A Christmas to Believe In (30 page)

proposal. He had no right to snap. But this whole situation

pained him too much to stop the gut-reaction.

Every last damn thing he cared about was about to slip

through his fingers. Jesse included. The idea of leaving her

knifed such fierce pain into his heart at times he thought it

might stop. And yet, he could do nothing to stop this roller

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coaster ride. Even if he sold everything and returned to

Missouri, he had no job. Could find little gainful employment

with a degree in Equine Science. At best he might sign on

with Pfizer and do research. But the racetrack had closed its

doors, and he had no desire to serve as a veterinary assistant

at a pittance of an hourly rate. At least in Kentucky, if he

couldn't hold onto his farm, opportunities within the industry

abounded. He could manage someone else's breeding

program. Oversee a large-scale racing cooperative.

Any chance he might have of financial independence lay in

the bluegrass state. If he got on his feet, he could work at a

permanent arrangement with Jesse. But not until then. Not

until he could fulfill the role of partner and provider.

As his father had done.

The slam of a car door dragged him out of his thoughts. He

needed to apologize to Jesse. Then, he needed to go home.

Cool off. Think through his options before he discussed this

with her again. And he would—she wouldn't let an idea go

once she set her teeth into it. If he couldn't find a way to

explain why he couldn't accept her help, she'd bring the

subject up until she beat all the fight out of him.

He hunched over and collected a sample of his mare's

milk. She swished her tail, munched on her morning ration of

grain as he ran the redundant test. When the strip filled with

vibrant color, he compared the results. The same as

yesterday. A sliver of relief washed through him. He still had

hope in the foal. Everything wasn't a total loss yet.

Clint fished a peppermint disk out of his pocket and fed it

to Angel. "Good girl. You're doing great. Now just keep

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hanging in there. We'll be home in four days. At least give me

that much, Angel. Foal in Kentucky so we can enter that baby

in the incentives." As he pulled her blanket back over her

withers, he glanced up at the rafters. "Give me that much,

please. That's all I ask."

He gathered his things, tucked them into his corner, and

hunkered down into his coat to brave the snow. What had

begun as a dusting last night, had filled their tracks while

they slept. Now, the flakes fell in a thick white carpet, heavy

and wet. Perfect snowball weather if he'd been in a different

mood.

Trudging through the snow, he ordered the blackness out

of his heart. He wouldn't leave on this dark note. Last night

had been too incredible to let a disagreement spoil

everything. As he approached the door, muffled shouts

filtered out. He paused, his already present frown deepening.

Ethan's voice thundered through the half-inch opening.

"You lied to me! You fucking lied to me!"

Great. Just what Jesse needed to top off this morning. Now

she suffered her son's temper as well as his. Clint ground his

teeth together and let himself inside. Tension crackled

through the air, thick and full of explosive energy. Ethan

stood at the bottom of the stairs, his face red with fury. Jesse

clutched the back of the nearby chair, her knuckles white.

"So I'm supposed to live by your rules, Ethan?" she

snapped. "You weren't here. What I do on my own time is my

business. If I want to have company over, I will. This is my

house!"

"
Your
house? You said it was
ours
!"

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Clint quietly picked up his shoes. His temper lit at the

boy's disrespect, but he clamped his teeth into his tongue. If

he jumped into the middle of this, things would only get

worse. The best thing he could do was silently disappear. Let

Jesse work things out with her son. Offer her support when

she needed a shoulder.

"Ethan," Jesse's voice cracked as she tried to out shout

him. "It is our house, but you don't get to make the rules. I

have a life, too."

"You don't give a damn about how I feel, Jesse—you're no

better than anyone else! Everything you say's a fucking lie!"

"I haven't lied to you. Where do you come up with that?"

The heartbreak in Jesse's tear-moistened eyes ripped Clint

in half. He forced himself to look away. Ordered his tongue to

stay silent. But every accusation that Ethan carelessly flung

made it increasingly difficult to obey.

"Just friends! You said you were just friends. Friends don't

kiss. Friends don't fuck!"

At that, Clint's control snapped in two. Sweater in one

hand, he wheeled on Ethan. One purposeful stride put him

between the pair, and he leveled the boy with a deadly glare.

"Look. You can hate me all you want, Ethan. Call me every

name in the book—believe me, son, I've heard them all. I can

probably teach you a few. But you
will not
speak to her that

way. Got it?"

For an instant, shock widened Ethan's eyes. But surprise

gave way to fury, and his scowl darkened. Suspended

seconds passed as Ethan tried to stare him down. Then, he

curled a fist at his side and exploded, "Fuck you!"

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Clint kept his gaze on the boy as he stormed up the stairs.

When the door slammed shut overhead, he turned to go to

Jesse. Before he made it, she crumpled behind the chair.

"Shit," he mumbled.

Hurrying to the backside, he found her hugging her knees,

silent tears rolling down her cheeks. He knelt at her side,

gathered her close. He guided her head to his shoulder and

rocked her gently as sobs rolled through her body. "Shh,

sweetheart," he murmured as he stroked her long hair.

"Shh."

"I'm sorry. The weather..." A strangled cry choked her,

and she broke down again.

