big eyes held sadness.
"I’m afraid so, pal," Jack had said, kneeling down to face his son. "But I’m sure she’ll come back soon to go ridin’."
"But she promised."
"I know. I’m sure she has a good reason why she can’t go today. Tell you what, we’ll go ridin’ anyway. Just you and me. How does that sound?"
Sam had sniffed. "Yeah, that’d be good I guess."
Jack had spent the rest of the day with his son. His heart drank in the pleasure of being with his little boy. When Sam had fallen asleep to a story of the Old West, he’d had an innocent smile on his face.
He’d finally stopped wondering why Holly hadn’t stayed to spend the rest of the weekend.
Jack had taken care of his son, made sure he was happy and unhurt, because that’s what a father did.
No one existed to take away Jack’s own hurt.
Nearly
midnight
, and here he sat, watching his son sleep. How was it possible Sam had been so upset by Holly’s departure? He’d known her only two days.
Jack understood. Holly had that effect on people. He’d only known her for a little over a week himself, unless he counted their hot one nighter. That only added ten hours, anyway.
Damn her! Her age had never made a speck of difference to him. That had to be what this was about. How could she disappear without any explanation other than "something suddenly came up?" It sounded like a bad sitcom. Luisa had said it had come out of nowhere. Holly hadn’t gotten a phone call or anything. She’d just up and said she needed to go home.
If she’d come to the barn to tell him what had happened, or if she’d even told Luisa, he’d have understood.
But no. She’d just left.
Now she hadn’t called.
Jack leaned down and gave his son a quick peck on the cheek. "Sleep tight, pal," he whispered. He tucked the cotton sheet around him a little tighter and left the room.
He fell on his bed, still fully clothed.
It was over.
Hell, it hadn’t even begun.
* * * *
Holly looked at her watch.
Eight fourteen a.m.
Not even a minute had passed since she’d last looked. Was it too early to call Mark? It was Monday, but it was a holiday. He’d given the students his cell number, but he might not appreciate such an early call on a holiday.
Frantically, she picked up her own cell and dialed. Her heart beat like a stampede of buffalo. She’d risk Mark’s wrath. She needed to talk to Jack, to tell him how she felt, and why she’d left. God, please let him understand.
Five minutes later, Jack’s number programmed into her cell, she listened to the ringing on the other end. It wasn’t ringing, actually. It was Glen Campbell singing Rhinestone Cowboy. She couldn’t help but smile. Jack hadn’t even been alive when that song was popular.
"This is Jack," came his whiskey-smooth voice.
"Jack? It’s me."
A pause. A long pause. A pause so fucking long Holly thought for sure the earth had revolved once around the sun already. Then, finally, "Holly."
She sighed. "Yeah, it’s me. Listen, I want to apologize for—"
He cut her off. "Was it an emergency, Holly?"
"Well, not exactly, but—"
"Is someone dead?"
"What?"
"You heard me."
"No. Of course not. No one’s dead."
"Anyone in the hospital?"
"No. Jack, just listen—"
"Then there isn’t any reason why you couldn’t come tell me before you left. Hell, I’d have driven you home. I’d have done anything for you."
Her heart skipped, and tears blurred her vision. "Oh, Jack. Please. I do have an explanation."
"Not one I care to hear."
"But I—"
"Good-bye, Holly."
"Jack!" Had he hung up? Damn these cell phones! They won’t even tell you when someone hangs up on you!
"Jack! Jack!"
No reply.
A sob broke through and she threw her cell phone against the wall. It clattered to the ground. She ran to it, relieved it was still intact for the most part. She slid the battery cover back in place and hit redial.
More Glen Campbell.
He didn’t answer and it didn’t go to voicemail.
Damn! She
"I’m afraid so, pal," Jack had said, kneeling down to face his son. "But I’m sure she’ll come back soon to go ridin’."
"But she promised."
"I know. I’m sure she has a good reason why she can’t go today. Tell you what, we’ll go ridin’ anyway. Just you and me. How does that sound?"
Sam had sniffed. "Yeah, that’d be good I guess."
Jack had spent the rest of the day with his son. His heart drank in the pleasure of being with his little boy. When Sam had fallen asleep to a story of the Old West, he’d had an innocent smile on his face.
He’d finally stopped wondering why Holly hadn’t stayed to spend the rest of the weekend.
Jack had taken care of his son, made sure he was happy and unhurt, because that’s what a father did.
No one existed to take away Jack’s own hurt.
Nearly
midnight
, and here he sat, watching his son sleep. How was it possible Sam had been so upset by Holly’s departure? He’d known her only two days.
Jack understood. Holly had that effect on people. He’d only known her for a little over a week himself, unless he counted their hot one nighter. That only added ten hours, anyway.
Damn her! Her age had never made a speck of difference to him. That had to be what this was about. How could she disappear without any explanation other than "something suddenly came up?" It sounded like a bad sitcom. Luisa had said it had come out of nowhere. Holly hadn’t gotten a phone call or anything. She’d just up and said she needed to go home.
If she’d come to the barn to tell him what had happened, or if she’d even told Luisa, he’d have understood.
But no. She’d just left.
Now she hadn’t called.
Jack leaned down and gave his son a quick peck on the cheek. "Sleep tight, pal," he whispered. He tucked the cotton sheet around him a little tighter and left the room.
He fell on his bed, still fully clothed.
It was over.
Hell, it hadn’t even begun.
* * * *
Holly looked at her watch.
Eight fourteen a.m.
Not even a minute had passed since she’d last looked. Was it too early to call Mark? It was Monday, but it was a holiday. He’d given the students his cell number, but he might not appreciate such an early call on a holiday.
Frantically, she picked up her own cell and dialed. Her heart beat like a stampede of buffalo. She’d risk Mark’s wrath. She needed to talk to Jack, to tell him how she felt, and why she’d left. God, please let him understand.
Five minutes later, Jack’s number programmed into her cell, she listened to the ringing on the other end. It wasn’t ringing, actually. It was Glen Campbell singing Rhinestone Cowboy. She couldn’t help but smile. Jack hadn’t even been alive when that song was popular.
"This is Jack," came his whiskey-smooth voice.
"Jack? It’s me."
A pause. A long pause. A pause so fucking long Holly thought for sure the earth had revolved once around the sun already. Then, finally, "Holly."
She sighed. "Yeah, it’s me. Listen, I want to apologize for—"
He cut her off. "Was it an emergency, Holly?"
"Well, not exactly, but—"
"Is someone dead?"
"What?"
"You heard me."
"No. Of course not. No one’s dead."
"Anyone in the hospital?"
"No. Jack, just listen—"
"Then there isn’t any reason why you couldn’t come tell me before you left. Hell, I’d have driven you home. I’d have done anything for you."
Her heart skipped, and tears blurred her vision. "Oh, Jack. Please. I do have an explanation."
"Not one I care to hear."
"But I—"
"Good-bye, Holly."
"Jack!" Had he hung up? Damn these cell phones! They won’t even tell you when someone hangs up on you!
"Jack! Jack!"
No reply.
A sob broke through and she threw her cell phone against the wall. It clattered to the ground. She ran to it, relieved it was still intact for the most part. She slid the battery cover back in place and hit redial.
More Glen Campbell.
He didn’t answer and it didn’t go to voicemail.
Damn! She
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