The Bull Rider's Homecoming (14 page)

“Annie,” he said, feeling a swell of irritation mixed with regret. “This was the plan from the beginning.” She raised her eyes then to meet his gaze. Her expression was oddly calm.

“Yes.”

She didn't say anything else, which made Trace want to fill the void. But with what would he fill it? Reiterations of the fact that he'd always said he was leaving? She wasn't arguing that.

“You have to admit that my staying would be complicated. I mean...I love the time we've had, but we have to be realistic.”

“Yes.”

Trace pressed his lips together, wishing she would argue with him. Annie took a step back, smoothing her hands down the front of his shirt before dropping them to her sides.

“Why do you have this thing about moving on, Trace?”

“I was raised on the move. Even in Reno, we moved all the time, chasing cheap rent. It's all I know.”

“And you can't learn anything else?”

He leaned back, regarding her from half-closed eyes. “I'm not going to try and fail, using you and Katie and Kristen as test subjects. You even said you didn't want that to happen.” While they'd worked out their friendship agreement at her kitchen table, weeks ago. She might have changed what she wanted for herself, but he sincerely doubted that she'd changed what she wanted for her girls.

She drew in a breath and he knew she was going to say, “But what if you don't fail,” before the words came out of her mouth. When they did, he shook his head.

“I can't take the chance with you guys. I don't think I can be what you need me to be.” He swallowed hard. “I
know
I can't be what you need me to be.”

A look of extreme sadness crossed her face, then slowly she nodded. “I guess there's not much else to say, is there?”

* * *

T
RACE
LEFT
THE
day before Grady and Lex came home, even though it was still a few days before his Portland comeback rodeo.

Annie told herself that it was best that he left when he did, before she lost the battle with herself and tried to argue him into staying. The girls were stunned, however, to discover that Trace had left, just as he'd said he would. Apparently they'd clung to the belief that his event would get canceled or that he would come to his senses and realize that a butterfly play was far more important than an event in which he could win thousands of dollars.

“He couldn't miss his event,” Lex said in a no-nonsense way as she helped the twins get ready backstage. “He has to start making his living again. He told you he had to leave, right?”

“Right,” Katie agreed.

Annie's mouth tightened.

True to his word, Trace hadn't made a single promise he hadn't kept. She couldn't say the same, since she'd promised herself she'd be satisfied with whatever she got out of the relationship. She hadn't expected to fall in love with the guy. She hadn't expected to want more than he was capable of giving. He'd been honest, so this was all on her. She'd allowed herself to believe that he would come to understand how great it was to be part of a family—a secret hope she hadn't fully acknowledged until he was gone.

“You look amazing,” Lex said as she knelt down in front of Kristen to retie her sash and help her adjust her glittery scarf wings. Oddly, it was fearless Kristen who was suffering from stage fright rather than Katie, who was humming under her breath as Annie pinned her antennae headband into place.

“What if I forget my lines?” Kristen asked.

Oh, yeah, this had all the earmarks of a disaster.

“Then you'll be in good company,” Lex said before Annie could answer. Kristen tilted her head and Lex continued, “Every great actor has forgotten lines.”

“Even Princess Bettina?” Katie asked.

Lex nodded solemnly, even though Princess Bettina was digitally animated.

“If you forget your lines,” Annie said, “Mrs. Lawrence will whisper the first few words to you from behind the curtain. Remember?”

“Or you could just make something up,” Lex said. “It's called improvising. Lots of actors do it.”

Annie truly hoped it didn't come to that.

“Parents,” Mrs. Lawrence said as she came into the room. “It's time for you to take your seats out front. Actors, positions, please.”

Lex and Annie took turns hugging the girls, then left the stage area to take the seats that Grady had saved them front and center. Grady shifted in his chair and Annie got the distinct feeling that he was as nervous as Kristen.

“They'll do fine,” he said as she sat beside him.

Annie hoped so. As it was, she had to wait for almost five minutes before the twins came on stage as the first vanguard of the butterfly patrol. Kristen fluttered her scarf wings, but Katie, who'd been so nonchalant about the performance, looked out over the audience and froze. Her eyes grew large and Annie had the distinct feeling that her daughter was about to clamber down the stairs at the edge of the stage.

“She's going to bolt,” she said to Grady.

