by Becky Wicks
Jodie looked away. She didn’t know him any more, and she didn’t particularly want to, but she’d bet her last banknote his life was a revolving door of mud and mayhem and horses and avoiding small talk...or any kind of talk, she thought in a flicker of fresh irritation at how he’d ended things with her.
‘It’s good to see you, Crawford.’ Her father, with his freshly shaven jaw set in stern contemplation, was resting one hand on the end of the marble centre island. From his seat on one of the bar stools, Cole nodded bluntly at the obvious lie. Her father had never approved of him—he’d once remarked that Cole had his head in the clouds and would never be able to support her.
* * *
‘I know you were close to my brother, Crawford,’ her father continued. ‘I hear he pulled some strings to get you a scholarship in London after you ducked out of going to Edinburgh with Jodie?’
Jodie felt her cheeks blaze at the dig on her behalf, and she hid behind a bite of her puff pastry canapé. If this was her father’s way of reprimanding Cole for treating her poorly he didn’t have to, especially not today of all days. Although she couldn’t deny that she was interested to hear what he’d say.
‘That’s correct.’ Cole seemed unfazed by the dig. Maybe he hadn’t even noticed it. He reached a hand down to pet Ziggy. ‘I owe a lot to Casper. I worked hard for him but you’re right, his contacts in London helped with my scholarship. I also trained here at Everleigh in the summers, when I wasn’t in Sri Lanka. And I came right back after I graduated. That was always the plan.’
Her father was nodding politely but Jodie felt the bad blood simmer in her veins again. How dared he talk about his ‘plan’ with Casper when he’d pulled the plans they’d made together right out from under her? Also...he’d been in Sri Lanka? What on earth had taken him there?
‘This was always more of a home to me than Thistles. Casper was kind of a father figure to me, I’m sure you know that.’ Cole reached for the bowl of peanuts on the counter. He scooped a handful into his mouth and she heard them crunch, feeling his eyes on her. Was he thinking she looked different now? Better or worse?
Why should she care?
‘I was sorry to hear about Jack,’ her dad continued, and Cole frowned, filling the space with even more awkwardness. She knew Cole’s father had never even met her dad. The only time she’d seen Jack herself had been when the cops had dragged him off in handcuffs. They’d been fourteen, summer had just begun, and she’d followed the sound of the sirens across the adjoining fields to Thistles.
Cole had held her back at the gate. Jack had been blind drunk, struggling with the authorities. He’d ended up serving time for tax evasion, something about stashing funds in a foreign account. She’d never got the details. Cole wouldn’t talk about it, not that he’d ever talked about his dad a lot before he’d been arrested either. Or any of his family. He really had just seemed to live for his horses.
‘How did he die?’ she asked now, feeling slightly guilty that she hadn’t called him when she’d heard about Jack passing away.
Cole met her eyes. ‘He was taking a leak into the River Stour. Guess he didn’t realise where the edge was.’
‘He drowned?’ Jodie felt terrible. Cole just nodded, his face not giving anything away.
‘And your mother?’ she pressed, cursing the fact that her mouth was asking questions when she’d told her mind not to care about his life at all. His mother had always been sweet to her. She had been a quiet, meek little thing, wouldn’t say boo to a goose. ‘How is she?’
‘Loving life, thank you,’ Cole said. His face softened slightly ‘After my dad was found dead she lived here at Everleigh for a few months. Then she met a guy called Darren at the organic market. They run a mixed farm of arable, sheep and beef now down in Puddletown.’
‘That sounds nice for her and... Darren, was it?’ her father said, feigning interest. Jodie had almost forgotten he was there, but she felt her mouth twitch in spite of her mood. Her dad wouldn’t know a dairy heifer from a chocolate milkshake and he had little interest in farmers, or anything they stood for. Casper had had chickens, pigs and horses, a sprawling estate and a successful veterinary practice in the countryside. Michael Everleigh had accolades and trophies and first-class tickets to movie premieres.
Her mother, Vivian, was the other half of their successful screenwriting duo and the three of them had lived in Greenwich since she was born. The Everleigh brothers couldn’t have been more different if they’d tried. Looking at her father now, Jodie realised he hadn’t disliked Cole. He’d just never really understood him. Not like she did...or thought she had, once.
From the second she’d met Cole she’d been fascinated, even though he’d shown no real interest in her that first summer. His indifference had only fascinated her more because he hadn’t been like the boys at her school. She could still recall the moment she’d first laid eyes on his wild black, untamed curls and muddy jeans.
