Silent Hearts (Hamilton Stables 3) (17 page)

“C
ome on, Bec, answer. Please answer.” Nick’s cell rang away, his hand tight around it like it could somehow fix this situation. But there was no fixing this. No, he had royally screwed up. No flowers, no chocolate, no apology could undo this mess.

It had been a week since the incident in Britt’s office, and still, he couldn’t figure out what had happened. Why he’d reacted that way.

Not only had he overreacted but he’d treated Becca like she was a stranger, an enemy—there to mess up Britt’s perfect room. And why had he kept her office so pristine anyway? Who cared? Britt would have made fun of him if she were still alive, accused him of being a hoarder, of staying still instead of moving forward. And she would be right. But every time Nick tried to go into the room, he’d freeze and back out, unable to face all those emotions. Like he was a fragile twig in an ice storm, just trying to keep from breaking.

Still, he’d told himself he would keep all of that separate from Becca, who had been his savior over the years. Time and time again she’d proven to be the only light leading him home. She was brightness to Britt’s death’s darkness, and when the two worlds collided, he hadn’t known how to deal.

But how could he explain that he wasn’t trying to hurt her, that he didn’t mean to make her feel like an outsider in his life?

He couldn’t.

Because actions and perceptions were reality, and there was no talking his way out of this horror.

Becca’s voice from her voice mail greeting filled the void, sweet and Southern to the core, and his heart twisted a bit tighter. “Bec, it’s me. Again. I am so sorry. I don’t know what overcame me. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just ... please call me.”

He hung up and started into the office, pissed at the world. It wasn’t until he exited onto the floor and started through the doors that he realized something wasn’t right. The floor was eerily quiet, everyone too focused on their work. His gaze went immediately to his assistant, and she pointed to the conference room, then immediately ducked back into her chair and hid behind her computer.

Nick’s eyes went to the lit conference room, the men in suits around the table, and all he could see was red.

The whole place became a betrayal. The staff for not warning him when he walked in, the smell of coffee in the air, as though everything were normal. As though his brothers weren’t meeting there right this second to sell the place. Again without telling him. He wondered how it was possible to feel such anger without spontaneously combusting.

But instead of walking into the conference room and throwing chairs like he wanted to, he walked over to the doorway and peered inside, watching in silence as his brothers interacted with Compton and his team. The smiles on their faces. The genuine laughs. Like a family.

When was the last time Nick had laughed so freely here, smiled and enjoyed his job? Months ... years.

He thought of what Trip had said before, about Nick hanging on for his own interest while making life miserable for everyone else there, and as he peered around the office, he tried to remember what it used to be like there. What sounds should he hear now?

Conversation, some about work, others about their kids’ latest Little League game. Because Hamilton Industries had always been the kind of place that supported a work-life balance. But as he took in his staff, he realized they weren’t talking.

No, they were focused on their computer screens, their backs hunched over, their arms tense as their fingers worked away at the keyboards.

They were miserable, every last one of them. Miserable. When had that happened? And maybe, as importantly for his current state of being, had he caused it?

He thought of the person he’d been since his father died, his refusal to release anything, a finger on every aspect of the business, and realized he had his answer. Not only had he caused their misery, he’d facilitated it. He’d helped it grow.

All for what?

Nick himself was miserable. He had no friends, he was barely speaking to his brothers, and he’d hurt the one person who could make all the rest seem unimportant.

He thought of going into the conference room, signing away the company, his life, but he was too unstable right now, and the last thing he wanted to do was make an emotional decision he couldn’t undo.

So instead of walking in, announcing his arrival, and hashing it out with his brothers, he turned on his heel and walked out.

At first, he thought of going to Becca’s and begging her to forgive him, if only for today so he could feel a bit of relief. But at his core, he wasn’t the selfish ass he’d been these last few years, and he couldn’t be that person with her. With anyone else, but not with her.

Which left only one place.