Before she took flight, the boy in the rabbit suit nudged Katie and repeated his line. She turned toward him as if surprised to see him. He said his line a third time. Katie blinked a couple of times then said, “I'm so glad to be in the forest today,” before turning to look back out over the audience.

“Mrs. Lawrence,” the boy whispered loudly, shooting a glance toward the heavy backstage curtain, “she said the wrong line.”

A collective chuckle went up from the audience and then Kristen said to him, “If you forget your line, you're
supposed
to make something up.”

Lex pressed her lips together, but her shoulders were shaking as she shot Annie an apologetic look, then Grady leaned close to whisper, “Perfect kid plays are boring. This is entertainment.”

Annie had to agree. A few ad-libs were preferable to stilted dialogue, although it, too, had its charm when delivered by seven-year-olds.

There was a murmur behind the curtain and Katie squared her shoulders and said, “I hope the other butterflies find us soon, before we have to fly to our new home for the summer.”

On cue several children in colorful scarves whirled onto the stage, and the twins joined their band of butterfly brothers and sisters, dancing and swirling before leaving the stage. Annie's shoulders sagged in relief. Now she could relax until the end of the performance when the group song ended the play.

After the song, the children joined hands and bowed deeply, then raced off stage. Not long after that, they came spilling out of the stage side door and joined their proud parents.

“I was so proud of how you handled it when you forgot your line,” Annie said as she hugged Katie.

“I thought I saw Trace, but it wasn't him.”

Annie's heart lurched. “When did you think you saw Trace?”

“When I forgot my line. But it was Vanessa's dad. His hat is like Trace's hat.”

Annie let out a small sigh. They all missed Trace. He'd left a hole in their lives, but things would get better.

They couldn't get much worse.

Chapter Fourteen

Trace stretched as he waited for his bull to settle in the chute. He'd been lucky enough to draw Bumblebee, a tough little bull who could be counted on to get a guy into the money. He climbed onboard and fixed his grip then nodded at the gatekeeper. The gate opened and Bumblebee didn't move. The gate closed again.

“Keep going?”

Trace nodded. He didn't know what the deal was, but he'd never seen Bumblebee balk before. Once again the gate opened and this time Bumblebee reared out of the chute, but he wasn't feeling it tonight. He began a series of lackluster short jumps followed by one high buck then a couple more short jumps. The whistle blew and Trace disembarked, jarring his shoulder on the landing. Bumblebee stopped bucking and trotted toward the gate, leaving Trace staring after him in disgust. It wasn't bad enough to garner a reride, but it was bad enough to keep him out of the standings.

Thanks, Bumblebee.

He kept his head down as he strode toward the gate and left the arena. Not in the points, not in the money. Two events in a row. This was not the comeback he'd hoped for.

“Maybe you'll draw better next week.” He turned to see Grady walking a few steps behind him.

“Here's hoping,” he agreed. Trace had no idea how much Grady knew about what had happened between him and Annie, but he got the idea his friend was none too pleased with him.

“So you're going to St. Louis.”

“Where else would I be going?”

“I know where you probably shouldn't go.”

“Where's that?” Trace asked, pushing his hat back as he spoke.

“You probably shouldn't go back to Gavin.” Trace started to speak, but Grady cut him off. “I don't know what happened with you and my sister, but she's not happy. And my nieces aren't happy. When I offered you my place, I hadn't expected you to screw with my family.”

“That's the last thing I wanted to do.”

“Good. Because you're not getting a second chance at it.” Trace felt something twist hard inside his gut at Grady's adamant tone. “You need to stay away from her.”

“And you need to let Annie fight her own battles.” They both turned to see Lex standing behind them, one hand propped on her hip.

“Lex...”

She appeared unimpressed with the warning in her fiancé's voice. Their gazes clashed for a moment, and then Grady turned back to Trace. “My fiancée and I disagree on this matter, but I still want you to stay away from her.”

What if I don't?

Trace bit back the words and even though Lex had seemingly supported him, when he met her gaze, it was hard and unyielding and again his gut twisted. He'd done the right thing. Yes, the time with Annie and her girls had been special, but it'd been a moment out of time. The equivalent of a summer romance. It killed him, though, to think that he'd caused them pain. That hadn't been on the agenda. That had been the freaking reason he'd left.

Someone hailed Grady, and even though their business wasn't fully dealt with, Trace took the opportunity to head to the locker room. If Grady wanted to discuss the matter further, he knew where to find him.

