I went from grieving my best friend to becoming my mother’s babysitter of sorts, I guess, my little sister’s caregiver, and then eventually, both of their financial support. I worked two jobs after school until Cassie was old enough to start working and contribute. My mom worked odd jobs for a while. The depression she fought after my dad died just consumed her.”

Something in Wade’s face softens.

“My mother isn’t a bad person. She has the biggest heart but my dad was the love of her life. It was like her will to live was lost. She fell into the darkest hole and just couldn’t or wouldn’t come out.”

“I know that loss. My mom says a piece of her died with my father,” Wade offers.

I nod in response.

“Some people are just stronger than others. Your mom is such a strong woman, I admire her,” I say truthfully. “She didn’t cower when her husband died, she took care of his family. I didn’t know her before but it seems like maybe somehow she grew stronger.”

“She has her moments but she is a tough cookie, I’ll give her that. She’s also kind of a control freak, she’d want to make sure us kids were all okay,” Wade adds.

I giggle. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree then, is what you’re saying.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’m the most easygoing guy around.” Wade says it so seriously it makes me grin. “You’re not going to call me on my bullshit, Trouble?” he asks.

“I’ll give you a break since you’re driving me to the hospital.” I smile, then add, “But only this once.”

Wade nods, back to serious.

“Fair enough. So, what now?” He continues, “Is there a chance for your mom to get sober, maybe start fresh?”

I turn to look out the window.I wish for that every day.

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