A Christmas to Believe In (38 page)

Then, he intended to lock himself in his bedroom and stay

far away from the reception. Thankfully, Alex had picked up

on his black mood when he suggested Clint try on his tux

another time. He wouldn't be surprised to hear Clint didn't

intend to stick around.

Clint wandered into the kitchen. "I'm going to see my

horse, Mom." He left no room in his tone for argument. Short,

concise, no hesitation. He was leaving before all this

happiness suffocated him. For a little while, he could breathe

with Angel. Regroup and find the congeniality necessary to

wish his little brother a full life with Zoe. For the second time.

"If you're late—"

"I won't be late."

He exited the house before she could think of something

else to delay his escape. Hunched down into his coat, he

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descended the stairs to the sound of tires in the snow.

Looking up, his feet stopped moving as a white Camry eased

to a stop.

Jesse.

The fragile wall he'd erected around his inflamed emotions

threatened to buckle. He ordered his feet to move, to keep

going toward his truck. But as Jesse climbed out of her car,

they refused to listen.

His chest collapsed against the vision that moved across

the snow. Long black hair tumbled loose around her shoulders

and glinted in the late afternoon sun. Dressed in that beaded

blue dress she'd admired in the formalwear shop, she picked

her way through the uneven drifts. The same blue gown he'd

instinctively known would hug her curves and highlight the

full swell of her breasts. It did, three times over.

Her concentration on her feet, she failed to notice him

standing there.

No single fiber of his being was immune to her. His nerves

stood at attention. Heat swamped through his veins. Beneath

his jeans, he felt himself stir against his thigh. God in Heaven,

she was breathtaking.

And damn it all, she was supposed to be with him.

Tumbling into his arms so he could kiss her until they were

both breathless and panting.

Two steps away from colliding into him, she looked up,

startled. Their eyes locked. Profound sadness welled within

her gaze. Sorrow that twisted his heart. A subtle undercurrent

of energy passed between them, and those wide blue eyes

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lanced with pain. He knew the ache all too well. The same

unending anguish clawed at his gut, seared into his soul.

Her name rose to the tip of his tongue. She parted her lips,

as if she too suffered the urge to speak. For three heavy

beats of his heart, he stared at the woman he yearned to

touch. Then, he looked away.

When he slid his gaze back to her, she had already

mounted the steps.

In that moment, Clint knew he would fall down on his

knees and beg her to stay if he thought there was any chance

of her returning. If she'd said one thing—his name, a damn

hello—he'd have done it too. But she hadn't, and her silence

sliced through the thin strand of hope he'd clung to. She

wasn't coming back. Wouldn't. Though she shared the same

oppressive feelings that clogged him up inside, she'd made

her decision.

He cleared his throat and went to his truck. God, why had

he ever come back to Kansas City?

The few short yards to her barn felt like miles. Tonight

should be a time for celebration. He should drink champagne

with Alex. Toast the happy couple. Dance with his nieces.

Instead, it would be a hell more damning than any fire and

brimstone. With Jesse there, making it through the ceremony

without breaking down would be almost impossible. He'd find

a way. Somehow, he'd find the strength to smile and pretend.

And she would do the same.

He thumped his fist against his steering wheel. Damn it!

He'd give anything to be a thousand miles away from here.

He kicked open his door and stepped out into the snow. As he

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took a step toward the barn, the partly open door caught his

eye. Curious, he slowed his steps and approached quietly.

Inside, Ethan leaned over the stall, looking in on Clint's

horse.

An unbidden, misplaced burst of fury ignited in Clint's gut.

Every instinct he possessed demanded he order the kid who'd

ripped his dreams into pieces away from his mare. But logic

filtered in enough to stop his tongue. This wasn't Ethan's

fault. He was just a poor kid who'd suffered way too much,

way too young. He was every bit as terrified of losing Jesse as

Clint had been.

Only...Ethan got her in the end.

As it should be.

Clint cleared his voice to make his presence known.

Ethan whirled around wide-eyed. Just as quickly, he

scowled. But in the half-second of time that passed before

those wide blue eyes narrowed into a harsh, line of

accusation, Clint read something that sent a foreboding chill

scampering down his spine. Worry lingered there.

Unmistakable concern.

As Ethan fled for the house, Clint approached the stall. He

scanned his horse, noted she munched on fresh hay.

Shrugging off the boy's reaction as mere concern over what

Clint might say, Clint stepped into the stall and unfastened

Angel's blanket.

When he pulled it off her back and bent over to set it on

the shavings-covered floor, he let out a string of curses. Milk

dripped in a steady stream from her engorged teats. Not a

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slow drop-drop spread out across several seconds, but a

heavy flow that wet her hind legs.

"Oh, Angel... Not tonight," he groaned.

She lifted her head and locked wide brown eyes with his.

On a heavy sigh, Clint eased out of her stall, taking her

blanket with him. He went to his truck to retrieve a folding

chair and the spare blanket he kept in the back seat in case

he got stranded in cold weather. He hauled everything inside,

set it up in a corner where he could still see Angel without

disturbing the labor that would begin sometime tonight.

Then, he picked up his phone and dialed his brother.

Holding Mia's hand, Jesse led the toddler to the upstairs

bathroom. With Zoe bustling around Amelia's bedroom,

Keeley keeping the other two sisters occupied in the front

room with the judge, Alex and Heath hurriedly trying to get

Heath into his clothes, the job fell to her. She welcomed the

opportunity—it gave her an excuse to let her false smile fade.

And little Mia was too caught up in the prospect of having a

daddy she didn't notice.

