Dana Wayne

Storm clouds silhouetted thirty-seven-year-old Jake Holloway in the saddle, unmoving and silent, near the edge of a deep ravine. The cry of an eagle overhead and a jackrabbit scampering in the distance went unnoticed.

A rumble of thunder pierced the gloomy silence, and the horse whinnied softly.

Saddle leather creaked as Jake shifted his muscular six-two frame to assess the approaching storm before returning his gaze to the chasm below, thoughts focused on the past. His chestnut mare, Misty, shook her head and snorted as though complaining about this ritual immersion in self-blame.

How many times had he sat here? How many I should haves, and I’m sorrys clogged his throat. “Too damn many,” he muttered as another roll of thunder interrupted the quiet. “Dammit,” he barked at last and tugged on the reins, turning Misty toward the ranch, the yawning abyss of unanswered questions as troubling today as they were four years ago.

They’d argued that morning. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time they hadn’t started the day with angry words. But that day began differently.

Jake jerked Misty to a stop and let the past consume him because the pain was better than nothing at all.

Forever etched into his brain, that fateful day remained a vivid memory.

A plate of scrambled eggs and bacon had greeted him when he entered the kitchen. Mary was busy at the stove, wearing her usual attire of black leggings and a long, flowy top. A dark blue bandana secured those long, nut-brown curls he loved into a low ponytail at the back of her neck. Several wayward locks framed an ageless face. Emerald eyes glistened when she offered him a nervous glance. Suddenly, the woman he fell in love with at sixteen stood before him.

Pain and regret vied for dominance as the morning continued to play out in his mind.

Mary had placed a mug of coffee beside his plate and then sat across from him.

“You’re not eating?” he’d asked.

She’d shaken her head and took a deep breath. “We need to talk.”

Something in her voice made him pause as he scooped a bite of eggs. “Okay.” He motioned with his empty fork. “About what?”

She spun the salt shaker on the table, eyes downcast. “I think it’s safe to say things haven’t been…the same between us for some time.”

“You mean because you’ve slept in the guest room the last three months, and we—”

“I’m tired of fighting,” she interrupted softly. “I can’t….” She inhaled deeply. “I don’t….”

The air around them sizzled with tension as he put down his fork and swiped his mouth with a napkin. “Don’t what?”

She inhaled again. “I don’t…”

His heart rate jumped, and the instant rush of blood swooshed in his ears. Silent, his chest tightened, and he barely breathed. He didn’t need a psychic to tell him disaster loomed like a hidden predator, ready to pounce.

The steady tick of the wall clock highlighted the uneasy silence.

Mary sighed and shook her head sadly. “I can’t—I won’t pretend anymore, Jake.” She straightened her shoulders and faced him. “I want a divorce.”

His heart stopped, then raced onward. What? She can’t mean that.

The swirling in his ears intensified, and his vision blurred as he tried to make sense of the words circling his head like angry bees. She wants a divorce.

“There’s someone else.”

It took a moment for his brain to untangle the words. A shocked heartbeat collided against his chest before anger, white-hot and ferocious, blindsided him. “Who?”

She flinched but didn’t look away. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Like hell!” He rapped his knuckles on the table. “Who is he?”

Back stiff, she didn’t break eye contact. “People change, Jake. We aren’t the same people anymore. It’s time to accept it and move on.”

He shoved his chair back so hard it toppled over. “Seems to me you’ve already done that.” He stomped to the sink and gripped the counter.

“You’re angry, I—”

“No shit,” he barked as he faced her. And I’m devastated by your betrayal.

Anger clashed with hurt as he paced in front of the sink. Finally, he righted the chair and clutched the back until his knuckles turned white. Gaze downcast, he slowly shook his head as reality hit home. She wants a divorce.

Okay, so things were a little strained lately, but he couldn’t see any reason for such drastic action. Whatever their problems were, they loved each other once; they could again. Right?

Heartbroken, he faced her. “Why, Mary? Why?”

Eyes averted, she continued to fiddle with the salt shaker. “We’re not the same people anymore, Jake.” Mossy green eyes glistened with unshed tears when she met his gaze. “We want different things now, have different needs.”

