Silent Hearts (Hamilton Stables 3) by Melissa West Page B

void. Becca fills your void.”
    Swallowing hard, Nick peered back over at Mama V. “Like no one else ever has.”
    “Then tell her. She loves you, too, boy. Surely you see that.”
    “She didn’t say anything.”
    “When you told her you loved her?”
    Nick paused, rethinking the conversation. “I didn’t actually tell her that.”
    “Then what did you say?”
    Suddenly, Nick stood up. “Nothing. I told her others suspected we were together, that I cared for her.”
    “But you didn’t confirm it?”
    Nick ran through the conversation again. He hadn’t told her a damn thing. Was that why she’d frozen up? Because he’d said all those things without confirming them? He didn’t know, but it was time he found out.
    “Where are you going?” Mama V called as he started for the door.
    He winked back at her. “To see about a girl.”

Chapter Eight
    B ecca decided that Carrie Underwood sang songs especially for her, because right that second she totally needed a “Smoke Break,” though she’d never smoked a day in her life, and to be “Blown Away” so she no longer had to feel any more ... or see anyone in town who could remind her of all the things she’d never have.
    Her heart hurt in a way she’d never experienced before. The closest was when Nick had come home that summer before his junior year, Britt beside him, and that goofy grin on his face that said he was in love. Only it wasn’t directed at her, like she’d always dreamed. She’d put on makeup and fixed her hair and tried her best to look like a girl Nick would want, and the realization that she wasn’t that girl had been devastating. His smile wasn’t for her. It was for another girl, and that was the day she’d had a heart-to-heart with herself about Nick Hamilton. He would never be hers, never see her as more.
    And today did nothing more than confirm that harsh reality.
    She took another long sip of her beer, because she still had it in her fridge from when Nick was there last, and though she hated the taste of the stuff, she needed something to keep from falling over the edge into depression oblivion.
    Because she was close. Closer than she’d ever been in her life. Even when her grandmother died and her heart was broken, she knew she had others around to support her and help her deal with the pain. Nick was around. But with him being the reason for her heartache, she had no one to turn to.
    The thought of Nick being with a doctor girlfriend had been a tough pill to swallow, but then he’d told her that there wasn’t a girlfriend and they’d been talking about her, and for a moment her heart had soared. Finally, finally, he was seeing her. He had realized what she’d realized in that first game of tag—they were meant to be together.
    But then he’d just stared at her, with her staring back, never confirming that what they said meant anything at all, and she knew why—to him it was a giant joke. Nick falling for Becca; oh, how hilarious.
    She took another long pull of her beer and grimaced, kicking her feet against her back porch so the swing she’d collapsed into would move, her arm draped over her eyes so she wouldn’t have to look at the sun bragging about how big and bright it was. Becca was a mess, a giant, humiliated mess. Carrie Underwood should sing a song about her life. It’d sell a million copies, and people would sing and sing about how pitiful it was to love a man who would never love you back.
    Dear God, she was now comparing her life to sad country songs.
    Another sip of beer had her grimacing, and she tried to set the beer down on the porch without looking up at the arrogant sun and narrowly kept from falling out of the swing.
    “Give me that before you fall on your face. Besides, you hate beer.”
    Becca lifted her arm to peer at the man leaning against the railing on her porch, his arms crossed over his chest. He wore a Hamilton Stables T-shirt and worn jeans, reminding Becca of the boy she’d once known.