Unbroken Hearts Read online

  “Maybe I’m not feeling very… whatever it was you said. It hasn’t exactly been the most romantic day, has it?”

  “I didn’t know that’s what you expected.” He peered into JT’s eyes, trust and honest-to-goodness interest darkening the blue. “So how can I fix it, Darlin’?”

  A monumental band of guilt threaded tiny stitches around JT’s heart at the seriousness of Brett’s reply. He tried not to stammer. “It’s fine… I’m fine. We’re… here now. Together.” Fail.

  Brett bent in close, the brim of his cowboy hat brushing against JT’s forehead. JT slid back a little when Brett didn’t ease off on his pursuit. “Mmm-hmm. How about I promise to let you have your way with me after we blow this joint?”

  JT cocked his head so he could see Brett’s amused gaze beneath the ten-gallon hat. “Like you could stop me anyway.”

  With a rolling chuckle and the sexy crinkling of his eyes, Brett moved his knee so it rested against JT’s. “You’re starting to sound all bossy like my mama.”

  “I HAPPEN to like your mama.”

  “I do too, but not when she’s talking about our sexual activities—no, I mean when you sound like…. Jesus.” JT loved watching Brett squirm when his embarrassment took over his words. “Oh goddamn it, never mind.”

  “Did I hear you using my name in vain?” a strong but feminine Texas accent interrupted.

  Brett sucked on his bottom lip when he pulled away, his face more little boy caught by his mama than grown man. JT mirrored the move as they both turned to face Millie.

  “No, Mama. We know better than that.”

  “You best mind your manners. I don’t care if we’re in the middle of a smelly old bar, and you’re older than Judas, I can still take you both down a strip, boys.”

  A flush of heat crept into JT’s cheeks, but Brett simply winked at Millie.

  “Now here. Take this before I forget to give it to you later,” she said with a smile.

  Brett leaned to the side, motioning for JT to grab the white envelope Millie was waggling in front of them. He took it carefully between shaky fingers, glancing from Brett to Millie and back again… slowly. Ray huffed from across the table.

  “It ain’t gonna bite ya, kid. Why’s everything gotta be so damn dramatic in this family?” Millie squeaked and slapped at his shoulder.

  JT’s heart ached a little with the word family, but he swallowed the lump in his throat, sliding his finger under the flap of the envelope. He was fully aware that all eyes were on him, and despite the awkwardness of the situation, he plucked the card out without hesitation.

  He’d suspected it was a Valentine’s Day card. Yet it wasn’t extravagant or overstimulating—simply five bold red words on white paper with a heart in one corner. But regardless of the simplicity, emotion gathered with a strangling thud in JT’s throat, nearly causing him to choke on his own tongue.

  It wasn’t the card itself or the verse on the inside that sent the sting of tears to his eyes—it was the carefully added S to the word son on the front. Sons.

  Happy Valentine’s Day to my SONS.

  Without having uttered a single word, Brett slid an arm around JT’s shoulders. His fingers circled the back of JT’s neck, thumbing across the tiny hairs at his nape. Prickles raced down JT’s spine, and he gratefully relaxed into the touch. Brett gave him a gentle shake before kissing the side of his head.

  “S’okay, sweetheart.”

  JT didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to react or whether he even should. It was as if he’d stumbled into a meeting where everyone spoke a different language than him, or like he’d been given some sort of award he didn’t think he deserved. He was light-headed, his core twisting, heart aching but in a very good way. Somehow nothing had ever made him feel happier or more complete than how those six handwritten words affected him.

  Forever passed in the blink of an eye while he stared dumbfounded down at the prettiest piece of paper he’d ever held in his hands. He felt eyes burning into his skull, but he didn’t think he could move until….

  “Well, come on now. You look a little green around the gills. Looks like you really need a hug.” Millie’s voice managed to wade through the mess of quicksand that filled JT’s head, and then he was in her arms, warm and safe—loved. He smothered a sob, but it rang loud and unabashed in his own ears.

  “Don’t cry, sugar. It’s just a silly old card from a silly old woman.”

  That made JT laugh, but it manifested in a gurgled whimper. “I love you, Millie. Thank you.”

