Impulsion: A Station 32 Fire Men Novel (23 page)

She found the picture of the girl hanging on his arm in one photo and showed it to Ava. “That’s Brant’s girlfriend. That’s his hand, right there on her hip.” Those explanations went on for the next few images that had haunted Harley in the past, each one making her feel like a fool.

When Harley found the picture of the girl leaning over his shoulder kissing his cheek, his arms reaching up and around her, that smile on his face, Ava busted out laughing. “That’s me! That was right after he had been gone for almost half a year. He only had a little while before he left again. That was a huge party down at the pub for him and Easton.”

Harley’s eyes locked with Ava’s. She felt her heart pick up a little, felt like a fool all over again.

“Harley, I don’t know how innocent he was when he was away, but here, he’s been a saint, at least when it comes to girls, and even when he was away—he loved no one else. Girl’s honor. I know my brother. I was there through it all. He’s not over you.”

Harley willed herself not to show any emotion in her expression, even though she was feeling the worst of them. “Ava…I’m pretty sure your brother is impossible to get over.”

“Then don’t.”

Easier said than done
, Harley thought to herself.

To hear Camille and Ava talk, you’d think Wyatt was madly in love with her, but around Wyatt she felt like public enemy number one.

She took her time driving back to Willowhaven Farms. By the time she got to the house, Ava had already parked and was long inside. Harley sat in the truck for a few minutes, tried to gather her nerve, then glanced to the main barn. She could see the lights on in the apartment.

Harley held her breath and started to walk across the driveway. Right as she got to the gate that would lead her in, Johnnie was driving out. “I just did a night check, your boy is sound asleep.” Harley smiled to thank him and started to walk further. Johnnie called after her. “You might want to steer clear,” he said with a chuckle. She glanced back, trying to understand what he meant by that. “Green Honda out front. You know what they say, don’t come a knocking…those two are anything but quiet.” He shook his head again, amused by his words, and then drove off.

Standing right there, Harley almost puked. She started to run, not toward the main barn but away from it. As soon as she figured out she was going toward the path that would lead her to the back creek, she stopped.

She leaned on the fence and just tried to breathe in and out.
In and out,
she thought to herself.

Wyatt knew she was here, knew that her room basically could see into his apartment, and he brought a girl home. She was starting to think that it was his family that wanted a second chance, not him, and her wayward mind told her that his mother wanted Danny Boy back, not her.

Like he could feel it, her breaking, Collin called at that moment.

“Still pissed?” he asked when she answered.

“Something tells me he has a smile on his face right now.”

“Oh yeah? Then why is your voice trembling?”

“I don’t feel good here.”

“What? Why?”

“The place is the same. It’s all the same but me. It’s cold.”

“They’re being mean?” Collin’s tone was defensive, assertive, exactly the way it always was when he discovered someone was hurting Harley.

“That’s not it. I don’t know how to say it.”

“Harley, you knew going there would not be easy. You just have to work through it. Keep your head high.”

When she didn’t say anything, he spoke. “You want me to fly there? I can stay for a bit.”

“No, don’t come
. That will only make it worse. I’m fine. I swear I am. I’m figuring out some things are safer in memories.”

Collin sighed. “You’re not there to go back, but forward.”

“No, I’m here because that million dollar GPS you put in the rig detoured me and some asshat lost his load and almost killed
my
horse.”

“Fate comes in all shapes.”

“Right, Collin. I just need to… I’m going to bed.”

“I’ll call you in the morning.”

She hung up before he heard her voice crack, before he decided to come anyway.

***

Wyatt was furious with Ava for taking Harley to town, even madder that she had stayed out all day, even through dinner. That morning, he had ridden every horse his mother asked to be sent over for Harley to ride, every one that would challenge her and keep her occupied while Danny Boy was healing.

He thought if he rode them first, worked out some of the aggression and was there when Harley rode them for the first time, it might not be so bad. He had no idea what kind of rider she was anymore, if this was something she did now and again or if she was still an athlete. That would make all the difference with the horses his mother had asked for.

Wyatt was going over the farm finances with his parents, planning how much grain they needed for the next month, when Ava came in. He waited for Harley to follow her, thinking he’d ask her to take a walk, just start over. When she didn’t come in, he went to look for her. He almost went to the main barn, thinking she was making sure Danny Boy was all right, but the only light on was the one coming from the apartment that Truman had moved into the day Wyatt’s house was built.

He thought he heard something, saw her shadow, so he started to walk in that direction. His heart picked up when he realized he was walking toward his house. Wyatt could have built his home anywhere on the Doran property, but he chose the spot that would overlook that creek, that one tree that held every memory he wanted to drown in.

That hope crashed when he realized he did see her, that she was on the phone with
him.
She told him it felt cold here, and something about memories should stay memories.

He tore off before she knew he was there, got in his truck, and drove the long way around the property. Even though he was due at the fire hall at 7 A.M., he sat on his front porch until dawn and stared out at the creek, wondering what the hell he did to deserve any of this.

***

Harley was up at dawn the next day but stayed in her room until she heard Camille leave. She didn’t want to be face-to-face with Wyatt after last night. To her horror, that little green Honda was still parked beside the barn. She kept her head held high as she passed it. She was going to her horse, she was going to take care of
her
horse, then she didn’t know what she was going to do, but that was putting one foot in front of the other at the moment.

“Where are your riding clothes?” Camille asked from the bays.

“At the house.”

“So you plan to just walk around my barn all day and do nothing? Are you not a rider anymore?”

Harley glanced to Danny Boy, then to Camille, thinking the woman had lost her mind.