Cole had rescued wild horses with Casper and ridden them bareback, barefoot. He’d had zero interest in TV or any other gadgets but he’d known how to drive a tractor and milk a goat. He’d liked reading big, wordy books by writers like Tolstoy, Hemingway and Shakespeare, which she’d thought odd because he’d never had too many words to share himself. And he’d spent most of his nights in the stables, turning pages, tuning in to the horses.
His quietness had made him observant of everything, especially around the animals. She’d seen the proof many times that he’d had a real gift for picking up on the tiniest shifts in their behaviour and demeanour. He’d made countless diagnoses out on calls and around the estate way before Casper had even made any examinations.
To Jodie he’d been a mystery. A welcome distraction from the fact that she’d been deposited with her uncle Casper purely so her parents could get rid of her for the summer. He was a still a mystery now, she mused, noting how his new short beard lined his lips—lips she’d once kissed hungrily, lazily, desperately, in every way possible, for hours on end.
Cole’s phone buzzed. ‘It’s the solicitor,’ he told them after a moment. ‘I bet she can’t make it through this snow to read the will.’
‘Shame, that, seeing as no one knows what my brother put in that will yet,’ her dad grumbled. ‘I’m probably the allocated executor,’ he continued, ‘and I really have to leave right after this.’
Jodie met Cole’s eyes, wincing at her father’s words. He clearly expected to have inherited the estate, being Casper’s only sibling. Yet he was still putting his work schedule first.
‘Excuse me a moment,’ Cole said. He slid off his school and moved to the corner of the kitchen by the copper sink. Jodie watched Ziggy pad after him, wishing she wasn’t still so sucked in by his infuriating handsomeness. Cole’s commanding bone structure and the nose that ended bluntly instead of in a point gave him as much character as his new beard. His whole persona spoke of a life outdoors in the elements, and she shivered in the warm kitchen, recalling the feeling back at the car of being in his arms again.
She’d wanted to feel repulsed, but she’d stuck to him like a magnet for far longer than necessary. It had felt like that, at least.
His conversation seemed to last a while. She kept one eye on Emmie, who was chatting to a young boy about her age over by the roaring fireplace. But whenever she glanced at him, Cole seemed to be watching her, nodding, as if his conversation involved her somehow. Or maybe he was simply appraising this new, older version of someone he’d once known so well, the same as she was doing with him.
Had he ever thought about her when he’d been studying in London, instead of Edinburgh? Or in Sri Lanka? She’d never been anywhere that exotic.
Where else in the world had he been while she and Ethan had been rained into an Edinburgh townhouse, surrounded by nappies and baby toys? They’d had childcare and assistance, thanks to their parents, but their lives hadn’t exactly been like mos
t students’ lives for the seven years they’d worked on their degrees.
Not that Cole was entirely to blame for her pregnancy...it could just as easily have been his child she’d conceived, she supposed. Even though they’d always been careful. She’d only been off the Pill a couple of months when she’d slept with Ethan and they’d both been so incredibly drunk it was a miracle they’d even figured out what went where.
Cole caught her eyes again. Annoyed, she averted her gaze and reached for another canapé. All the times they’d had sex on this property, they’d ‘christened’ pretty much every room. It had been by far the best sex of her life. She suddenly felt hot in her tight black dress. She didn’t want to find anything attractive about Cole but it was like asking a toddler not to like ice cream.
Jodie watched Cole pull on his plaid jacket and a thick woollen scarf.
Finally off the phone, she expected him to try and sneak off unseen, just him and his dog. Instead, he signalled for her to follow him outside into the snow.
* * *
The log cabin on the path towards the stables must have been at least fifteen feet long. It was sheltered by swaying oaks and sycamores, a peaceful oasis made entirely of thick knotted tree trunks and weathered oak panels. Jodie pulled her jacket tighter around her black lace dress as Cole led them to a stop outside the window.
‘This wasn’t here before,’ she observed, as the snow swirled around them and settled on the cherry trees in the garden. ‘Wasn’t this just a field?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I built it here because of the trees. Gives me more privacy.’
‘You built it yourself?’
He laughed softly. ‘I had some help. We took reclaimed steel sash windows from at least five different projects in the area. Would’ve gone to waste otherwise.’
‘Good to hear you’re such an eco-warrior,’ she quipped, aware that her nerves around him were making her prickly. He’d done a good job. The place had clearly cost a lot of money, humble as it appeared.
‘I work out the back; we had another consultation space built with access right onto the paddocks.’
‘What do you do here exactly?’