Nick slid back into his car, slower than he’d left it, and started driving. He thought of his life, all the people in it. What did he want? At the end of the day, opinions aside, judgment from others aside, what did he want?

He wanted Becca.

He wanted his family back together.

He wanted to contribute to the family business.

He wanted to marry and have kids. Though it scared him, he wanted those things.

But how could he make those things a reality after all he’d done to destroy them?

He drove on, disappearing down back road after back road, driving and thinking and driving some more, until he found himself at the one place that might help.

Nick slowed down as he pulled into the memorial park, his heart picking up speed though his car was barely inching along. As if on a string, he continued around the turns, right, left, right, left, until he could see the large headstone, a bronze Thoroughbred at the top, and parked his car.

It took a solid minute to muster the courage to get out of the car, but once he did, and took in the dead flowers on his father’s grave, he cursed himself for not being a better son, even in death. He had let his fears and sadness control him until he was no longer a strong Hamilton, like Trip and Alex. He should have tried harder. In every part of his life, he should have been stronger.

The morning air was still crisp, a hint of a storm brewing overhead, and Nick thought how fitting it would be if it rained today. Maybe then he could melt away and let his feelings overwhelm him like he craved. But he was done avoiding things. Which was why he was here. He needed to explain, and then, once he was done, he needed to ask for forgiveness.

“Hey, Dad, it’s me,” Nick said as he hovered above the grave, reading each line etched into the headstone as though he didn’t already know the words by heart.

He read the words again and thought of the day he’d chosen them, how he’d shown them to Alex and Trip, how they’d nodded along as though it weren’t a big deal, when it was everything. And maybe that was part of the animosity he felt toward his brothers now.

Nick had been there, planning every element of their father’s funeral even before he was dead, and never once had they said thanks. Had they said they were sorry he carried the burden alone. Never had they said anything at all.

He resented them. Every single thing about them. Their solidity in their careers. Their beautiful wives and stables’ worth of kids. Their lives, so perfectly put together, while his was slowly but surely falling apart.

But that wasn’t fair. They deserved to be happy, had earned that happiness, and he was a jerk for wishing anything less for them.

He ran his hands through his hair and knelt in the grass. Still wet from yesterday’s rain, it soaked through his khakis to his skin, but he remained kneeling.

“I know about William. I’m not sure why you didn’t tell us, but I know. Trip and Alex know, too. And we’ve made the decision to sell Hamilton Industries. I tried to . . .” He paused, drew a long breath, and started again. “No, I didn’t try. I let it go. I tried to micromanage everything, when what I needed to do was pull back and let business do what it did. Instead, I tried over and over to shove a square through a circular hole, and it didn’t work. To be honest, I should have sold a year ago, but I couldn’t. I just ... I didn’t want to disappoint you, and yet I’ve done that anyway. And I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry. I have never felt sorrier in my life than I feel right now, and not just for disappointing you. I’ve disappointed everyone. And I’m sorry for that, for so many things. And I would come here every day and say it all over again if I thought it would do any good, but it won’t. We still have to sell and it’s my fault, and nothing I say today and nothing I could do tomorrow could change it.”

His head dropped, the pain so real he thought he might never stand back up. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be the man you raised me to be. And I’ve screwed everything else up in my life, too. Trip and Alex hate me, and I’ve pushed away the woman I love. All for what? Fear? Doubt? I don’t know when I started second-guessing everything in my life, but I’m tired of it. I might never be able to fix anything, but I’m not willing to let fear define me anymore.”

Unable to stay there any longer, he pushed to standing and started for his car, only to spy another one behind his, and a pretty brunette outside it, leaning against the door.

“You okay?” Becca asked, her tone caring yet impersonal. The kind of question the nurse at a doctor’s office might ask you, before going on to ask every unconscionable question under the sun.

“Not really.” It was the most honest thing Nick had ever said. “What are you doing here?”

“Your brothers said they saw you at the office.”

“Trip called you?”