He blew out a grief-stricken breath and ran long fingers through dark, unruly hair. He paused a moment, then gripped the chair again. “Is it what I said about wanting a kid? Is that it?” He drank in a deep breath. “I won’t push anymore. I promise. I want a child, but I can wait until you’re ready.”

Her eyes flicked left and right before reconnecting with his. “We both know this ranch is all you’ve ever wanted, Jake. Or needed. But I need more.” She stiffened her back. “I don’t love you, Jake.”

Stunned silent by the declaration, her words bounced inside his head like pinballs. I don’t love you.

Chest so tight he could barely breathe, he stared. “You don’t mean that, Mary. You can’t.”

A single tear rolled down her cheek. “I’m truly sorry, Jake. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“How the hell can seeing someone behind my back not hurt me?”

She hesitated, then squared her shoulders and stood. “I’m going to say goodbye to Honey Bear, and then I’m leaving.” She turned for the door and stopped. “Please don’t be here...for both our sakes.”

Anguish produced a bitter taste in his mouth and forced out words better left unsaid. “Fine. Go.” Hands fisted at his side, he stepped back, the urge to shake some sense into her almost too strong to resist.

Mary hesitated, then whispered, “I’m so sorry,” before she bolted out the door in tears.

Speechless, Jake watched her leave, hands clenched so tight they throbbed as he struggled to absorb her announcement.

He went to the sink and splashed his face with cold water, ignoring the droplets dripping down his shirt. How do you fall out of love with someone you’ve been with since your teens?

He splashed his face again, but the water did nothing to alleviate the soul-crushing pain eating him alive.

She wants a divorce.

She doesn’t love me.

Emotions in turmoil, he tried to pinpoint when things got so far off track, but nothing specific came to mind. More than likely, many petty things morphed into bigger ones, but he was too busy with the ranch to notice.

Maybe it was the vacation he postponed last summer. One of the hottest on record, temperatures passed triple digits daily. He spent every waking hour ensuring the stock survived. He succeeded in saving them, but did he lose Mary in the process?

We just need to talk things through. We can work it out.

With that thought in mind, he stepped off the porch and headed for the barn in time to see her exit astride her favorite mare, Honey Bear. When she passed the edge of the barn, she kicked the horse into a run.

What happened next replayed in his mind like a slow-motion reel. Honey’s right front leg buckled when she stepped into a hole near the gate, and she went down, throwing Mary to the ground.

Blood froze in his veins when he saw land on the big iron ore rock resting against the fence. He ran toward her, shouting for his ranch hand to call an ambulance.

She lay motionless on the ground, blood pooling under her head, her right arm lying at an awkward angle. He yanked off his shirt and pressed it against the gaping wound on her head, crying and praying for her to be all right.

The rest of that day and the following weeks became a blur of doctors and specialists who kept Mary alive long enough to give birth to a premature daughter.

He muttered a curse and spurred Misty forward, unable to quash the one memory that haunted him to this day.

Was the child his?

Chapter Two

‘Tell Alexa I’m sorry. I’m just not ready.’

Alexa Morgan stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror and inhaled deeply, those eight little words forever embedded into her brain. “Why can’t I let it go?” she muttered. “It’s been four months.”

A soft whoof from Biscuit, her canine companion of three years, went unnoticed.

“Because he dumped me at the altar, that’s why,” she seethed. “At the bloody altar. In front of all our friends and family.” She sucked air through clenched teeth. “With a fricking text to my mother, no less. The dipstick didn’t even have the guts to tell me to my face.”

Biscuit pressed his nose against her hand.

She absently caressed his head. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I said I wouldn’t talk about it again, but...” Even now, the memory was a painful wound that refused to heal. “He dumped me, Biscuit. Without a second thought.” The truth was a hard pill to swallow. “He never loved me at all.”

Despite the hurt and mortification of Rodney’s callous desertion that day, she had refused to cower in shame. Instead, she had marched into the church with her head held high and informed everyone she’d discovered Rodney was a toxic, self-centered A-hole who didn’t deserve her, and in celebration of her good fortune, the party would start at the reception.