No One's Hero (Chadwell Hearts)

Title Page

Copyright Page

No One's Hero (Chadwell Hearts)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty One

Chapter Thirty Two

Chapter Thirty Three

Chapter Thirty Four

Chapter Thirty Five

Chapter Thirty Six

Chapter Thirty Seven

Chapter Thirty Eight

Chapter Thirty Nine

Also By Kelly Walker

About the Author

—-♥—-

For my fellow passengers on the hot mess express,

I love you ladies. Someday, we'll build our village.

I can't believe our monkeys are eight!

—-♥—-

L
exi

Winning an argument against my sister is impossible. She’s dead.

“Your mom worries about you,” my father says, rubbing absentmindedly at a bare patch on his ancient recliner. I think it used to be considered plaid, but now it’s just plain. “You’re it for her, kiddo.”

And don’t I know it. I’ve been ‘it’ since I was three days old, when my twin sister passed away. “It’s only four hours away, Dad. I’ll be fine.” My choice of school is the one thing I haven’t let them use Amelia’s memory to win. I can’t keep living for both of us. This I need to do just for me.

As far away as possible.

Dad gives me a sad yet understanding smile. The two of us have handling Mom down to a tragic science. “It isn’t you I’m worried about, Lexi. I know you can handle yourself just fine. Lord knows you’ve proved that.”

The wall clock chimes, announcing a new hour, and I look to the door. The gray light of a foggy Pennsylvania morning wafts through the same white café curtains that have hung in our front window since I was a toddler. “I need to get going, Dad. I know Mom will feel better if I’m not still on the road after dark.” And delaying isn’t going to make this goodbye—which won’t be my last of the day, I’m sure—any easier.

“You’re stopping at the farm before you go, right? Axel called while you were in the shower to make sure.”

A little wave of panic rises within me at the thought of Dad and Axel talking. For years I’ve managed to keep the different facets of my life separate. Axel is protective enough of me—for no good reason. He doesn’t need to know how bad Mom has gotten. If he knew, he’d feel obligated to try to fix it. “Yup. I promised Angel I would.” Technically, Angel’s name is Tess, but when I first met her, she was hiding from her psycho ex-boyfriend and introduced herself as Angel, so I think she might always be Angel in my mind. It’s just habit to call her that.

“Axel and I were talking, and we think—”

“Dad! Stop. I’ll be fine.” I’ve heard this argument more times than I can count over the last few weeks, and if I have to hear it again my ears are going to explode.

Dad’s lips press into a thin line, and he shrugs, telling me I’ve won. For now, at least. He pushes against the recliner, hoisting himself up, and I follow him onto our back porch. The shrill creak of the swing scratches at my ears, and I resist the urge to shudder. It’s a sure sign my mom is having one of her ‘bad days.’

“Mom,” I whisper, hoping she’ll look up at me. She continues to sway with the swing, rocking back and forth while the wind plays with a loose tendril of her graying hair. Her bird-like fingers clutch the chain that suspends the rickety wood from the eaves. “I’ll see you soon—Thanksgiving probably. Okay?”

“Martha, did you hear Lexi?” My dad steps around me and lightly touches Mom’s shoulder. There’s tenderness in the gesture, and it almost makes me feel guilty for how frustrated I get with her. After an awkward silence while my mother remains oblivious to our presence, Dad turns to me. “Go on, kiddo. One of those days.”

I know I shouldn’t feel as angry as I do, but I can’t help it. I only get to leave for college once, and my mother is so lost in fantasies of the daughter she lost, she’s missing my moment. No matter what I do, I’ll only ever be half of enough. “Whatever.” I stomp back through the house, grab my purse from the chipped beige counter, and let the front door slam behind me as I beeline for the driveway.

My dented sedan chirps in response to my frantic push of the button on the key fob, the locks clicking in chorus. As soon as I jerk the door open, I’m greeted by the lingering aroma of hay and leather polish, a by-product of my muddy boots waiting on the passenger side floorboard, my favorite fleece pullover that’s tossed into the backseat, and my custom saddle in its case. Every crevice of my little car has been packed to overflowing with everything I need for my first year of college, along with the tools of my daily routine.

Today is the first day in I can’t remember how long that I haven’t been at Chadwell Farms at the crack of dawn, feeding the horses and letting them out. As hard as my non-goodbye with my mother is, I think saying goodbye to the horses will be even harder.

I keep trying to remind myself that a whole new group of horses waits for me at Chancellorsville College as part of the East Coast’s leading collegiate equestrian program.

“Call when you get there!” Dad stands on the front step, wiping at his eyes.