  “You’re loved, son. Don’t ever forget that.” She kissed his cheek, then drew back. “I think we could all use a drink.” She set her sights on her other son this time. “Brett, shouldn’t you be getting us some drinks right about now?”

  Brett’s gaze tripped over his mama’s and quickly found JT’s. “You all right, Darlin’?”

  JT was helpless to do much more than nod, but when Brett pulled him into his arms for a tight squeeze, he finally found his voice. “I could use a drink.”

  The entire table laughed heartily as JT wiped a stray tear with the cuff of Brett’s shirt. After ruffling the top of his head, Brett pushed away from the table and tipped his hat. “Whiskey sour, Mama?”

  “You know it.”

  “Well all right, then. I shall return.” He winked at Millie, then disappeared into the crowd.

  JT hadn’t noticed the number of people gathered in Bubba’s, most likely because he’d only had eyes for Brett. It was seemingly packed to the rafters, the crowd noisy and the beer flowing. JT noticed a few heads turn in his cowboy’s direction when Brett made his way to the bar. He recognized the looks on their faces, and they definitely weren’t reserved for redneck Texans.

  Plain and simple, it was a familiar kind of curiosity and maybe judgment hidden behind the fakeness of indifference. But despite that, JT couldn’t help sitting up a little straighter, a little prideful, while he watched Brett bypass all the looky-loos, his smile fixed bright as he excused himself through the crowd. JT concentrated on Brett’s smoking-hot ass as it sauntered away. He was wearing JT’s favorite jeans.

  The strength of his gait, and his butt, had been one of the first things JT had noticed when he met Brett all those months ago. And he’d always admired Brett’s walk—powerful, self-assured, the walk of a man who knew what he wanted and how he was going to get it. It was sexy as hell. And JT wasn’t the least bit biased.

  When Brett was finally gobbled up by the crowd, JT turned back to Millie, touching a finger to the back of her hand. “You look especially beautiful tonight. Did you get your hair done?”

  Millie waggled her fingers at him. “Of course. It’s Valentine’s Day, ain’t it? I had to look my best for my three favorite men.”

  “She always looks nice.”

  Never in a million years would JT have expected Ray to turn into a blushing romantic, but there it was right in front of him. He had a mischievous urge to taunt him about it, but instead, he boxed it away in his head to be used at a later, more effective time.

  “Thank you, Ray,” Millie said with a soft stroke to his arm. “It’s been a while since I’ve had anyone pay attention to me on Valentine’s Day, except Brett, of course, and he doesn’t really count.”

  “I can relate.” JT hadn’t meant to sound quite so pathetic.

  “I suspected as much,” Millie said with a gentle smile. “You keep that card in your sock drawer, sweetheart, and if you ever question whether you’re loved, you pull it out and hold it close to your heart.”

  “Here are your drinks, folks.”

  The sweet swelling of JT’s heart was interrupted—thankfully—when Bubba set a tray down on the table and started distributing drinks with a broad smile.

  “Hey, Bubba.” JT craned his neck to look around the large man, but what he was looking for was nowhere in sight. “Um… where’d Brett go?”

  Bubba’s answer was swift and concise, almost robotic. “Said he had to step out to make
a phone call. I reckon he’ll be along shortly.”

  One hundred conflicting thoughts bombarded JT’s mind. “A phone call?” he questioned, but Bubba was already gone.

  Anger flashed inside JT’s previously love-soft brain, while the heaviness of more disappointment flamed in his belly. Childlike ire quickly shut out everything else. Well, if that didn’t just beat all. Enough was enough. JT was done with Valentine’s Day. He had a headache from the irritating internal dialogue that had tortured him all day and now… this.

  Spoiled brat or not, all he’d wanted was a little attention from his boyfriend. Then just when JT had become content and accepting of the whole family-shared Valentine’s dinner idea, Brett buggered the fuck off, yet again.

  Millie’s card was the most beautiful thing JT had ever received, but it didn’t come close to softening the blow of Brett’s conflicting behavior. Was it really that wrong to want a quiet dinner without the word Bubba or “do you want fries with that?” Or a session of nothing but making out above the waist? Was hoping for a crimson card with a message so sweet it gave JT a cavity too much to ask for? Or even just a moment of peace with his cowboy?

