Page 28 of Training the Heart

“Fuck, you weren’t kidding. Did that hurt you?”

“No, just feeling highly and completely awkward, other than that I’m good.” She grins as the words come out honestly. “I just need some more practice with the crutches.”

“You’ll get used to them, but maybe don’t move around much when I’m not here, don’t need you taking out the other ankle,” I say. It comes out sounding more annoyed than anything, but fuck, in my defense I’m trying to will my cock to stand down and right now that’s not an easy task with her sitting there looking like a goddamn snack in my clothes.

Five minutes later, she’s actually in the bed, ankle elevated, and covered.

I nod once. “You good?” I ask, trying to sound casual.

“Yes, very. This bed feels dreamy.” She smiles. I don’t tell her it’s the same bed she has in her own cabin, I just shut her lamp off. She yawns, her mouth forming a perfect little O.

“You missed your calling, should’ve been a personal support worker,” she says quietly. “Quick on the draw … good reflexes …” she says like she’s counting off my qualities on her fingers.

I nod, trying to forget what it felt like to hover over her.

“Call if you need me,” I say simply as I pull the door closed behind me.

“Night, Chief.”

I make my way to the kitchen, and pour myself a stiff bourbon. I take a moment to breathe after all that. The last thing I expected when I woke up this morning was that Ivy would be sleeping down the hall from me tonight. I bring my drink to my lips, and as I do, I realize somewhere in the midst of all that brushing and hair drying, I ended up with another one of Ivy’s scrunchies on my wrist. I shake my head and toss it in the basket, adding it to my growing collection.

Then, I get right to work.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Ivy

“So, what are you saying?” Brad looks at me from our kitchen table, cell phone still to his ear, cowboy hat on his knee. He was having an early lunch when I came through the door from my appointment. In truth, my appointment was over hours ago but I just drove aimlessly after that, registering. I sniff and take a tissue to the kitchen window. Looking out at the pastures I love so much, I try to absorb the news the doctor just unloaded on me today.

“Dr. Marshall says I will have a hard time because my uterus isn’t exactly hospitable. My cervix seems like it may just be too short to carry a baby to term. He said I should go on good birth control, to regulate my periods better.” I’m tired of crying. I’ve been crying all day, since I was told this news. “I thought you’d be happy,” I say to Brad as he sits, quietly nodding.

“You know how I feel about kids. But I’m not happyyoucan’t have kids, Ivy. Just more relieved it’s not in the cards for me when it wasn’t in my plan. And you should go on birth control. I’ve been telling you that for two years,” he says.

I flinch at his words as reality smacks me in the chest for thehundredth time. Always about what he feels, never about me, ever.

“Brad, I haven’t even processed this yet, and I never wanted to take birth control. You know how I feel about messing with the natural order of things. But for now, I will. I’d be scared to get pregnant if it’s not possible for me to carry a child,” I say, feeling the tears welling up again, my body wishing, begging for him to come to me, wrap his arms around me and tell me it will all be okay. That he loves me enough anyway. That I’m still worth it.

“I’m sorry,” I offer, looking for the common ground between us, knowing it’s not my fault but still feeling the need to apologize.

“Hey, it works out good that we’re together. Another man might be heartbroken over this.” His comment isn’t snide, but it still makes me feel worse all the same, and my heart shatters even more.

Brad looks up at me, no emotion on his face, and he says nothing. Five minutes passes, me looking out the window with my tears, Brad still sitting on hold on the phone.

“Uh, I’m gonna go for a drive, clear my head. Is there anything you need?” he asks.

Affection? Understanding? Love?the voice in my head screams.

“No.” I sniff. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay … and don’t worry, honey, I’m the kind of guy who sticks things out, okay? Even through things like this. See why we’re meant to be?” He smiles. “This is a lot for you to deal with, we’ll go out for dinner tonight.I feel like Mexican anyway, Shafer was just talking about that new place on Baxter Street …”

I block out the rest of his rambling. That’s the last thing I feel like doing, but I nod anyway robotically.

“… but I’ll be back. I just need some time, fresh air,” hefinishes awkwardly as he grips the front door handle. The only thing I got from anything he said was that it was a lot formeto handle.Notus. Me. Brad says nothing more as the person he’s on hold for comes on the line. His face goes blank as he swings the door open.

“Rick, I’m great, buddy, how are you?” He chuckles as the front door closes behind him like it’s any other day. The moment I hear his truck fire up I let the tears consume me.

I open one eye, expecting to see my own cabin ceiling, then smother a tiny cry as I stretch.Right, ankle, pain. Shit.

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