Intent(17)

My poor attempt at a joke at least earns a real laugh from Ace. “I have a better idea. Why don’t you just come by the barn one day in the next couple of weeks? There are a couple of other horses I’d like you to meet, see if you get a similar reaction or if Frankie is just special.”

“Sure,” I agree a little too quickly. “That sounds like fun.”

“Waynie, you should take me, too,” River suggests.

“River, try your l-sounds again. La-la-la.” He exaggerates the sound, and they go back and forth until the “wa” is replaced with “la.” “Try her name again. La-la-laaaaaayne.”

“Layne,” River pronounces proudly. “Layne. Layne. Layne.”

“That’s good, baby. I knew you could do it.” Ace praises her and her eyes light up. He hangs the moon and the stars for her.

“Laynie,” she says correctly. A sharp pain slices through my chest and my breath hitches in my lungs, but I hide it behind my polite smile. “I like saying Laynie better.”

“Okay, but only as long as Layne doesn’t mind.” Ace replies and looks at me. “It’s up to you. A lot of people don’t like nicknames, and it’s okay if you don’t.”

“I like Laynie. It kind of sounds like ‘Mommy.’ Doesn’t it?” River reasons.

I don’t think about what either of those names means to me. I don’t think about how my heart just shattered inside my chest, never to be made whole again.

“River can call me Laynie if she wants to—but she’s the only one who can.” I wink at River, firmly establishing the agreement that only the two of us are privy to.

“That’s right. She’s my Laynie,” River confirms with a huge smile. It’s impossible not to respond with my own smile.

We finish our meal with easy chitchat. River recounts the events of her day, including every dramatic detail of when the truck almost ran over her. While River regales us with her version of it, I feel Ace’s eyes on me like a heavy veil. Our eyes meet, and without verbal expression, I know what he’s thinking and feeling. Perhaps because my own emotions are still so raw is why I feel his so strongly.

“Layne.” His voice is thick with sentiment.

Instinctively, I reach over and squeeze his hand in an act of reassurance and comfort. “I know, Ace. You don’t have to say anything. I’m just glad I was there at that exact moment.”

He holds my eyes captive as his fingers wrap around my hand in return. The warmth from his skin is instantly transferred to mine and quickly spreads throughout my body. When it reaches my cold, broken heart, I have a moment of sheer panic and terror. I don’t want it to thaw for any man, for any reason. But there’s something about this man that makes my emotions swing from one end of the spectrum to the other.

This man could be dangerous to my heart, mind, and body—in every way imaginable.

“Let me help you clean up the dishes,” I stammer nervously.

Using that as my excuse, I pull my hand from his grip to start clearing off the table. For a moment, I can still feel his touch. The heat from his body. The texture of his calloused fingers. His inherent strength that’s undeniable and unmistakable. Then it all begins to fade away, and I’m reminded there’s more than just the physical connection two people share.

I don’t think about how lonely I am, how I’m dying a little more inside, and how much I crave an emotional connection. I don’t think about how that will never be a reality for me.

As I rinse our dinner dishes off in the sink and place them in the dishwasher, I bite my tongue to keep from asking the questions I really want to know.

Where is River’s mother?

Was Ace married to her?

Did he walk in and catch her with his best friend, too?

“Laynie,” River calls from directly behind me.

When I turn, the first thing I notice is her sweet smile. The second thing I notice is the plastic bowl she’s holding out to me. And lastly, I notice that bowl has a huge scoop of homemade ice cream in it. The sliding glass door is still open, and I’m embarrassed to admit I was so lost in my thoughts I didn’t even hear them go outside.

“Here’s your ice cream. Daddy made it. It’s peach.” Her eyes grow big on her last word, telling me it’s a big deal to have peach ice cream. “This is yours.”

She hands me the bowl with a heaping mound of peach ice cream and a plastic spoon buried inside it. “If I eat over here too often, I’ll be as big as a house.”

River giggles sweetly and takes my free hand in hers. “Come outside with me.”

When we step onto the back porch, Ace is adjusting the container of homemade ice cream in the rock salt and ice. “You really didn’t have to do the dishes, Layne. Squirt and I have a system for getting them done.”

“It’s the least I could do after you did all the cooking. And did you really just call her Squirt?” I can’t help but razz him.

“What? I always call her Squirt.” He smiles, an innocent smile that a cherished little boy would flash for his mom when he just got caught pilfering an extra cookie from the cookie jar.

That smile will be my undoing.





Chapter Six





ACE