  Instead, JT had received a lovely, meaningful card from his freaking boyfriend’s mother. Yes, he loved Millie, but becoming the third wheel to a couple of senior citizens making googly eyes at each other wasn’t high on his list of good times—at least not tonight. It reeked of unfairness, and JT could have cared less if his behavior and spoiled thoughts were unbecoming for a young gay man living with an ancient rancher.

  All the disillusionment from earlier came rushing back with a force that had JT gripping the icy beer mug like a lifeline. Suddenly, the only place he wanted to be was home—alone and feeling sorry for himself with no one to complain to but Whiz, who seemed the perfect choice for the job.

  Holding out for that one special Valentine’s Day had simply been the foolish wishing of a child bucking his parents’ influence. And it had got him nowhere, just like his mother promised. Brett would assuredly make it up to him other years, but even that wasn’t enough to satisfy the sorrow in JT’s heart. Tonight was a write-off, and JT just wanted it over with as quickly as possible.

  He’d take Brett’s truck—leave him to damn well hitch a ride with Ray, exactly like he’d done to JT. He and Ray could duke it out if either of them had an issue too. Of course, there was a vital flaw in JT’s plan. Brett had already left him stranded with the lovebirds and fucked off to God knew where.

  “Hey, son. You all right? You’ve got a little something on your mouth.”

  JT hadn’t realized it, but he’d been gnawing a hole in his lip, biting down so hard the metallic tingle of blood popped on his tongue. He took a long draw of his beer while Millie and Ray watched him with identical narrowed eyes. They were starting to look alike. Normally that would be cute as hell.

  But dammit, maybe JT wanted to look like Brett and have Brett look like him too. He could barely make heads or tails of whatever the hell his mind was trying so hard to formulate and calculate amidst all the relentless, useless self-dialogue. Basically, he was jealous of a sarcastic weathered rancher and bossier-than-hell mama bear—both of whom he adored.

  “You’re turning an unflattering shade of pink, JT. Do you need some water?” Millie wrinkled her nose in concern, but JT wasn’t having any of that either. He loved her, but just no.

  He noticed the increased restless mumblings and shuffling of the people around him, but it scarcely registered on the edge of his mind. Not to mention it was of far less importance than the raging storm he intended on barreling through as fast as Brett’s truck would take him.

  “No, ma’am, but thank you.” He forced a politeness that he certainly didn’t feel because Millie and Ray hadn’t done anything wrong. No, that was all on Brett’s head. “You know what though? I’m not feeling so hot. Do you think you could give Brett a ride back to the ranch? I’m going to head home and lie down for a while. I don’t want to risk making anyone else sick.” He fingered Brett’s keys thrown haphazardly in the center of the table. At least he knew the truck was still there. “You don’t mind, do you, Ray?”

  “I do actually.” Ray’s answer was abrupt and without pause or apology.

  JT was stunned into momentary silence. “Ex…. Excuse me?”

  Millie reached for his hand, but JT made a point of winding his fingers around his glass again.

  “You should stay. Maybe you just need something to eat. Ray will go grab a menu. You want a Bubba special or burger and fries with those hot peppers you like?”

  The throng of people around him was getting louder, and the temptation to bolt was heavy inside JT. He wanted to leave Brett and the rest of them in the dust—no questions asked, no answers given, just do as he goddamned wanted to and make his apologies later. A sturdy sigh escaped between his clenched teeth. “I just want to go back to the ranch. I can find my own way if I have—”

  “Evening, y’all.”

  JT’s attention backflipped from his obsessive fidgeting and mindless fretting, and he met Ray’s determined stare. The old foreman flicked his head in the direction behind JT’s back. JT twisted toward the startling familiar voice booming through over the noise of the crowd. He whispered to himself, “What the fuck is he doing now?”

  His question was answered a soon as he caught sight of Brett. All the air in JT’s lungs oozed out, and his heart jumped and smashed against his rib cage.

  Brett sat atop a stool on the tiny stage in the corner of the bar, the squeal of the microphone deafening as he struggled to adjust it. “Whoops, sorry about that.”