* * *

A
NNIE
PACED
THROUGH
the store, shifting the jewelry, redraping towels over the edge of the open steamer trunk, hanging a child's cowboy hat with a beaded hatband on a wall hook then taking it back off again. As she went for the broom for the third time that day, Danielle said, “Stop.”

Annie turned with the broom in her hand as Danielle came out from behind the counter. Gently Danielle took the broom from her and set it back in the corner. “We need tea.”

“I'm fine—”

“Tea,” Danielle said firmly. She filled the electric kettle. “Sit.” She waved at the chairs and Annie wondered if it was wrong to hope that a customer would come in right now to save her.

Why do you need saving?

A question she didn't want to answer any more than she wanted to sit and drink herbal tea instead of pacing madly through the store tidying and rearranging. And that meant that she needed to do exactly what she'd been trying to teach the twins to do...face up to the fact that if you feel like hiding something—a broken glass, a rip in your best dress—there's a good chance that you need to confront whatever it is dead-on, deal with the consequences and keep going rather than let it eat at you.

Annie sat in her regular chair at the antique table where they held their business meetings every Wednesday morning. Danielle placed a delicate tea cup in front of her and a few minutes later poured hot water into the teapot. They sat in silence as the mint tea steeped, then Danielle served them both.

“I apologize for not being myself.”

Danielle's lips curved slightly, but she didn't say anything before she sipped her tea.

“I'll be fine in a day or two.” Or maybe a week or two.
Year
or two. How had she become so attached to a man who'd been so honest about leaving?

“I miss Trace.” There. She'd come right out and said it. He'd been gone for over a month, but she'd just heard from Grady that he was paired up with Brick again at an exhibition performance and she was worried.

“Are you going to do something about it?”

“Missing him? What can I do? I can't force him to settle down.”

“No. You can't.” Danielle took another sip. “Force never works.”

“People need to do what they need to do.”

“I found that out with Grady. He needed to ride bulls more than he needed me.”

“I guess you did.” Her brother's former engagement to Danielle used to be a subject she avoided, until she finally realized that she felt more sensitive about it than Danielle did.

“However...” She drew the word out then set down her teacup. “That's not to say that people always know what they need to do.”

“Meaning?”

Danielle gave a small shrug. “Sometimes people are afraid of following a certain path for reasons that have nothing to do with the path itself.”

“I can't change those reasons.”

“But you can challenge them.”

Annie slowly shook her head. She'd tried challenging reasons more than once in her life and had come up a sorry loser every time. If she'd had her way, her brother wouldn't have gotten back on a bull after the first time he ended up in the hospital. But trying to change Grady's mind about bull riding had been like trying to change the course of a tornado. She'd tried to change Wes's mind when he told her that he wasn't ready for fatherhood. A lot of good that had done her. He'd skipped out during the night, never to be heard from again, except for the quarterly child support checks that came into the bank like clockwork. He truly didn't want to risk having contact with his children.

And then there'd been her father.
Please, Dad. Spend less time on the road.
He hadn't. It had broken her mother's heart.

“Some things you have to accept,” she said in a low voice. “When someone makes a decision about their life, then you have to take it as it is and hope for the best.”

“What if it's the wrong decision?”

“Who am I to decide that?”

Danielle picked up her cup. “Someone with a vested interest.” Annie drew in a breath before Danielle continued, “I think he loves you. I think he's pretty scared of that fact.”

“I do, too.” Annie set down her tea, barely touched, as the bell over the door rang. “I appreciate the tea and concern, but I am all right. I just need to grieve.” She gave a small smile. “Part of the healing process.”

She'd made it sound so easy and so matter-of-fact when it was anything but. She'd been in love before. She'd been in love with Wes. Her world had shattered when he'd left and she'd thought it would never be whole again. But it was, and if anything, she was stronger and happier for knowing that she could survive heartbreak and come out whole. She'd done it once, and she could do it again.

She didn't have a choice.

The afternoon passed slowly. Even though she desperately wanted to move, to do something, Annie refrained from rearranging and pacing, for fear of having more tea pressed upon her. Trace was going to ride Brick, she was going to continue her life and, eventually, all would be well.

Because she was going to make it well. Somehow.