"Mommy said we're staying with Gramma tonight.

Tomorrow, Daddy and Mommy are going to come see what

Santa brought us here. Mommy told Santa to bring our

presents here. But he already gave me what I wanted. I

s'pose he doesn't have to come."

Jesse gave her tiny hand a squeeze and nudged the

bathroom door open. "I'm sure he'll come, sweetie. Now, do

you need help with your dress?"

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"Nope. I got it." With absolute reverence, Mia lifted the

hem of her soft pink dress, giving Jesse a view of lace

pantyhose before she disappeared behind the door.

Leaning against the wall, Jesse let out a breath and

pressed her hand against her belly to stop the spinning.

Seeing Clint worked up all the junk she'd stuffed in a corner

to get through the day. And any minute now, he'd be back.

She had to survive the rest of the night, somehow.

Heath's bedroom door opened, and his voice drifted into

the hall. "Where are you? I'm late, and you're still not here."

Clint. Jesse's heart beat faster as she made the

connection. Alex pushed past his older brother, hurried on

ahead. Heath gave her a nod, paused to shut his door.

"Mom's gonna have a fit, Clint, but I'll tell her. Alex is too

tense to give a damn." He paused, looking up to hold Jesse's

gaze with a warm smile. "Yeah, yeah, we'll see you later.

Name it after me."

He flipped his phone closed and dropped it in his lapel

pocket. "Hey, Jesse!"

She plastered her smile back on her face and willed the

shaking out of her voice. "'Bout time you showed up."

"Least I'm attending. More than I can say for loverboy."

His eyes assumed a knowing gleam, and he tossed her a

wink.

"L-l-loverboy?" Heath couldn't know—could he? She'd

counted on him to be ignorant to her involvement with Clint.

Of all the family, Heath was her lifeline to surviving tonight.

Everyone else would give her that look, tease, insinuate.

"Yeah. I figured he'd have called you first."

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"Called me? About?" Her stomach cramped. Of course, he

wouldn't call her. They weren't speaking. Hell, they weren't

doing anything they
should
be doing.

Heath's brows furrowed as he examined her with a

thoughtful gaze. "His horse is having a foal. He won't be here

tonight."

Angel foaling? Oh, God, she should be with Clint. Not

masquerading at a wedding. He had so many things tied up in

that mare. So many hopes. He must be going through hell in

her barn right now. He needed her.

Oh, Clint...I'm so sorry.

"Hey, are you okay? You look a little green. You want some

water?"

No, no water. No nothing. The solitary cracker she'd eaten

had evidently pushed the limit. She shook her head, not

trusting her mouth.

"Jesse..."

The bathroom door opened, and Mia exited with a bright

smile. She fitted her hand in Jesse's and looked up, bright

eyed. "I'm ready, Jesse."

As Jesse's stomach pitched to the floor for the second time

that day, she shoved Mia's hand into Heath's. "Take her."

The door banged into the wall beneath her shove, and

Jesse bolted inside. Only her empty stomach heaved nothing

but bitter bile. She clutched at the stool, trying to stop the

spinning in her head. She'd abandoned Clint. Walked away

from him when he'd said he needed her. After her speech on

believing in him, she refused to give him the chance to try

with Ethan. Now, he was in her barn, in the cold, watching

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the only hope he had for his farm crumble into dust. She had

no business wearing this pretty dress and ignoring what she'd

done to Clint.

A light rap on the door accompanied Keeley's voice.

"Jesse?"

"I'm fine."

The door opened anyway. Keeley's cool hands pulled

Jesse's hair out of her face and off her neck. The rush of air

helped to ease the dizzy sensation.

"Heath said you didn't look fine. Let me get you a

washcloth."

Jesse closed her eyes to the sound of running water.

Shame rose up to mingle with her heartache, and she gnawed

on her lower lip to stop the stinging in her eyes. She was

stronger than this. Leaving a guy, doing the right thing for

Ethan, shouldn't reduce her to such embarrassing

helplessness. This was Alex's wedding day—he deserved

better than this from her.

The cloth settled on the back of her neck. Something

rustled at her side, and Jesse opened her eyes to find Keeley

wedged between the toilet and the wall, sitting at her side.

"You wanna tell me?"

Jesse tried to push herself upright, but her knees refused

to hold. She wobbled, and sank back down. On the second

attempt, she made it to her feet. "Zoe's waiting on me."

Keeley caught her hand. "Zoe will be fine. Are you sick?"

Jesse shook her head. Heartsick, maybe. But not

contagiously ill.

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"Are you..." Keeley's amber gaze fell poignantly to Jesse's

belly.

"God, no," Jesse exhaled. Wouldn't that just be perfect.

Thank, God she didn't have to worry about that. That would

push her over the edge and likely find her in a sanitarium.

Raising children with Clint... Suffering through a lifetime of

this...this misery.

She cringed.

Keeley stood up, gathered Jesse's hands in hers. "I'm not

your family. I'm not trying to be. But I am a woman. I know

what it's like to hurt. Does this have anything to do with

Clint's coming in at four am drunker than a skunk?"

The simple question broke Jesse's control. Her sob

wrenched free, her tears rebelled. "I love him."

Keeley's arms came around her, drawing her into a

supportive hug. "I'm sure he feels the same. Everything will

be okay."

Jesse shook her head. "No," she choked out. "Ethan hates

him. I had to walk away." Freeing the admission, the dam

burst and Jesse broke down completely. The whole sordid

story came tumbling out in a drippy mess.

Letting go of her bottled up truths helped to salve her