Clint didn't know how long they sat there. But he held her

until the tears faded, until her hiccups passed. When her

breathing steadied into a pattern interrupted by intermittent

spasms, he took her by the arms and pushed her away to

gaze into her glistening eyes. He ached to tell her how much

he loved her; that he couldn't stand by and let Ethan rip her

to pieces. Instead, he brushed the wetness from her cheeks

with his thumbs and cupped her face in his palms. His gaze

searched hers. "I'm so sorry," he whispered.

With a shake of her head, she swiped at her eyes. "He

came home early because of the weather. Found your shoes

and sweater, our dishes from last night. He snapped."

Moisture welled within her eyes again, and Clint leaned

forward to kiss it away. The taste of salt met his lips, a flavor

that only made her heartache cut more deeply. He dragged

his mouth down her cheeks, settled over hers. As he kissed

her softly, the phone in the kitchen let out an impatient peal.

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Jesse eased out of his embrace and wobbled to the phone.

"Hello?"

While he watched, Jesse's features went from sorrowful to

ashen. Her eyes widened like saucers, her eyebrows lifted to

her hair. She blinked twice, answered some unheard remark

with a sharp nod. "Of course, Alex. Yes, I'll tell him. We'll be

there shortly."

Alex? Clint furrowed his brow. What could Alex possibly be

calling about? His chest tightened at the possibilities. His

mother? His nieces? Was someone hurt? Standing, he

frowned at Jesse.

She slapped the receiver into the cradle, stared at it for

several agonizing heartbeats.

"What is it?" Clint insisted.

"The girls." She lifted her gaze to his. "Your nieces are

missing. Alex needs help looking for them."

Clint glanced at the stairs. "Should we..."

Jesse shook her head. "When he's like this, there's no use.

He'll hide for hours."

He yanked his sweater over his head and stretched his

hand out for hers. "Come on then. I'll drive."

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Clint navigated streets, that had turned treacherous

overnight, with the ease of someone who'd been on the road

a lifetime. Jesse watched his hands, took in the tightness of

his knuckles, and sat in silence. Silence that had blanketed

them the moment they left her house. Her emotions were too

tossed up to sift through, her heart too shredded to try.

Clint's explosion, Ethan's tirade, and now the girls. Missing

in what the radio called a blizzard. White-out conditions they

had no business traveling through. Guilt plagued her for

leaving Ethan home alone after such a disastrous fight. And

yet, she couldn't turn her back on Alex. Besides, sitting at

home would have resulted in one of two things—either more

fighting or damning silence. A lack of sound totally unlike the

one that engulfed her now.

This one held acceptance. Beneath all the uncomfortable

not knowing what to say, no condemnation waited. Clint

didn't hate her, didn't despise the decisions she'd made. Yet,

she couldn't decide whether he was still angry with her or not.

His expression didn't hint at animosity. But then again,

driving to town took all his concentration.

Add in his worry for Alex's children, and the lack of

conversation made sense. Not that she wanted words.

Everything inside her was too clogged up to try.

All she wanted was to go back to this morning and not roll

out of bed. If she'd stayed there, a good portion of today

wouldn't have happened. She wouldn't have escaped Ethan's

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fury, but the chasm between her and Clint wouldn't have

opened.

He skidded around a corner, and his mouth tightened.

Even in his four-wheel drive pickup, he had difficulty

straightening out the nose. The bed pulled sideways, bringing

them precariously close to a row of parked cars. But as he let

off the gas, the truck slowed, and their trajectory evened out.

On a heavy exhale, he nosed the truck into an open space in

front of Zoe's shop and opened the door. "I'll be right back.

Stay here where it's warm."

She huddled into her coat to block the chill that swept in

and nodded. He vanished into the thick snowfall, and Jesse

stared out the window unseeing. The windshield wipers

droned a monotonous rhythm as she replayed the horrifying

argument with Ethan again.

He hadn't noticed the forgotten sweater on the couch until

he'd stumbled over Clint's loafers. The trip brought him

around in slow motion. His gaze swept the room, stopping on

each piece of evidence from the night before that she hadn't

yet picked up. Her nearby shoes, the half-empty bottle of

wine, the candle nubs, the desert dishes still on the table.

Then, those knowing eyes settled on her, and they'd flashed

with betrayal.

Before she could utter a word, he unleashed on her.

Jesse cringed as his accusations boomed in her head. Had

she lied to him? She certainly hadn't meant to. When she'd

said Clint and she were just friends, she'd meant it. She'd

never imagined things would lead to this—that Ethan would

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come home after she'd spent the night in Clint's arms. After

she'd given herself in so many ways it made her blush.

She'd certainly never fathomed Ethan would turn on her

with such rage. They hadn't battled with that kind of venom

since his first month with her. Back then, he fought her

attempts to get close. The same way he battled Clint's

attempt to fit into their lives.

Her heart hurt all over with the realization she'd wounded

Ethan even though she'd tried to do just the opposite. She'd

chosen a night he wouldn't be home to deliberately keep from

shoving her affair under his nose. What seemed like such a

grand plan now seemed like a disaster in the making.

Yet, she could think of no other way to handle it. If she'd

invited Clint to stay when Ethan was home, the scene would

have been doubly horrendous.

The door opened. Clint reached inside to shut the engine

off. He ducked his head in, nodded it at her door. "We have to

hoof it. Alex is looking in the stores here. Mom and Zoe are

staying in the shop in case they come back. Heath's down at

the old train depot where they've got some reindeer display.

Zoe asked us to look over at the park where she took them to

build snowmen earlier."

Jesse pulled her hat down over her ears and tugged her