“Actually, it was Alex,” she said, fiddling with her shirt. “What are you doing here?”

“Did I tell you that my dad had a half brother? That he was the one trying to buy Industries?”

“No, but that’s great, though, right?”

Nick tilted his head up so he could see her more clearly. “Is it?”

“It’s family. More is almost always better. Well, unless you’re a Stark; then it’s questionable.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes the way a true Becca smile would have. The pang in his heart deepened.

“We decided to sell.” Nick laughed sarcastically. “No, they decided to sell.”

Becca nodded. “I guess it’s their decision to make.”

“What? Not you, too?”

Her eyes lifted to his, a hint of challenge within them. “I said it was their decision to make. And it is.”

“Their decision? They didn’t help build that company.”

“Neither did you.”

Nick’s face filled with anger and hurt. “You know I did. You know I worked my ass off there for years.”

“Yes, but your father and grandfather built the business, and Carter left it to all three of you. It’s a family decision, and you were cutting them out of it. Forcing them to lose the only chance you might have of selling it. That isn’t right.”

“What’s not right is them selling their shares behind my back, without telling me, forcing me to sell, too, or else piss off the whole company. This was Dad’s company! How could they want to sell it?”

Becca edged closer now, the anger in her eyes softening, but Nick was already too far gone.

“They did tell you. They’ve been telling you for weeks and months now, and Trip’s a smart businessman. He wouldn’t agree to sell if it weren’t the right decision.”

“Right, because he’s such a better businessman than me, right? His part of the company is still thriving, while we’re forced to sell mine.”

Becca closed her eyes briefly, like she was drawing up the patience a mother needed to deal with her two-year-old in the middle of a tantrum. “That’s not what I said.”

“That’s what you meant, right? That’s what everyone’s saying here. And then what? They expect me to go work at Stables, under Trip, like everyone else? Screw that.”

“You wouldn’t work under him. You would all three run it together. Why are you being a baby about this? Yes, I said it. You’re being a baby. Businesses are bought and sold every day. That doesn’t make you a failure.”

Nick stared at the woman before him, sure that what she was saying was true, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe it. He’d hit rock bottom, nowhere to go but to swim in his own misery, and she deserved better. It was time he did the right things in his life—with his brothers ... and with Becca. “I can’t do this.”

Becca’s gaze flicked over from Carter’s grave to Nick. “What?”

“This; you and me. I was never the right man for you. This whole thing makes that abundantly clear. I’m not the man for anyone right now. I’ve got personal shit stacked up to the sky and no idea how to tackle any of it. I’m a mess and I don’t know how to clean it up. I’m not bringing you down with me. I care about you too much.”

Becca turned to get in her car and paused at the door. “You know, screw that. I came here as your friend. Us, you and me, whatever we were, was over the moment you treated me like an intruder in your home the other night.
I
ended this. Don’t mistake that. Me, not you. Which maybe seems trivial to you, but it matters to me. Still, you were my best friend and Alex called, and I knew you must be hurting, so I came. And yet again, you’ve tossed me to the ground. I’m over it. I can’t be around you anymore. You’re toxic, and I just ...
I
can’t do this anymore.”

She slipped into her Highlander and drove away, leaving Nick staring after her, sure that he’d ruined the only good thing in his life. But his misery didn’t need company, and in the end, he was doing her a favor.

Twenty-plus years of friendship . . . gone.

Now Nick had lost everything.

B
ecca stopped at her mailbox and pulled out all the envelopes and retail mailers inside, her heart so heavy it could have weighed down the whole car, the whole world. How had things gone from good to bad so quickly?

Rain had set in and thunder boomed overhead, matching her mood, and for once she was glad she lived alone. She didn’t want to explain to anyone what had happened with Nick, especially when she couldn’t really explain it to herself.

The great problem was that Becca was never Nick’s first choice. His first choice died years ago, and she would forever be a ghost of a version of Britt. Becca might be the person who could fill the space for a bit, but she would never perfectly conform.

