Unbreak My Heart (Rough Riders Legacy #1)

Neither of us said anything for several minutes.

“But this moon-gazing shit is killing my neck.” He moved to lean next to me and my pulse skipped a beat. “Much better. So, what are your plans for this summer?”

“I’ve thought about becoming a carny.”

“Yeah? What’s the appeal? Getting hooked on meth? Hooked on pot? Hooked on fried food? Or is it getting to rip off little kids every day? Maybe you’ll grow a mustache and get a bad tattoo.”

I laughed. “You’ve weighed the pros and cons way more than I have. I was just in it for the unlimited cotton candy.”

“What’s option two for your summer?”

He was more persistent than usual, so I hedged, in case he had a specific reason for asking my plans—like he wanted to spend the summer with me. “I don’t know. It depends.”

“On?”

“How much my mom and dad argue over me and where I should be. My mom’s boyfriend bought a place in Paris with an extra bedroom, so she wants me to stay at least half the summer with her.” I shot him a sideways warning glance. “I haven’t mentioned this to my dad yet.”

“Why not?”

“I just found out yesterday. He’ll ask me what I want to do, and like I said, I’m not sure.”

“But he gives you a vote in your options?”

“Yes. What about you? Now that you’ve graduated, what are your plans?”

“Well, that’s the reason I asked you to meet me.”

My stomach performed a hopeful summersault.

But as usual, he didn’t elaborate. He just kept looking skyward.

“Boone? I’m lousy at guessing games, remember? So just tell me.”

“I won’t be here this summer because I joined the army.”

I gave him a ten-second pause and hip-checked him. “You have a bizarre sense of humor sometimes.”

He faced me. “I’m not joking. I joined the army.”

A sick feeling took root as I realized he was serious. Then I…exploded. “Why would you just up and do that?”

“It wasn’t an impulsive decision. I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

“How long?”

“Almost three years. Since my youth forestry counselor suggested it when I was sixteen.”

And this was the first time he’d mentioned it? After all the time we’d spent together? “But we’re at war! The military sends the newest recruits over there.” Another horrible thought occurred. “You’ve got medical training, which means they’ll put you on the first cargo plane and drop you right in the middle of a combat zone.”

“Sierra. That’s what I want.”

“To get yourself killed?” I demanded.

“No, to help keep others from dying.”

“But you do that every day as an EMT.”

“It’s not the same. I can’t make a living as an EMT in rural Wyoming. I’m tired of being broke and there are a lot of things I’d like to do with my life that I can’t do if I’m stuck here.”

“Then go to college like normal people do.”

Boone scowled at me. “If I don’t have money for a car do you really think I’ve got money to go to college? Or that anyone will lend me the money?”

“Then we’ll ask my dad. He’ll float you a loan. Heck, he’d probably just give you the money since you saved my life.”

He pushed off the car. “I don’t want your money or your charity.”

“What? I’m only trying to help. You took that the wrong way.”

“Did I? What part of making it on my own is confusing to you? I have to do this. I want to do this.”

“So there’s no talking you out of it.”

Boone shook his head. “It’s a done deal.”

I wanted to scream at him, throw myself at his feet and beg him not to go, but that was the epitome of childish. Instead, I tossed off a breezy, “Fine. Whatever. Go be a hero. Get yourself killed. Later.” I sidestepped him and ducked around the front of the car, hoping to make it inside before my tears were obvious.

But he latched onto my upper arms and forced me to look at him. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do.”

His gaze roamed over my face. “Then why are you crying?” he demanded softly.

“Because I hate that you’re doing this stupid thing. And I hate you.” The last word came out as a sob.

“No, baby, you don’t.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Sierra. Come here.”

“No! Don’t touch me.”

“You don’t mean that either.” Boone crushed me to his chest.

I fought him for a few seconds, swinging punches that didn’t land, yelling and thrashing, but he just held on. I gave up fighting the pull of him and clung to him as I cried.

How many times had I imagined Boone holding me, stroking my hair and murmuring sweet things to me? Hundreds.

But never like this.

My voice was muffled against his chest when I finally spoke. “When do you go?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

I squirmed away from him. “You’re just telling me now? When did you sign up?”

Boone looked away.

“Tell me.”

“Three days after your accident.”