Breaking Fences (The Breaking Series) Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Dictionary

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seveteen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty- Eigth

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Eight Weeks Later

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Other Books

  Breaking Fences

  by

  Juliana Haygert

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014 by Juliana Haygert.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Manufactured in the United States of America.

  First Edition June 2014

  www.JulianaHaygert.com

  Edited by H. Danielle Crabtree

  Cover design by Sarah Hansen/Okay Creations

  The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following brands mentioned in this work of fiction: Jeep, Grand Cherokee, Lucchese, Victoria’s Secret, Tommy Hilfiger, Miss America, Coke, Panera Bread, Starbucks, Mercedes, McDonald’s, Johnnie Walker, Jell-O, iPad, Disney, Pixar, Nickelback.

  To all readers who asked for more stories in

  the Breaking the Reins’ world.

  Dictionary: Portuguese - English

  Note that some words and expression don’t have a perfect literal translation. The translation you see here is the one that fits the context of this novel.

  If you prefer, you can click here to download or print this dictionary.

  Ainda bem – thank goodness

  Beijinho – a sweet made with condensed sweetened milk

  Bem – well

  Boa sorte – good luck

  Bom dia – good morning

  Bombacha – gaucho pants

  Branquinho – same as Beijinho

  Brigadeiro – a sweet made with condensed sweetened milk and cocoa powder

  Café colonial – continental breakfast

  Carreteiro – dish made with rice and steak

  Chato – a call name for someone who annoys you

  Churrasco – Brazilian barbecue

  Credo – jeez/damn

  Droga – crap

  Eita – whoa

  Eu te amo – I love you

  Feijoada – dish made with black beans

  Filha da puta (daughter of a bitch), mimada (spoiled), china (it’s like prenda, but in a bad way), rapariga sem vergonha (girl without shame), invejosa (jealous) – ways of insulting other women/girls

  Graças a Deus – thank God, thank goodness

  Grande coisa – whatever

  Gaúcho(a) – people born in the South of Brazil

  Guria – girl

  Idiota – idiot

  Irmã – sister

  Irmãzinha – little sister

  Mãe – mother

  Merda – shit

  Meu Deus – my God

  Negrinho – same as Brigadeiro

  O que – what

  Obrigada/o – thanks

  Oi – hi

  Ótimo – great

  Pai – father

  Por favor – please

  Porcaria – shit, or bad stuff

  Prenda – just like a gaucha

  Preta – black

  Puta que pariu – goddamn it, holy shit, fuck

  Que droga – this sucks/damn/crap/jeez

  Que porcaria é essa – what the hell is this

  Querida – dear

  Sem rodeios – without rodeos, means without dillydallying

  Senhorita – miss

  Sete de Setembro – Brazil’s Independence Day

  Sim – yes

  Tá tudo bem – it’s okay

  Tchau – bye

  Tche – common expression used by gaúchos. It can mean many things. A salutation, an exasperated exclamation, or even calling someone

  Te comporta – behave

  Um minuto – One minute

  Chapter One

  Leaving some things—or people, or horses—behind was harder than I thought it would be.

  “Tá tudo bem,” I said, patting Preta’s long neck. My beautiful gray mare tilted her head to me and nudged my shoulder with her wet nose. Smiling, I leaned over the stall door and hugged her. “Hannah will take care of you.” In the next stall, Argus nickered. I turned to him. “Sim, you better take good of her too.”

  “I know he will,” Hannah said, entering her ranch’s stable. She had a sweet smile on her lips, but her dark green eyes looked at me with concern. That was how everyone looked at me lately, and I was getting sick of it. Hannah stopped by my side and watched both horses. “He’s in love.”

  I scratched Preta’s wither. “So is she.”

  That was the main reason I was leaving my mare here. Because Argus and Preta behaved like an old married couple. Not because my father and I had had the fight of the century two nights ago, and I had left promising never to come back. Not at all.

  Hannah leaned on the back wall. “Excited?”

  I faced her and rested my butt on the stall’s door, allowing Preta to keep nuzzling my back. I needed my mare’s comforting and supporting touch right now.

  My entire life, I did whatever was good for my brothers’ and cousin’s polo career. Dropping out of vet school and following them from Brazil to the U.S. a little over a year ago had been the culminating point. We had always traveled all over the world for tournaments and contracts, but we had never talked about moving. Much less to another country.

  At first, it was like a new, fun adventure. So much to see, so much to explore. However, after a couple of months, I grew tired of it. All I did was follow them to the club for training, then back home. Even riding by myself, without a time frame or obligations, had been hard to squeeze in with their busy calendar.

  I loved my family with every drop of my blood, but I wasn’t the type to sit pretty and smile. I would rather run around, muck out a stall or two, get my hands dirty, and feel useful.

