It had been over three weeks since he and Jenna had lain in the back of his truck buzzed, staring at the stars, and the image of her with tears in her eyes haunted him. I couldn’t.
At first he’d been livid, even though he understood she was telling her version of the truth. Stomping away from the truck was the best he could do to avoid saying anything else he would’ve regretted. The next morning had brought a bit more perspective, but not much.
So the days passed. And on every one, he thought of Jenna. He didn’t have a clue what it felt like to find out your body wasn’t what you thought it was, and he wanted to have compassion. But each time he felt the urge to phone or send a text message, he couldn’t seem to push past the floor that had slammed between his head and his heart.
She’d broken off their damn near perfect relationship because of a test result, and he’d spent the last thirteen years trying to make sense of it. It hadn’t been fair to him. Plus, there was the added guilt of knowing she’d tried to call. Yes, she’d been stupid, but so had he. Country didn’t know if he was ready to admit that yet.
Country sat on the edge of the tub until he was physically capable of taking a leak, then stripped off his clothes, tossed them in the hamper, and turned on the shower. Once the water was scalding, he got in and let the water wash over his chilled skin.
After the last guest appearance on Hockey Evening in Canada, John had offered him four thousand dollars to do three more appearances. One between Christmas and New Year’s and two in January. He’d survived Christmas day with his parents, siblings, and nieces and nephews, and now he had two days until he walked into that studio and saw her again. That thought sent blood rushing in his ears.
Country moved through his morning chores without even noticing the cotton candy hues of the sunrise or the glittering frost on the bare tree branches. Nothing looked beautiful this morning. Over the past couple of weeks, he'd grown to know one truth: he still loved Jenna McAllister.
She'd grown tough around the edges, but he'd always loved her fire. He loved the way she set her jaw in the face of a competitor, the way she wouldn't let anyone—even him—get away with something she disagreed with. Yes, life had beaten her into making compromises, but she'd still risen to the top. He only wondered if she'd started climbing the wrong mountain after Windsor.
She'd found out she couldn't have kids, and instead of working within those parameters, she'd given up on the life that included him. She hadn't allowed him to be a part of that decision.
Country tried to ignore the questions niggling at him underneath those facts. What did that say about their relationship? What had he done to make her believe she couldn't talk to him?
Jenna had done the same thing with sportscasting, hadn’t she? Jenna had been overlooked once, maybe a handful of times, and that had been equivalent to a broadcasting blood test. She'd heard you'll never be a sportscaster, so she'd scrapped that dream right along with the one where they ended up on a wraparound porch together. Jenna was as bullheaded as she was capable, and that terrified him.
Country walked into the barn to find Polk already gathering supplies to clean Lady Grey's hooves. "Since when do you do the grunt work?"
Polk pulled a file from the workbench. "I could ask you the same thing. Weren't you out here with Jenna doling out feed and cleaning stalls?"
"It keeps me centred." The truth was, he'd never wanted to have a desk job. He'd never planned to be back here taking on the responsibility of the ranch, but he'd been happy to take it on when hockey didn’t work out. Until everything started to tank and he was left sitting in front of spreadsheets and pages of data trying to assess which direction they should go in this ag-unfriendly economy.
Mucking stalls was simple. At least at the end of the day he had something to show for his work.
“You talk to Cody at all after Christmas dinner?” Polk asked. Country shook his head. He hadn't talked much to anyone after Christmas dinner. Sitting alone in his living room wasn't the best medicine, but he couldn't bring himself to want to do anything else.
At least he'd had the game last night to distract him. Polk had come over like he always did, and filmed more for their channel. Since he had nothing better to do, he'd actually checked the views and comments. Even responded to a few.
Polk dropped his file on the floor and bent down to pick it up. “I think they're going to take a trip to Florida in the new year.”
“Oh yeah? Theme parks?”
Polk nodded. “I think so. I can't remember if they said the kids wanted to do Disney or Universal.”
“Their kids can barely spell their own names. Now they're in charge of family vacations?”
Polk laughed. “Peer pressure in kindergarten is real.”
Country ran the brush over Lady Grey's flank. He’d always thought he’d have kids before his brothers since he was the oldest. And most attractive. Life hadn’t gone even close to the way he’d planned it all out in his head.
“What's going on with you and Jenna?” Polk asked, and Country bristled.
“Nothing.” That was the truth. They hadn’t spoken since he’d left the truck. He’d only needed some time to think and cool down, but when he’d walked back to the patio, Jenna and the other girls had gone.
“Are you going to see her when you go to HEC on Saturday?”
“Probably.” He hoped his one-word answers were giving off an air of aloofness, but he doubted Polk was fooled. He hadn't ever explained to his family what had happened between them, but Polk knew how serious he’d been. He’d told him about the ring.
“Why did you have her come to the ranch?”
Country drew a deep breath. “She needed help with the broadcast, and I needed help figuring out the social media and branding for the silos.”
Polk scooted his bucket back. “You were asking Jenna for social media advice?”
