felt like she needed to pull her hand away, but she couldn’t. It would be a deliberate withdrawal and a step back—not at all what she should do at this moment.
Blake had had a brother? She swallowed. As much as she’d argued with her sisters, having them had always been a blessing. Because of them she’d never felt alone. Despite the strain of the responsibility she’d felt, and it hadn’t been easy, they’d been there, given her a purpose. Even if they’d acted out in their own ways, the reason for it had tied them together.
She couldn’t imagine what it would have been like to lose one of them.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “That must have been terrible for you.”
“Brad was my twin,” he said roughly. “We did everything together. The bond between twins is...”
“I’ve heard it’s different. That the connection is deeper.”
“I knew what he was thinking, sometimes what he was feeling. We played hockey together and sometimes we were so in tune with each other it was like music.” He pulled his hand away then, and gave a sad smile. “I think of him when I watch the Sedin brothers play now. We could have been like that.”
Hope didn’t know who the Sedin brothers were but she didn’t need to know to understand that Blake still felt the loss keenly.
“I can’t imagine not having my sisters,” Hope replied.
“You’re close?”
She looked down at her plate, annoyed with herself for bringing the conversation back to herself when she really wanted to learn more about him.
“Not particularly. But...I know they’re there.”
She suddenly felt guilty about not keeping in touch more. Not making more of an effort now that they were all grown up and leading their own lives. Faith and Grace weren’t her responsibility any longer, but instead of trying to redefine their relationship, they’d drifted apart. Anytime either of them had asked her for anything she’d turned her back. Maybe it was time that changed.
“I spent a lot of time wishing for Brad back,” Blake said. “It felt like a piece of me was missing. And I really struggled with why he was taken and I was left behind. At the same time I was a teenager, going through all the things that teens go through. We’d talked about going to the NHL together. All the dreams and plans were ours, and without him I had nothing.”
“So what did you do?” She looked up at him, feeling strangely bereft at the grief still shadowing his voice. Had Blake hit rock bottom like she had?
“Got by day to day. Lived in a shell. Shut people out.”
Hope’s throat swelled as she remembered the day she’d finally given up on holding her family together. She’d broken down, and Gram had been there to pick up the pieces, but things had been different from that point on. Ever since she’d kept people at arm’s length. She wasn’t blind. She knew that if she didn’t let anyone too close she didn’t have to worry about disappointments or goodbyes.
Blake had come out of his shell and built this place. She hadn’t, and she hid behind a camera.
“How did you come out of it?”
Blake had, and he’d done something extraordinary.
“My dad.” Blake seemed to relax, and resumed cutting into what was left of his pile of French toast. “He and Mom took the accident hard. It was awful around here. But he showed up in the barn one day and handed me a pair of skates. I hadn’t played hockey in three years—the accident ended my season and I never went back. He told me he’d lost one son and he’d be damned if he’d lose another and told me to put on the skates.”
“And you did?”
He grinned. The way his mouth pulled made him look rakish. “You haven’t met my dad. You don’t argue with him. We went to the pond over at Anna and John’s, laced up our skates and took shots at a net for three hours.”
He mopped up some syrup with a chunk of bread.
“After that I spent some time deciding what I wanted to do. I read an article about the therapeutic benefits of riding and it clicked. The one thing I’d done through it all was work with the horses. They were my saving grace. The more I looked into it, the more I knew. And when Dad retired I made it a reality.”
Hope pushed away her nearly empty plate. “You’re very good at what you do, Blake. And very good with kids. I’m kind of surprised you don’t have any of your own.”
His gaze touched hers. “Been wondering about me, have you?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she replied, feeling heat rise in her cheeks. “I’m not the only one to speculate. Half the women that walk through your stable doors wonder the same thing.”
His eyes looked confused for a moment, but then they cleared and he brushed off her observation. “Women don’t tend to be interested in a man like me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
His blue gaze pinned her again. “You know. They take one look at my face and...” He put his knife and fork on top of his plate. “It’s a lot to get past.”
Was he serious? Hope didn’t know what to say. Sure, she’d reacted to his scar, but she hardly noticed it now. It was hidden by his other fine qualities. His kindness, the way he smiled at the children, the light in his eyes and the strong, sure way he carried himself. Once she’d seen him in his element she’d glimpsed the real Blake. He was the kind of man who could be quite dangerous to a woman like her.
She could reassure him, but that would reveal way too much, so she came up with the only paltry platitude possible. “Someday the right woman will come along and sweep you off your feet.” She smiled. “You’ll see.”
She pushed back her chair and picked up her plate. But Blake caught her wrist as she went to move past him.
His fingers were strong and sure as they circled her wrist. “This place is the most important thing to me right now. And I haven’t said it yet, but thank you for what you’re doing. You were right. I couldn’t afford you by the hour.”
She stared into his honest face. “I’m sorry I ever said that. You touched a nerve that day with the perfect thing.”
He let go of her wrist. “I know I did.”
“Not the way you think,” she answered. “It’s not you I expect to be perfect, Blake, or the children, or anyone else except me. It’s me who keeps falling short of the mark.”
That little bombshell dropped, she escaped to the sink to rinse off her plate.
She heard the scrape of his chair as he pushed back from the table, knew he was behind her. She kept her back to him, the water running uselessly in the sink now that her plate was rinsed.
“There are things in life that happen and that we can’t see coming. That’s just reality,” he said, his voice quiet but full of conviction. “Expecting yourself to be perfect is setting yourself up to fail.”
“How
