Page 23 of Forsaken Hearts
That made her want to cry almost as much as the fear did.
Willow pushed away from the table and crossed the small distance between them. Before Summer could pull herself together, she touched her arm “We’ll be in touch.”
She nodded but the motion felt brittle. “Okay.”
“You’re not alone in this.”
The words struck a place Summer didn’t let anyone reach. Knowing the Black Heart Security team was on the case made her feel better, but that wasn’t saying much when she felt terrible.
Because all she could think about was the fact that even after she ended things, Vander’s first instinct had still been to protect her.
Chapter Five
Pope relaxed against the back of the worn leather chair in the common room. Truman, one of the vets and a good buddy of his, sat opposite him, his service dog lying at his feet.
The dog—a big shepherd named Ranger—had apparently decided his favorite part of the day was coffee time with his owner and Pope. For Ranger, it meant a full belly, the warm lodge and a nap stretched across his owner’s boots.
It had become a morning ritual to share a few quiet minutes over full mugs of coffee. Sometimes they talked about life and whatever the therapy program had them doing that week. Sometimes they just sat there listening to the lodge wake up around them.
Truman turned his head toward the big window overlooking the paddock. Willow was out there with one of the veterans in a therapy session. In the adjacent pasture, Pope’s horse galloped, mane flowing behind him.
“That horse is filling out nice,” Truman said.
Pope glanced beyond his friend to the window. Flint moved with an easy grace bred into him—he couldn’t take any credit for anything but his behavior.
He dipped his head and took a sip of coffee. “Willow says he’s one of the smartest horses she’s ever seen.” He studied the gelding, almost wishing he could keep him instead of taking him to the upcoming auction.
Truman huffed once, and Ranger looked up at his owner. Sensing his mood, he laid back down, muzzle on his paws.
Truman twitched his mug toward the window. “What do you think Flint’s gonna fetch at auction?”
“No clue. Lots of opinions on the ranch, though.”
“Willow thinks if I go through with taking him to auction, the price will skyrocket the minute he enters the arena.” He leaned down to scratch behind Ranger’s ear, and the dog heaved a happy sigh.
“Guess we’ll see when the time comes.”
Truman studied him. The man had been blown up and lost half his platoon, and he saw a lot while saying little. From what Pope saw, he didn’t shy away from difficult subjects—as long as it wasn’t about him.
“You’re attached to the horse.”
“Animals are easy to get attached to. You should know.”
As if Ranger knew they were talking about him, his eyebrows lifted like he waggled them.
“Ever think about not selling the horse?”
Before Pope could answer, the lodge doors opened. A petite redhead with curves for days hurried inside, a clipboard against her chest.
At the same time, he and Truman turned to her.
“Who’s that?” Truman asked.
“New girl in the security office. Name’s Ayla.”
She spotted them and hurried over. “There you are, Pope. Carson wants you over at the office.”
He set his mug aside and pushed to his feet. “Catch you later, Truman.”
