The Cowboy's Valentine Bride. Patricia Johns
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he was thinking. She shouldn’t have mentioned Brian. She grimaced.
“Nothing had happened then between Brian and Nina—that I knew of, at least,” Kaitlyn said. “We were all friends with Brian, you know that.”
“Yeah. Solid guy.” Brody’s tone dripped sarcasm, and Kaitlyn couldn’t blame him.
They remained silent for a couple of minutes, and Kaitlyn remembered how different everything had been a year ago. They’d been proud of Brody, and scared for him. They’d been happy about Nina and Brody’s engagement. Nina had spent hours staring at the ring on her finger, and Kaitlyn had been determined to sort through her own feelings of jealousy privately. She was happy for her sister—of course, she was—and she’d never really believed that Brody would look twice at her with Nina in the same hemisphere anyway. But it still stung, knowing she was destined to be half in love with her brother-in-law for the foreseeable future.
“Are you all still doing the trail ride this year?” Brody asked.
“I imagine so,” Kaitlyn replied. “It’s tradition, isn’t it?”
“Good,” he said. “I’m going to ride, too.”
Kaitlyn frowned, silently considering the options. Trail rides were narrow and bumpy, and she couldn’t responsibly give him enough pain meds to dull that kind of agony. He seemed to read her thoughts.
“It isn’t hard riding by any stretch. You know that, Kate. I’ve been riding since before I could walk, and I’m not sitting back at the house with the cooks.”
“You’ve earned a rest,” she said. “You’re the resident hero, after all.”
“Don’t use that word with me.” His voice turned gruff and stony. “I’m riding. Period.”
There was no invitation for discussion. He’d been through a nightmare in Afghanistan, and she could only guess at the memories he carried with him. He wanted to heal and recover, and that solidity of mind was important. They’d just have to work toward his goal. Even if he wasn’t strong enough to ride in time, he’d at least have something to work toward. And once it got closer to the trail ride, he’d be able to see the futility of putting his body through that kind of punishment. There was no use in breaking his spirit now.
“You want to ride?” she said with a smile. “All right. That’s our goal. Let’s see what we can do.”
“Good.” Brody smiled faintly. “And I’m serious, Kate. Don’t go easy on me.”
“I had no intention of it,” she retorted. “I’ll be a regular drill sergeant. You’ll think longingly of your boot camp days.”
Brody chuckled, then sighed. “Why am I so tired all of a sudden?”
“It’s the pills. Sleep is good for you. Get some rest.”
Brody nodded and leaned his head against the back of the chair. She quelled the urge to brush a hand against his forehead. She didn’t want to go hard on Brody—she wanted to give him the safe, warm place to heal that he so desperately needed, but he didn’t want those things from her. That had been Nina’s domain.
Kaitlyn would have to get over these feelings for him, because a future with Brody was an absolute impossibility. Before it was because he was engaged to her sister, and now, even with Nina safely out of the picture, anything developing between them was equally impossible.
Kaitlyn had lived in her sister’s shadow her entire life, and she refused to stay there in the heart of the man she loved.
On the fireplace mantle, a tattered slip of red paper caught her eye. She paused, stepped closer to look and a lump rose in her throat as she recognized it—a kid’s vintage Valentine’s card that she’d slipped into his luggage before he left for boot camp. They used to joke about the little sayings on those cards—corny lines that could end up being eerily prophetic. So she’d slipped one in his bag that said, “You’re brave, Valentine.” It went along with a joke they’d shared that it took a big man to take on a woman as high maintenance as Nina was. She thought he’d get a laugh out of it...but it looked like he’d done one more than that, and had kept it.
Kaitlyn shut her eyes against the wave of emotion. How she’d longed to say more than “You’re brave.” She’d wanted to say, “You hold my heart.” She’d wanted to say, “Do whatever you have to in order to get back here alive.”
For now, she’d do her duty and get Brody back in the saddle, or as close to it as she could. And maybe in the process, she’d be able to work through a few of these feelings and put them to rest for good. She had some healing to do, too.
Brody woke with a start, his heart thudding hollowly in his ears. The dream was still fresh in his mind—fire, explosions, fear mingling with his training. In his dream, he pulled himself across the dusty ground, a trail of fresh blood behind him, and he grabbed at Jeff’s hand, only to realize his hand was all that was left of him. He always woke at the same place, with the hand clutched in his, rubbery and limp.
Brody swallowed the bile that rose in his throat, and he sucked in a wavering lungful of air. This had been his first night back home, and he’d slept in the visitor’s bedroom on the main floor. There had been no way he was hopping up those stairs last night, and so they’d settled him down here. It was just as well—he wasn’t sure how he’d feel about sleeping in his old bedroom anyway. His sister’s room was directly above him, and glancing at the clock, he realized that she’d already be out doing chores. It was past four in the morning.
I should be out there, too.
He rubbed his hands over his face and grimaced as he sat up. His leg throbbed. If things were different, he’d already be out in the frigid January air. He’d be driving out to the herds with a pickup bed full of hay, and he’d bring a shovel to break the ice that would cover the cattle’s water troughs. He’d always wanted to join the army, but that hadn’t emptied the cowboy out of him. There was something about the crisp air at dawn and the lowing of cattle that soothed his soul like nothing else, and right now, he could use a little soothing, but he hardly felt like he deserved it.
Jeff had had a wife and three small kids waiting for him, and he’d returned home in a box. Jeff’s wife would have been given a flag in her husband’s honor, and those little kids would never see their dad again. Jeff always had pictures in his pocket, and he’d show them to anyone who would look. Three blond, blue-eyed kids, the youngest of which looked like she could barely walk. So when Brody got back to American soil to find out his fiancée hadn’t waited for him, it hardly seemed fair that he should be the one to come back alive.
He just hadn’t counted on the dreams. Other guys had mentioned them—the haunting nightmares that came back every time they shut their eyes, but somehow he’d thought he’d be immune. He was tough—but not that tough, apparently.
He grabbed the bottle of pills on his nightstand and shook two into his palm. They’d help with the pain. He’d have to remember what time he took them so he could tell Kaitlyn when she arrived.
Kaitlyn as his nurse was hard to wrap his head around. She’d been attending nursing school when he left, but he’d never really imagined her in the role. Her aunt, Bernice Harpe, was the local nurse—a solid woman of sixty. Kaitlyn had always been Nina’s younger sister to him, sitting with textbooks and paper spread in front of her at the kitchen table. When he thought of Kaitlyn, he saw her with a backpack and her hair pulled into a ponytail. And a year later, she was his nurse—cleaning his wounds, checking his stitches, noting his medication. And she was bossy, too.
Swallowing the pills, he dropped back onto his pillow. Everything had changed since his return. The shock of Nina’s marriage was starting to wear off, and while he’d been sure that underneath that shock was some heartbreak and pain, right now he felt relief. He’d been absolutely positive that Nina was