“This is your mount,” she said, pointing to the gray gelding in the crossties, “and he hates waiting on his rider.” Camille stepped in her office, then out again with riding pants and short boots. “Head upstairs and change.”

Harley had always known Camille was hard-core, but she never thought she was cruel. This right here, making her go upstairs when clearly there was a girl lying in Wyatt’s bed, that was a move her mother would make. And by having the mother Harley had, she had learned not to show any emotion in her expression. Camille would have no idea that right now Harley was seconds away from a girlish breakdown.

She took the clothes and climbed the stairs, telling herself it was not the first time she had found a girl in this apartment. Even though they all said the last time was a ruse, she was having her doubts, especially after a fitful sleep the night before. Every time she rose out of her bed, after a vivid dream about her and Wyatt, that green Honda was in her face.

Harley knocked. No one came to the door, so she opened it like she owned the place. All the furniture was exactly the same as it was before; like everything else, it was captured in time. She had gone into the bathroom and changed and came out just in time to see a pretty little blonde running around gathering all her things.

“Hey, thanks for the wake up call. Harley? Right?” the girl said, not even troubling to smile, only bothering to give a condescending glance in Harley’s direction.

Harley never used it but was taught to give a lethal glare, one that clearly stated, ‘I’m better than you.’ She used it then, though, as she glanced over that girl, then made her way back down, not willing to play nice with anyone.

It was a good thing she was in a bad mood; that seemed to give her the strength she needed to control this near out of control mount she was on. She felt every bone and muscle
in her body pushed, pushed so far that she forgot that she was sore before long.

“Wyatt thought he was going to have to ride that horse three times over before he’d be ready for you
. He wanted to be here the first time you did ride, but I guess a girl’s day at some shopping center sounded more inviting,” Camille had taunted as Harley let her horse walk around the perimeter of the ring.

“Wasn’t the driver in that situation.”

“Oh, so you forgot how to use your voice? Or do you just let people talk for you? Never rob a bank. They still prosecute the ones that were
just there
. They call it ‘accessory’ or something.”

Harley actually laughed at that. Growing up, when Harley was at her farm, Camille never acknowledged the background Harley had, her parents. She treated Harley like one of her own. Every once in a while, usually just after Harley arrived or just before she was leaving, little taunts like that would come
. It was Camille’s silent way of telling Harley to woman up. Say what you mean and mean what you say, no matter how scared you are.

“Your next ride is tacked up. He’s a bit easier.”

“What? Wyatt doesn’t want to ride him first?” Harley threw back.

“I’m sure he would love to, but he is currently fighting fires, or waiting to fight fires. On occasion, he pulls people from turned over trucks, too. We won’t be seeing him until tomorrow. If he sleeps tonight, it will be first thing
. If not, then he’ll be ‘round for the afternoon lessons.”

And that gives him permission to be an ass?
Harley thought to herself.

The last time Harley had ridden as hard as she did that day was the last time she was at Willowhaven. Camille had pushed her, not to be mean, but because that was how she always was.

The thing about being that tired, feeling every muscle in your body tingling, wanting nothing more than a hot shower and soft bed, was that it didn’t allow you to be stressed, anxious, to really even think. It was a mellow state that was like a drug to Harley growing up, and feeling it again made her life back home seem worlds away.

It wasn’t until Collin called to check on her that she focused on her situation.

“Better today?” he asked, and right as he did Harley watched that green Honda pull up. Apparently, whoever that girl was had been with Wyatt long enough to stay at his place when he wasn’t even there.

“Yeah, it was,” she breathed. She told Collin every detail of her day, a day of riding, working, finding a breath. Anytime he tried to mention Wyatt, she made it obvious she wasn’t going to talk about it by drastically changing the topic.

After talking with him, just like the old routine she called her father and told him all that she had done that day, too. He never asked about Wyatt, just listened to her, even laughed a few times at the things Camille had said and Harley found fitting to repeat.

Harley slept like the dead that night, only managed to remember one dream of Wyatt. She thought about waiting on Camille again before she left, especially when she saw Wyatt’s truck parked at the barn right next to that Honda, but she found that thin sheet of nerve that Collin had always tried to get her to grasp and made her way to the barn; properly dressed that day, a tank and riding pants, boots, she even put her own chaps on.

The horses had already been fed. A few were being tacked, others were being turned out. She was surprised Danny Boy was not leaning out of his stall, protesting about being left in once again. That almost scared her, so she picked up her pace, almost jogged.

When she reached his stall, her eyes connected with Wyatt’s. He was holding Danny Boy, letting his long arms guide his hand down Danny Boy’s neck. He was still in his uniform from work, paramedic pants and a fireman T-shirt. Harley was sure the boy could wear a paper bag and still be drool
-worthy, and that ticked her off more than anything.

Old Doc Knox, the same vet that had always taken care of this farm, was looking over Danny Boy.

“Everything all right?” Harley asked, bending to go under the stall guard.

“This boy’s a machine,” Doc Knox said. “I was checking on the colt that was dropped last week, thought I’d have a look at him. Has he left his stall?”

Wyatt looked at Harley in question.

“No, Camille said not to move him.”

Knox laughed. “She’s fiercely protective over this one.” He picked up Danny Boy’s back leg, ran his hand down his hocks. “You can hand walk him for twenty minutes a day, for his sanity. We want to keep these lacerations as clean as possible; he’s rubbing everything he can into them. I’d rinse them, wrap his legs tight. I’ll come back ‘round day after tomorrow and have another peek.”