Jane Porter - My Cowboy Valentine

She angled her body away from him and stared out the truck window, her fist pressed to her mouth to keep from making a sound, because every detail from that last night was permanently engraved in her memory. It was the night she gave him the ultimatum. It was time he got help. Time he stopped drinking. She loved him so much, but she couldn’t stand by and watch him self-destruct.

And he’d listened to her that night, quiet, so very, very quiet and much too still, and then after an endless silence that stretched for fifteen minutes, then thirty, he smoothed his hand over her head and kissed her forehead and said she was right. She was absolutely right. She did deserve better. Then he climbed from bed, stepped into his jeans and dressed. And left.

He left her.

She waited days, weeks, months for him to come back. Waited days, weeks, months for him to come to his senses, remember how much he loved her, remember how she was his heart and his life and his soul. Waited for him to be the man he’d always said he’d be for her.

But he didn’t return.

Didn’t call, didn’t write, didn’t email, didn’t do anything and Grandma kept telling her to give him time...give him time...but it was killing her, not hearing from him, killing her, not knowing how he was doing and what he was doing...killing her that he could have forgotten her so completely. And so she tracked him down, showing up in Waco where he’d entered a rodeo, hoping that once he saw her, he’d remember how much he loved her. But it didn’t work out that way. He saw her, all right, but she saw him, too, lip-locked on the rodeo grounds with another brunette. Rachel’s replacement.

Rachel met David a week later while out with girlfriends in Fort Worth. Her friends had dragged her with them for a girls’ night out, determined to help her forget Cade. They’d driven to Fort Worth and gone line dancing. David was there that night at the bar, and he’d been handsome and charming. He had bought her drinks and all of her friends drinks, and showered her with compliments.

Rachel didn’t normally fall for guys like David—a little too smooth, a little too polished, a little too quick with a line—but he made her feel special and important, and desperate to get over Cade, Rachel slept with him on the second date—just that once—because they never went out again, but Rachel only needed that one time to get pregnant.

David didn’t want anything to do with her or the baby when she told him. He even moved to Calgary, taking a job there, to make sure he couldn’t be roped into anything.

Thank God Grandma had been there. Thank God Grandma had loved her. She drew another quick, painful breath and then forced herself to face Cade. “You want to talk about this? Okay, fine, we’ll talk. Yes, the way you left me hurt. But I’m not mad at you, Cade, and to be perfectly honest, I don’t think about you, either. I have Tommy now, and he’s my life, and I wouldn’t have had him if you and I had stayed together.”

Chapter Four

When they arrived at Mrs. Munoz’s small house in Mineral Wells, Cade put the truck into Park, and Rachel opened the passenger door and headed up the front walk to get Tommy.

Rachel thought Mrs. Munoz looked pale and tired as she handed over Tommy’s small backpack and his coat. “Everything go okay today?” Rachel asked her sitter as she crouched in front of Tommy, zipping up his puffy winter jacket.

“Everything was fine.” Mrs. Munoz leaned on the back of a chair in the hall. “He was a good boy. I’m just not feeling so well.”

In the four years that Rachel had known Mrs. Munoz, Mrs. Munoz had never once complained about anything and Rachel swiftly straightened, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s probably nothing.”

That was never a good sign, Rachel thought, forehead creasing. “Are you sick?”

“No, no. The doctor just wants to run some tests—”

“What kind of tests?”

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about me.”

“But I am worried, Mrs. Munoz. What kind of tests?”

“They want to check my heart, but it’s probably nothing—”

“Oh, Mrs. Munoz, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because we don’t know anything yet, and you need help—”

“But having Tommy here can’t be good for you.”

The elderly woman shrugged. “He likes coming here, and I like having him here.”

Rachel’s chest squeezed tight and she felt the pressure inside her grow, the old pressure she’d felt when Sally was dying and Rachel was eaten alive with guilt that her grandmother was exhausting herself trying to help her. She felt the same guilt now because Mrs. Munoz was a truly lovely woman and had been an invaluable help these past several years. Rachel wondered now if she’d leaned on the caregiver too much.

“When do you see the doctor again?” Rachel asked her.

“He wanted me to do the tests a couple weeks ago, but you’ve had those two weddings, and now the move—”

“My work and the move aren’t more important than your health! Nothing is more important than your health, Mrs. Munoz, and I’m going to keep Tommy with me this week until you get your tests done and have your results and you know what’s going on.”

Rachel gave Mrs. Munoz a fierce hug goodbye, but walking to Cade’s truck with Tommy’s hand tucked in hers, Rachel felt close to tears. Mrs. Munoz was such a sweet lady. Nothing could happen to her. Nothing.

Fortunately, Tommy loved Cade’s truck and was happy to be riding in the cab’s backseat where he could play with the leather armrest with the built-in cup holder. But Rachel was nervous he might break the armrest by flipping it down too aggressively and cautioned him to be more gentle.

“It’s okay,” Cade told her. “He’s not going to break anything.”

“You don’t know that. He does break things. Frequently.”

Cade shrugged. “Then if he breaks it, I’ll fix it. No big deal.”

She opened her mouth to protest, and then blurted something completely different. “Tommy’s babysitter, Mrs. Munoz, isn’t well.” Her voice cracked. “She might be having heart problems.”

Cade shot her a swift look. “Does that put you in a bad spot?”

“I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about her. She’s been wonderful to us...really loving and so patient with Tommy. She never gets mad at him, and whenever I’m in a bind she always comes through for me. And then she makes us homemade enchiladas and the best tamales at Christmas—” Rachel broke off as tears filled her eyes and she suddenly couldn’t stop them. They fell in great fat warm drops and she reached up to catch them, but they were falling faster than she could wipe them away. “It just doesn’t seem fair. I know we’re mortal, but life is just so short, and the people I care about just keep going away—”

And then she stopped talking, embarrassed she’d said so much, and to Cade, of all people! He was the one who’d broken her heart into a thousand pieces and had made every loss after hurt worse.

“I’m sorry, Rachel,” he said quietly, his voice pitched low.

She nodded, struggling to get control. Suddenly he reached out to her and placed his hand on her knee, his palm warm against her skin. From someone else the touch might have been sexual, but this wasn’t sexual Cade, it was loving Cade, the Cade who knew her and had once been so good at comforting her.

At the house, Rachel unlocked the front door and then flipped on the entry light, before getting the hallway lights that led to the bedrooms. Tommy let out a yelp and pushed past her, running down the hall to eagerly turn on all the lights he could reach. He loved lights, and light switches, loved fans, too. Anything that could go on or off fascinated him for hours.