Fighting against the growing lump in my throat, I toss him a little wave and back down our driveway. Towering trees keep silent watch of the disappointed tears slowly snaking their way down my cheeks as my car weaves around the sharp bend that marks the halfway point between our house and the farm. I think I could navigate this road in my sleep, and my foot presses heavily on the accelerator out of habit. The familiar thrill of taking the curve too fast shivers up my spine, saying a mental ‘screw you’ to all the times my father has reminded me to be careful driving, because my mother couldn’t handle it if something happened to me also. Just once I wish he’d realize how insulting it is to be constantly told to be careful for my mother’s sake, because of Amelia. I’d like to think I wouldn’t mind so much if he said, “Be careful because I love you. You’re important to me.” Instead I get, “Be careful because you’ll have to do.”

On the other side of the bend, I slow, then make a gentle turn into the long lane of Chadwell Farm. Here I won’t be careless, because I don’t want to startle the horses. As anxious as I am to get to college, eager for the freedom I’ve so desperately needed, this is the part of my life I’m going to miss. Axel’s family and their barn have offered me the things I’ve cherished most: solace, income, and friendship.

Of course, it also almost cost me my life, but that isn’t something I’m planning to dwell on. It’s just one more thing I’m leaving behind.

Angel’s Mustang is in the driveway, dwarfed by Axel’s truck. I’m surprised they didn’t ride together, considering how joined at the hip they are. I don’t recognize the black SUV parked behind Angel, and I suppress a small shudder, recalling the last time I arrived to an unfamiliar SUV here. The day Nick came for Angel is one we’d all like to forget. Unfortunately, with his trial due to start early next year, we can’t. Not yet.

Dennis waves from the front paddock, where he’s working a young colt on a long line. The black horse’s sinewy muscles bunch and shift rhythmically beneath his glossy coat, carrying him around on powerfully impressive, leggy strides. He’ll grow into those long legs soon enough. This is the first time in years that I won’t be helping him get ready for the fall auction. We—er, they—breed some of the best Thoroughbreds on the East Coast here, and Chadwell foals fetch top dollar. I’m not sure if I’ll be coming back here after I graduate or not, but if I do Axel has already said I can help him and his father expand their operation. Dennis isn’t really a sentimental kind of guy, and he already gave me a gift certificate to my favorite tack shop, so I’m not surprised when he doesn’t stop and follow me to the barn.

That’s something I’ve always appreciated about Dennis. He isn’t clingy. Plus, I’m sort of grateful for the chance to cry in private. Chadwell Phantom Maiden, Fannie for short, is my favorite of the broodmares, and Dennis has her in her stall, waiting for me. She’s heavy with foal, and I eye her belly with brief regret, knowing I won’t be here for the birth. Her ears prick forward as I rub her ebony muzzle. “You be a good Mama again, okay? I know you will be.” She’s the best. Unlike my own.

Fannie gives me a look, like she’s rolling her eyes. Maybe she is. Just imagining it makes me laugh, and after I’ve fed her the peppermints I brought tucked in my pocket, I sigh and head toward the front of the main house.

Large wooden barrels with gorgeous fall mums spilling over the edges frame each side of the front entrance. They’re a new addition, another of Vanessa’s attempts to, “Brighten this place up so we can forget that awful day.” Whatever. She wasn’t here, and neither was her daughter, so I don’t really see how it was so awful for her. She was in the middle of her European cruise with Axel’s father. They didn’t even cut their vacation short after their son faced down a gun-toting lunatic, but from the rumors I’ve heard, Vanessa has been using the incident to garner sympathy with the rest of the trophy wives in the Horseman’s Prestige Society. Axel’s dad, Tucker, isn’t so bad, but not a one of us likes Vanessa. It might be wrong of me, but I’m hoping she isn’t here. If I were sure she wasn’t I wouldn’t bother knocking—this place is almost like my second home—but I don’t want to push my luck.

Angel opens the door a few seconds after I poke the doorbell, an unreadable expression on her face. Something isn’t right, that much I’m sure of, but I have no idea what. “Angel?” I cock my head to the side, looking past her into the hallway. “What’s wrong?” I ask, leaning down to pet Molly, the tiny bundle of fur barking at my knees.

Angel gently worries her lower lip with her teeth and lets her curtain of dark hair obscure part of her face—a sure sign that she’s hiding something. “Come on, they’re waiting in the living room.” I follow her closely, a cauldron of dread brewing in the pit of my stomach. Having had her fill of greeting me, Molly trails at Angel’s heels, her constant shadow. Just before we reach the living room, Angel pauses, looking back at me over her shoulder. “And Lexi? I’m sorry.” Without another word she ducks through the French doors, leaving me to choose whether to stand in the hallway wondering what the hell is going on, or to follow.

Shoulders back, I stride into the living room like a prisoner on the way to their execution, sure that whatever is going on, it isn’t good.

—-♥—-

K
evin

It’s going to be an easy job.

Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself, as I do my best to wear a circle into the gleaming wood floors of Axel’s old man’s living room. We’re waiting for my new ward to show up and get this show on the road. I’ve about had my fill of watching Axel and Tess play kissy-face on the couch, but Chelsea’s repeated attempts to strike up conversation aren’t much of an alternative. She knows what I do, and seems to think we’re kindred fucking souls or something.