Page 20 of Blazing Hot Nights

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I closed my eyes and inhaled the smoky air through my nose. I was right. She ruined me.

Six

I struggled to climb the old ladder that I used to zip right up when I was a kid. Now it required careful placement of my feet and hand to make sure I didn’t fall and land flat on my head. I didn’t care how long it took, as long as I got away from Blaze. Now that I was sitting in the hay in the dark attic, I could hide away without his eyes staring into my soul.

I loved his eyes, though. By the light of the fire, they melted like chocolate. At least they finally had some life back in them. For too many years, those eyes had done nothing but look straight ahead. It didn’t matter what he was doing; they never flickered with any kind of life. They never thought about the future. It was always about the present for him after Callie died. That seemed to be changing finally.

I wished I could say the same. For me, it was always about the past. I lived there more than I should, I knew, but that’s where all the people I loved were. The present was unpleasant, and thinking about the future just reminded me that mine probably wouldn’t be on the same land my father had lived and died on.

I hugged my hand to my belly and snuggled into the blanket covering the hay. The barn had been my secret hideout since I was old enough to climb up here, and it still had all the comforts of home. With a pillow and a blanket over a bed of hay, I could read, listen to music, sleep, or hide from whatever work I didn’t want to do.

Tonight, I was hiding from the pain of wanting something I couldn’t have.

When I’d opened that box and stared down at the massager, I couldn’t breathe. Why was he so nice to me? Did he think if he gave me things that I’d just hand over my land out of gratitude?

That wasn’t why I was crying as I stared at it though. I was crying because no one—not Dawn, not Tex, no one—had ever given me something to ease the pain. Most of the time, the pain was nothing more than an annoying ache if I rode Grover too long or spent too much time bent over at the waist. Since the accident on the bridge, though, the pain had been unrelenting. The only time it felt slightly better was when his hands were on it, convincing the muscles to loosen their tight grip on my bones. The massager would probably take care of the problem if I used it for a week, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t accept it. I couldn’t trust Blaze McAwley with anything without risking this ranch. I already knew that. With Blaze, what you saw wasnotwhat you got.

I rested against the pillows and closed my eyes, inhaling the scent of hay and horses, my mind drifting off to the way those scents used to invigorate and excite me.

The roar of the crowd when I broke out onto the dusty sand and the feel of my horse’s muscles straining as he headed for the first barrel. He knew what to do, and I trusted him implicitly. Hit the first barrel then figure eight to the next barrel … it was about the rhythm of the horse and the connection we had as we darted around the arena. I was primed and ready to take the circuit by storm. Hell, I already had. I was in the junior championships and expected to take the gold. I had one more practice run before the competition, and I was going to use every last second to ensure my place on the podium. The sun was hot on my back, and the wind was warm as it tickled my cheeks. My concentration was on the animal under me. Raptor’s muscles rippled under my legs as he prepared himself for a romp he loved even more than me. He was born for this. “Let’s go, boy,” I said, giving his neck a pat and then pushing him into the arena. There was no crowd this early in the day, so the only sound was of his hooves and huffed breath as we approached that first barrel. I whooped with joy as he started the first turn and I leaned hard to the left to eke out every nanosecond of time off our run. A strange metal ping. Tipping. Pain. Screaming. Silence.

I shuddered and took a deep breath, forcing my eyes open at the same time I lifted my right hand to massage my left shoulder. The pain of that day roared back through me, and I bit back a whimper. I had been on the back of a horse my entire life and I had fallen more times than I could count, but that time was different. The pain of that fall was never far from my mind. Pain from the nerves. Pain from the busted bones. Pain from drawing a deep breath. I wasn’t sure I’d survive the pain, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Not when that practice run ended any chance of barrel riding again.

The video showed Raptor had come in too close to the barrel and clipped it. I was leaning too far out of the saddle and fell, landing on the rim of the metal barrel before I bounced off and hit the sand. The doctors said I had extensive damage to my brachial plexus nerves, and it would be a wait and see type of healing. To add insult to injury, I had also broken my elbow through the growth plate and fractured my scapula and collarbone. I may have only been twelve, but I wasn’t naïve. I knew my rodeo career was over, and it happened in the blink of an eye. Funny how life works that way. One minute you’re doing something you’ve done a thousand times and the next you’re in the dirt.