  The spotlight framed him perfectly, lit him up like the North Star, his hair shining as he swept it over his shoulders and he grinned out into the quieted herd. He’d exchanged his comfy plaid shirt for a crisp white button-up, and the old black cowboy hat had disappeared as well. Brett’s hair hung long and loose, tucked distractedly behind his ears where JT knew it wouldn’t stay.

  Brett shifted his favorite acoustic in his lap as he reached down for the glass of water at his feet. JT couldn’t quite close his gaping mouth, especially when Brett’s voice carried nervous and gravelly throughout the joint.

  “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Brett Taylor, or I guess I used to be Brett Blakk—” He stopped when the crowd sent up a rousing cheer. “Now, now, I ain’t been that fella for a long time. Oh, and before I forget, happy Valentine’s Day to y’all.”

  He paused again as the audience chuckled and returned the sentiment to him and each other. Someone yelled, “Valentine’s Day is for pussies,” and Brett squinted a scowl to the back of the room.

  “C’mon, now. None of that. If you don’t believe in love, then why the hell are you here today, man?” Brett sniffed and cocked his head. “Anyhow, let’s not let that ruin the evening, right? I… um, I have to confess I’m not so good with the mushy stuff, but I’d be the worst boyfriend in the world if I didn’t mention my sweetheart.” He took the time to jut his chin in JT’s direction, making eye contact over the throng of rubberneckers. “Yeah, happy first Valentine’s Day, JT.”

  A warm blush tickled JT right down to his toes as Brett held up his water glass and pointed in his direction. He grinned wide, teeth brilliantly white and shining in the light, but the real smile was in the twinkle of his eyes as he tipped his head and waggled his eyebrows. Once he’d cozied back up to the mic, JT pushed aside the instinct to lower his head, to take the admiration with a grain of dignity. He still couldn’t look away. Nor did he want to.

  “There’s something else I need to get off my chest, so I guess I’ll come right out and say it. Yeah, that strapping young man over there is my Darlin’, and if anyone has a problem with that, then I guess you just aren’t welcome here tonight. Now, I’m not trying to rile anybody up, but this is a special day, and this isn’t the place for any type of discontent. Am I right, Bubba?”

  All heads turned to the solid grizzly bear of a man behind the bar.
Bubba’s grin was a mile wide, turning his mess of beard into a demonic image as he slapped a hand on the wooden surface. “Damn straight. The door’s plenty big enough to get your bigoted, homophobic asses out if you need to go.”

  Brett flashed a lopsided grin, nervously shoving the hair from his face as he continued. JT caught himself holding his breath and let it out slowly. A heavy silence stifled the room as people viewed their neighbors with curiosity and suspicion. He was happily surprised to not see a rush of bodies heading for the door—not even one.

  “All righty, then. So this here is a one-time-only performance because, like I said, I’m not Brett Blakk anymore, and I’m damn happy living my life without him. I’m gonna play a few songs that I used to perform back in the day, and one or two that my mama insisted on.” The crowd laughed as one united voice. Brett’s mouth turned up in a devilish grin, and JT felt an intense urge to jump on the stage and drag him into a private corner. “Come on now, you good old boys know what I’m talking about, right? Y’all listen to your mama or you’ll never hear the end of it.”

  Millie’s smile matched Brett’s as she tipped her head in agreement and whispered, “That boy knows his place.”

  Brett waggled his fingers at her and said, “I love ya, Mama,” before turning away again.

  After one more sip, he placed his glass on the floor, noticeably drawing in a big breath. JT didn’t need x-ray glasses to detect the anxious nerves bubbling beneath Brett’s skin: in how he was clenching his square jaw just so, in the little tremor in his leg as he bounced his heel on the floor, in the sheen of sweat that dotted his hairline and the incessant bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he tried to swallow down his nervous energy. It just made everything that much more real, and JT’s own heightened anticipation and excitement made him squirm as if he were sitting alongside Brett on the stage. He wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

  Brett strummed a couple strings, pulling a face when the tone wasn’t right. JT didn’t know much when it came to music, but even he could tell the guitar was out of tune.