And while she loved Nick, so much so that she’d gone to the grave today despite her lovesick heart, she wouldn’t survive a relationship with him. Her ego, her heart, her sanity couldn’t survive it. She would forever be trying to measure up and failing at every turn.

Becca dropped the mail on the kitchen counter and went on to her room to put on some warm clothes. Once she was in her flannel PJs and fluffy socks, she padded back into the kitchen, just as a knock sounded on the door.

A part of her hoped it would be Nick, on his knees, begging her to forgive him. But an apology wouldn’t fix this, and besides, he’d made his decision. He was over it, over her.

Sadness took hold of her again, until she peered down at the giant box on her front porch, Walmart printed on the outside, and she squealed with excitement. She might not have Nick or a fancy job or an acceptance to a college. But she did have a Keurig.

She went to work tearing open the Walmart box, then the Keurig box, until she finally had it out and on her counter in all its shiny black wonder. Wrapping her arms around it, she hugged it close. “Thank God for coffee.” Then she followed the instructions to clean it and finally had it all set up beside her refrigerator, the other one still there like a tube TV beside a flat screen.

“Sorry to do this, but you’re out of here.” She threw the old one in the trash and grinned at her new fancy coffeemaker, reminding herself that in life it was the little things that mattered, and whatever those little things were, you should hold on to them. Appreciate them. And right now, her little thing was a Keurig coffeemaker.

She turned it on and placed a K-Cup inside, started the coffee, and then grabbed the mail. Flipping through each envelope, she sorted them into bills to pay or junk, and that was when her fingers latched onto the next to the last envelope.

Vanderbilt University.

Her heart heaved as she peered down at the envelope. “Oh my God.”

It was a large envelope, but it was thin. Too thin for anything awesome to be inside. But maybe everything was online now and the letter just read that she was accepted and directed her where to go online to look for the rest. That could happen. Maybe.

Stop being a chicken and open it
, she told herself. She decided to grab her coffee instead, sure she needed a little liquid courage, and in Becca’s world, that liquid was coffee.

Finally, she had her coffee in hand and no more excuses.

With a deep breath, she slowly tore the top of the envelope inch by inch. Snails moved at a faster pace, but she was too nervous and excited to go fast. Once the envelope was open, she slid out the letter inside, closed her eyes to say a quick prayer, then reopened them and looked down, only to read the words, “Dear Ms. Stark, Thank you for your interest in Vanderbilt University. We are sorry to inform you . . .”

She didn’t get in. And they were sorry, which was just another way of saying she wasn’t good enough.

She thought of her application, and how silly she was to think she could go back to school after all these years and compete with kids coming out of school with a wealth of extracurricular activities and studies tailored specifically for college. They spent four years preparing for college, and she’d naively thought one afternoon of applying would be enough.

And now for the rest of her life she’d work at that diner, pouring drinks and bringing out food, and for the right person that would be fine. There was no dishonor in working hard and earning a living, however you did it, but Becca wanted more. And then, to add salt to the wound, she’d have to listen to the town talk about how she and Nick broke up, how it was a shame but expected. And she’d have to face running into Nick and the Hamiltons there and all over town, knowing what had happened between them. How could she face everyone who already thought she wasn’t good enough and confirm that they were right—she wasn’t.

God, what was she going to do?

She made another cup of coffee, though this one didn’t bring her the happiness of the first, and sat down on the couch, eager to find a fix, but there was nothing in sight, no hope here.

Sadness overwhelmed her and she pulled the throw off the back of the couch and placed it over her legs, but then she thought of that ivory throw in Britt’s office and Nick’s reaction, and Becca threw the blanket across the room. A sob broke free and she lay down, thinking of how stupid she’d been, and how much she wished she could turn back time.

If only she could turn back time. She would keep her feelings to herself and try to find a way to move on, meet a good man and dedicate herself to loving him, put aside her silly childhood crush. But how could you make yourself stop loving someone? How could you repair the hole in your heart at learning he didn’t love you back?