  My patience had a limit, and I had reached it a long time ago.

  “Sim. And nervous too.”

  She nodded. “I know. You’ll be fine, though. You’re smart and pretty. Girls will want to know all your secrets and boys will fall head over heels for you.”

  “Boys? Who’s talking about boys?” Leo strolled in the stable. As usual, my twin brother wore jeans and no shirt.

  �
��Eita.” I slapped my hand over my eyes. “Put on a T-shirt.”

  Hannah laughed. Of course, she was laughing. He was her boyfriend. She probably enjoyed staring at his chest. I didn’t.

  “Don’t change the subject, senhorita.” Leo halted beside Hannah and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. Most of the time, it was cute to see how much they loved each other. But sometimes, it was sickening. Didn’t they get tired of being together all the time? “I’ll punch any boy who looks at you the wrong way.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Leo, we just turned twenty-two. I don’t need your protection anymore.”

  He shrugged. “You’ll be fifty and I’ll still be watching over you.”

  “Meu Deus. Good thing I’ll be many miles away.”

  His happy demeanor fell through, and a knot appeared between his brows. “Too many miles away.”

  And I couldn’t wait for it.

  I whirled around and patted Argus’s neck then kissed Preta’s forehead. “Be a good girl, okay.” I inhaled a deep breath and put on a smile before facing my brother and his girlfriend. “I should get going.” After all, I had to drive seventeen hours to get to Colorado.

  Without waiting for an answer, I marched out of the stables to the parking lot beside the main house, hearing Leo’s and Hannah’s footsteps as they followed me.

  After I told him of my plans a month ago, Leo decided I shouldn’t leave without a car. He said it would be helpful to have my own set of wheels wherever I went, so he gave me a brand new red Grand Cherokee for our birthday. I wanted another SUV, but since Jeep was his sponsor, I had no say in it. Besides, I hadn’t set up my own bank account here in the U.S. since we moved. At the time, it didn’t seem like a big thing, since I had debit and credit cards from my parents’ account and I didn’t need to ask permission to buy anything. That changed after my fight with my father. Now, I didn’t feel like taking his money for anything, and I depended on Leo’s bank account. He insisted he didn’t mind, but I did.

  I opened the driver’s door and stared inside for a moment. I had jammed everything I owned in there, everything I had brought from Brazil and bought here since. It didn’t look like much, but the car was about to explode clothes and boots and cowboy hats everywhere.

  Sighing, I faced Leo and Hannah. “Thanks. For everything.”

  Hannah pulled me into a hug. “Drive safe. Call us every time you stop to eat or rest. And call us when you get there. Take care. Have fun. And—”

  “Okay, Mom,” I teased, breaking the hug. Leo opened his arms and I wrinkled my nose. “I’m not hugging you. Put on a T-shirt first, then we can talk about it.”

  Ignoring me, he wound his arms around me. “Come here.” I squirmed, which made him squeeze me tighter. “Everything Hannah said, okay? Be a good girl.”

  I stepped back and shook my head at him. “I’m always a good girl.” He snorted, but I decided this wasn’t the time to start an argument. I slipped inside my SUV and looked at them. “I’ll see you soon.”

  “Farewell,” Hannah said.

  “Tchau,” Leo said.

  I turned on the engine, closed the door, put on my seat belt, and tuned the radio to a loud country song before driving out of the parking lot, off the ranch, and taking the first step into my new life.

  ***

  The University of Fort Howell, located in the tiny town of Fort Howell, Colorado, just east of Aurora, buzzed with life. Classes started Wednesday, but today the dorms and the registrar office opened, allowing students to get ready and acquainted with the campus, and with new friends.

  As I drove through the streets, students walked up and down, carrying boxes, bags, sofas, mattresses. Parents took pictures instead of helping. Cars were parked in non-parking spaces, or were doubled parked. There were smiles and tears everywhere.

  After driving seventeen hours, not counting my stops and the nap I took at a rest area during the night, I was so tired that I didn’t think I would feel anything once I got here. Tche, I was wrong.

  Butterflies danced in my stomach, my hands shook, and my palms sweated. A stupid smile adorned my lips, and I knew I looked like a dork. This was it. This was me, living my life, taking charge. Who cared about not transferring almost any classes from the two years of vet school in Brazil? Who cared if I had to take two years of pre-vet to be able to apply to vet school here? I was young. I had time. This was my chance to start anew, to do it better, to be better.

  Following the campus map, I turned on the Greek Lane and instantly got the name. Large houses lined the street, with lush, green lawns, colorful flowers and tall trees, porches or archways, and big Greek letters flat against a prominent wall.

  The famous Greek life. Brazil didn’t have anything like it, which made me that much more curious about it.