While I never competed in the rodeo again, I got back on a horse as soon as my arm healed. Daddy had picked up a new workhorse, and I named him Grover. Over time, he became my horse. He probably saved me, if I were honest. If it hadn’t been for Grover encouraging me to love him, groom him, and then ride him, I would probably still be curled up in a ball feeling sorry for myself. With the help of physical therapy and the work around the ranch, I recovered some use of my arm by the time I was fourteen. It wasn’t much, and the arm never grew again, but I could still help my daddy with chores. I found happiness and determination again in the idea that I could help save the property that had been in our family for generations. I held on tight to the idea that if I worked hard enough, I could overcome the hand I’d been dealt so early in life.

Then I fell off another horse five years ago. No, I had jumped off that horse without thinking and nothing had been the same since. Not physically. Not emotionally. No one could save me after that fall. Not the doctors. Not Grover. Not God. This was my living hell. A nightmare that I never woke up from. I carried this useless arm against my belly every day, the spasms a constant reminder of my failures in life. It was the reason I lost my friend, and in the end, would be the reason I lost the ranch my daddy loved so much. The ranch he died for. Life was never fair, but the Lanes always seemed to get more than their fair share of trials.

The barn door slid open, and I held my breath when the light came on below me. Blaze couldn’t see me up here, but he could hear me. I’d have to be silent until he left. I was surprised he was even looking for me. Why did he care? He should just get back in his UTV and drive away from me and my train wreck of a life. Nothing good would come from hanging around with me. He should know that by now.

“I know you’re in here, Heaven,” he called from below me. I could see him standing next to Beaker’s stall, his hands on his hips, hisWranglerstight across his backside, and his hat hanging from his fingers. Blaze was more than worthy of writing home about. Too bad I was already home. Too bad my home would one day be his if he had anything to say about it.

He could stand around all he wanted with his hands on his hips. I wasn’t showing my face again until he was gone. He tossed his arms up and clomped away, shutting off the lights. I released the breath I had been holding when he slid the barn door closed again.

Other than the rustling of my animals in the stalls below, I was alone. I curled up in a ball and pulled the blanket over me to my chin. I was going to have to wait for Dawn to get home now. I couldn’t get down the ladder with my arm the way it was. At least not alone. I’d need someone there to spot me just in case I slipped. That was just another thing that had changed recently. I used to be able to do whatever I wanted, even with only one working arm. Lately, my balance had gotten so bad that I could tip over if I didn’t think out everything I was doing before I did it. It was frustrating, especially when I had to start sitting down in the shower so I didn’t tip over. I should probably see a doctor, but I wasn’t spending money I didn’t have, and I didn’t have it.

Once she got home and helped me down, I’d have to go and put the fire out. I sighed. I had liked being a kid better. I had liked it when someone else was responsible for the adult stuff. Once I heard the UTV head back to Bison Ridge, I would call her on my cell and ask her to come home.

My heart ached. I tried not to think, but it wasn’t working. All I could do was think. Think about Blaze. Think about Callie. Think about what would become of Heavenly Lane. More than anything, I wanted the dark to let me forget about the scene I’d made in front of Blaze. Dammit. I had to get a grip. My emotions were out of control, and it was getting ridiculous. I couldn’t even blame it on PMS.

“My ears work better than you give them credit for, angel,” Blaze said as his head and shoulders rose up into my space.

I closed my eyes and rolled into a tighter ball, even though I knew it was useless. He had found me instead of leaving me to wallow in my self-pity alone.

“Can’t a girl just have a moment?” I asked, my voice resigned.

“Not when I’m around.”

“No kidding,” I muttered.

He climbed up next to me, setting one of the old battery-powered lanterns down next to him and turning it on. He handed me a handkerchief, which I reluctantly accepted and wiped my tears from my face.

“Thanks,” I whispered. “I’m fine. You can go home now.”

Blaze clasped his arms around his knees and stared me down. It was unnerving to have him in my personal space like this. Not to mention, the old hayloft was a tight nook, and with him in it, it was overflowing. He was a giant in a space made for a mouse. It made me angry that I liked it as much as I did. I should hate everything about Blaze, but the opposite emotion flooded me every time. I was pathetic.

“I think your definition of fine and my definition of fine are very different,” he finally drawled. “When I think of fine, I don’t think of hiding in a hayloft and crying.”