The girls were bubbling over with excitement when Annie picked them up. Emily had gotten a new puppy and they'd had the time of their lives playing with him. Discussing the possibility of getting a puppy themselves kept Annie busy on the drive home and by the time she started dinner, she was able to tell herself that this was what was important—being a good mom, making a nice home for her daughters. They had accepted the fact that Trace was gone much better than she had, and she'd quickly realized that she didn't need to project her heartbreak onto them.

Heartbreak.

She hated how often that word popped into her head. She was not heartbroken. She was hurting and only because she'd allowed herself to fall in love.

And because Trace Delaney was too scarred to change his chosen course in life.

Scarred or scared?

Did it matter? The result was the same.

And what about you?
a small voice asked.
Aren't you scarred and scared, too?

Maybe.

Yes.

She'd tried to force Wes to settle down and it hadn't worked. That had been a huge lesson. He'd stayed as long as he could, went through the motions, but when she was three months pregnant he had bolted.

Because as gorgeous and fun as he had been, he hadn't had a lot of integrity or loyalty. Life was all about him.

You do choose them well.

* * *

“T
ELL
ME
HOW
you feel facing the bull that took you out at the end of the last season.”

The television lady pushed the microphone closer to his face and Trace said, “I feel like I have a chance for vindication.”

“And the shoulder. How's it feeling after the surgery?”

“Better than before. I'd put it off for too long. Maybe I owe old Brick a debt of gratitude. If it hadn't been for him I might have put it off even longer.”

“Great attitude, Trace. Good luck with the ride.”

“Thank you.”

Honestly, he was going to need it. Brick was undefeated this season. No one had ridden him for longer than six seconds. Trace had every intention of getting his eight.

He just had to focus. Go through the ride mentally. Prepare for all eventualities.

Get Annie out of his head.

That was the challenge. She was with him constantly, and she was with him now. Distracting him in a way he didn't need to be distracted. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before, but he was certain that he'd move past this with time.

“Delaney! You're up!”

The shout snapped him back to the present. He started toward the chute, giving his shoulder one more roll for reassurance. Fine. He felt fine. Brick banged around in the chute, kicking with one hind foot. Trace leaned over the rail, adjusted his rope. Brick rolled his eye at him, as if to say, “You're mine.”

“Right back at you,” Trace muttered before he climbed on board.

Brick shifted irritably as Trace settled, twitching the skin on his back as if Trace were an annoying fly. He shifted his hips, wrapped the rope, pounded his glove. Deep breath, eyes closed. Weight in his feet. Center of the bull.

He gave a quick nod and the gate opened.

The next thing he knew he was at the end of his arm—Brick had blasted out of the chute that fast, and from there, Trace was playing catch up. Before he could get his weight back where he wanted it, in his feet, Brick spun away from his hand and then tossed him forward, swinging him around and smashing him into the ground.

Trace automatically started scrambling, trying to get out from under the bull, catching flashes of hooves and horns as the bullfighters ran toward him. For a brief moment he thought he was home free, just before he caught the hoof to the side of his head and went down...

* * *

T
HE
GOOD
NEWS
was that he'd be healed in time for the second half of the tour, which started in late August, just as he'd planned from the beginning. He'd also get another shot at Brick in December at Man vs. Bull. The bad news was that he was going to be out for several weeks. Again.

The worst news was that he didn't care.

What had happened to him?

Easy answer. Annie. The girls. A glimpse of a life he'd long ago told himself he couldn't have. He'd had security snatched away from him so many times that he'd been afraid to believe he could have it.

Tough. Tenacious. That was how the announcer had described him after the ride.

Bull.

He'd gotten scared of having what he wanted yanked away from him again and had hit the road rather than fight for it. He'd behaved like a freaking coward and that didn't sit well with him. The biggest problem was that until he worked things out with Annie—settled them one way or the other, faced his fear of loss...well, his career was going to suffer.

He was going to suffer.

And right now, as the meds kicked in, he was going to pass out. When he came out of it, he'd call Stoddard, make sure he had a bunk. Then when he was healed, he'd head to Gavin. Risk Grady's protective-brother wrath. He was done running. Well and truly done.

His eyes slowly closed as his limbs grew heavy.

He was...drifting.

* * *

A
NNIE
HAD
NEVER
spent more than a night away from her girls, but right now she was planning to spend at least two nights away from home. More if she had to. She and Trace were going to have words. And if he was weak because of the medication and pain, good. She was not above taking advantage.