  I slowed down, scanning around. Soon I realized that the left side of the street harbored sororities, and the right side housed fraternities. In the front lawn of the sororities, girls ran to other girls, embracing, squealing, and jumping up and down. In front of the fraternities, guys walked to other guys, bumped fists, shook hands, slapped backs.

  At the last fraternity house of the street, marked by the letters BAT, a guy was sprawled on a lounge chaise in the middle of the front lawn, under the shade of an umbrella and drinking what looked like a colorful margarita glass. Around him, other guys played with a football, throwing it at each other, often bumping each other or stopping to gawk at girls who arrived at the sororities or walked down the sidewalk.

  One of the guys pointed to a sorority house. “Look!” he yelled. The others turned, and they all looked at whatever. Despite it all, I looked too. However, before I could see anything, something hit the passenger door of my car. On instinct, I sank my foot on the break.

  As I exited my car, one of the guys from BAT jogged in my direction.

  “Sorry about that,” he said, picking the ball from the ground. “Garrett, there—” He gestured toward a tall guy standing a few yards from him. Wearing a dark brown cowboy hat and cowboy boots, Garrett turned his attention from the sorority house to me. One corner of his lips quirked up and he tipped his hat. “—was supposed to catch the ball.”

  “But he was busy gawking at the girls across the street,” I said.

  The guy smiled. “Well, yes.”

  I shook my head and examined my car. A tiny dent marked the passenger door.

  “Great,” I muttered.

  “Hey, I couldn’t help but notice your accent. Where are you from?”

  That was always one of the first things anyone said or asked me in any conversation.

  “Brazil,” I said.

  The guy’s eyes widened. “Wow. For real?” I nodded. “Cool.” Still smiling, he took a step closer to me. “I always heard Brazilian girls were beautiful.” His eyes raked me from head to toe and back. He seemed to like my faded jeans, cowboy boots, and tank top. “Glad to know it’s true.”

  I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

  “Hey, Jeff,” Garrett called. “You’re hogging the ball, bro.”

  “I gotta …” Jeff pointed back to his friends. What? Did he think I wanted to stand here in the middle of the street, messing with traffic, just to talk to him? “I’ll probably see you around. Right?”

  “Yeah, sure.” I waved him off.

  After glaring at the dent in my door for ten more seconds, I marched around my car and slipped inside. I avoided looking at the BAT house as I drove by and turned onto another street.

  ***

  From the outside, the dorm building looked like most buildings in Brazil—four stories, with several windows lining the red-brownish walls. Except for the part where there were full apartments inside Brazilian edifices, and here there were tiny bedrooms and common bathrooms. That was going to be hard to get used to.

  Since all the buildings looked the same, I slowed down again, reading the banners on top of each main entrance, looking for my future home, the Linda Hudson Residence. It was right beside th
e Colton Hudson Residence. Go figure.

  The parking lot was behind my building, and I had almost given up parking there when I found an unoccupied spot in the back.

  Holding my purse and a small bag, I entered the Linda Hudson Residence, climbed up one flight of stairs, and turned right, looking for room number 216. The room door was ajar. A girl stood in the middle of the room, and an older couple sat on one of the beds.

  “Look, dear, this must be your roommate,” the woman said.

  A blond girl with beautiful curls and brown eyes turned to me with a big smile. “Hi! Are you in room 216 too?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  The bedroom wasn’t as small as I thought it would be, but it wasn’t that great either. If there was a line running across the room, I could say the sides were symmetrical. A wooden twin bed, thin mattress, nightstand, desk and chair, a drawer chest, and a door, which was probably the closet.

  Apparently, the girl had arrived here early, because her things were already spread over the right side of the bedroom. Pink comforter and pillow on the bed, pink lamp and alarm clock on the nightstand, books on the desk, and portraits over the drawer chest.

  “Come in, then,” the girl said. I couldn’t help but notice the fitted pink polo she wore and the big Greek letters on the left side. “I’m Molly Stuart, your roommate.”

  “I’m Beatriz Fernandes.” I stepped inside, dragging my bag over the worn beige carpet, and turned to the unoccupied side of the room. “But I prefer Bia.”

  “Cool. Bia. I like it,” Molly said. “I hope you don’t mind, but I chose a side without waiting for you.”

  I dropped my bags on my bed. “It’s fine.”

  She introduced me quickly to her parents. They were from Denver and had come with Molly for her first day at school. They did that every semester, even though she was starting her third year here. As expected, they asked about my family.

  I thought about lying because I didn’t want anyone pointing at me with one of three options. A, they loved my brothers and my cousin and were big fans, which meant they would bother me. B, they knew about Leo and everything involving him: his problematic phase and last year’s tragic events, in which case they would pity me or be wary of me. C, they knew nothing about polo and never heard of my family before.