A fresh sob worked through her body, and though she hated crying, she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop it. So she curled up without a blanket, without a college acceptance letter ... and without Nick.

 

“Order up, Becca.” Sage eyed her, sadness creasing the lines around his eyes, and Becca wished she could hug the old man for caring so much.

News had circulated through Triple Run—the Cinderella story was over. A Stark would not be marrying a Hamilton. Half the town was thrilled, the other sad that fairy tales weren’t a reality, at least not in Triple Run, or maybe just not for Becca.

“Thanks.” She grabbed the plates and started away as Sage reached out to stop her.

“You okay?”

Becca bit her lip and tried to look at him, but she couldn’t quite make her eyes lift. Her mama always said time would heal any hurting, and if that didn’t work, try some wine. Well, Becca was ready to toss in her coffee for a wine habit just to see if it would help. Only she had never been a pleasant drunk and she hated headaches, so the wine thing might not suit her after all. “I will be.”

“You let me know if anyone gives you trouble.” The cook’s eyes fell on the trustee table in the center of the diner, one seat empty. “I put Willow on that table.”

“Thank you.”

Becca started away just as Sage’s rough voice spoke again. “Don’t let them make you feel inferior. We might not have wealth, but that doesn’t make us less than them. The Hamiltons have long been royalty here, but that doesn’t mean they rule us. You are just as important as them, and you deserve a man who knows what he has.”

She nodded to him, unable to form words and thankful for the first time that she’d cried so hard the day before, because maybe now she was all cried out and could survive this day without embarrassing herself.

“All right, then; take that before it burns your hand.”

Becca set down the plates at the first table and continued on around the diner, setting down plates, faking smiles, trying her very best not to be the dark cloud in the restaurant, bringing everyone else down with her depression. But the truth was she was sad in a way she never thought possible, and it wasn’t just because of Nick. It was the realization that all her dreams were just that—dreams. Silly, ridiculous dreams that would never be a reality.

Needing a moment, she motioned to Sage that she was going on her nonsmoker break and stepped outside.

“Becca!”

What now? Becca spun around to see who had called for her at the same time Reagan ran up to her.

“There you are!”

For a second, fear replaced Becca’s sadness. “Are you okay? Are the kids?”

Reagan waved her off. “Yeah, yeah. It’s not me. It’s you. Look what was delivered to my house by mistake! Look! It’s huge and thick and has to mean you were accepted.” She passed Becca a large envelope, the words
University of Kentucky
printed across the front.

Becca’s eyes widened as she looked down at it and then up at her sister. Reagan was right—the envelope was huge and bulky. But Becca had already been through this once, and she was afraid her fragile heart couldn’t take any more breaking. She passed it back to her sister. “Can you put it on my counter? I can’t open it right now.”

“Why?”

“What if it’s a no? I mean, surely it’s a no, right?”

“They don’t send nos in giant envelopes like this. Open it.” Reagan tried to put the envelope back in Becca’s hands, but she stepped away, waving her off.

“I can’t.”

“Fine, if you won’t open it, I’ll open it for you.” Reagan ripped open the envelope and pulled out the contents, a smile forming as she read the letter. Happiness took over her face as she focused back on Becca. “They said yes. You’re in!” She jumped up and down and handed the letter over to Becca, who was sure her sister was joking. Surely she was joking.

But then Becca scanned the letter, tears pricking her eyes as she read. Apparently, her eyes were still open to happy tears, because she was in. Accepted. “We’re pleased to inform you that you’ve been accepted to the College of Nursing.”

“Oh my God.”

“I know! You’re going to be a nurse!”

The letter rattled in Becca’s hands, and she realized she was shaking, excitement moving through her, a rush unlike anything she’d felt before. The rush of accomplishment, the rush of success, the rush of something finally going right.

“I’m going to be a nurse.”