‘Behavioural therapy, with horses mostly. People come to me with all kinds of animals. They just started showing up at the main house and it got a little much. So we began redirecting them here.’
‘Behavioural therapy, huh?’ Jodie was letting it all sink in. It shouldn’t surprise her that people sought Cole out. He was better at reading animals than any vet she’d ever met.
A light inside the cabin illuminated a fireplace as they passed a window. She made out a comfy-looking long couch and a sheepskin rug. The shelves around the fireplace were piled with books. Tolstoy, Hemingway, Shakespeare... All the classics he’d always been buried in, still within reach. No TV.
She wouldn’t say it out loud, but they both knew Cole had built this cabin just where they’d imagined ‘their retreat’ would be. Her stomach churned as he led her onwards, but she couldn’t help stopping by the snow-covered stone benches laid out in a semi-circle around one side of the firepit. They’d put cushions over those in the summer, years ago.
‘Casper always loved that fire pit,’ she said.
Cole stopped beside her in the snow, sighing in nostalgia. ‘He did.’
They were both silent for a moment, remembering her uncle. He’d been the king of toasting marshmallows. ‘It’s so strange, being here without him,’ she said quietly, swallowing a lump in her throat.
‘Tell me about it.’ Cole eyed her sideways. She noticed his fingers twitching at his sides before he shoved them in his pockets. ‘We need to talk, Jodie.’
Discomfort crossed his handsome features, making her heart start to thrum. She swallowed again, a mix of tears and nerves. Of course they needed to talk. They both knew they had unresolved issues.
‘What about?’ she said anyway. She’d let him start with an apology. He owed her that much for the stone-cold silence that had tormented her like a ghost, after he’d watched her drive off in that taxi. She’d told him to come and find her when he came to his senses, but he never had.
He was looking at her now the way he’d looked at her before, she realised, when he’d delivered the most terrible news. She felt a little queasy. ‘Let’s go somewhere warmer,’ he suggested.
At the heavy wooden doors to the stables Cole ushered her inside away from the elements and pressed a booted foot to the door behind them, closing it with a bang. The wind reached through the gap beneath like icy fingers, blowing at a half-empty hay net on the wall.
Jodie’s teeth began to chatter as the sweet, damp smell of grass and ammonia rattled her memory bank. They’d sheltered from a summer storm in here once, and had made love against the creaking fences of empty stalls, and behind hay bales, even on the seat of the old rusting tractor. The rain on the corrugated iron roof had been like a barrage of deafening bullets, concealing their moans of pleasure.
‘So...you wanted to talk,’ she said, wishing the memories weren’t so vivid in his presence.
Cole’s deep brown eyes narrowed, forcing his brows to meet beneath his hat. Saying nothing, he uncoiled his scarf. Before she could refuse he looped the thick, black woollen warmth of it around her neck and she prayed he wouldn’t hear her heart thudding wildly in the silence.
‘Come,’ he said. ‘There’s someone who wants to see you.’
He led her along the gated stalls. There was a horse in each one, but he stopped at the second to last in line. Jodie almost teared up again at the sight of their horse. ‘Mustang is still here?’
‘Where else would he be?’
Cole lifted the bar at the stall door. The top half was pinned back by an iron hook and the huge black stallion stopped his graceful grazing on a pile of sweet grass to look at her. He was older and slower now, Jodie noticed with a pang... The horse, not Cole.
Cole was bigger and stronger and broader and he filled her with as much apprehension as ever. She watched him in the lowlight, holding out his palm, letting Mustang snuffle him.
Damn him for looking so good next to a horse. The only thing hotter was watching him tame one. He looked good with a beard, she mused again before she could remind herself not to think such things. She knew the coarse hairs along his jaw hid a small scar on his chin. He’d said he’d got it slipping on seaweed, foraging for winkles one summer when he was ten.
‘He remembers you,’ Cole told her, without looking away from Mustang.
‘I’m sure he does.’ Jodie followed him into the stall. She’d always been in awe of their relationship—Cole had brought Mustang to the estate from a government enclosure, after he’d been herded with a pack of wild horses to make way for agricultural land. Mustang had been bucking wild when he’d arrived. Cole had been the only one able to get close.
Mustang took a step towards her with his head bowed. ‘Hey, sweet thing,’ she said with affection. ‘Remember how you came at me like a five-hundred-kilogram Doberman the first time I crawled into your pen? Cole had to jump in front of me to stop you.’
‘Jodie.’ He stood up straighter then leaned pensively against the fence looking at her like he meant business. Her stomach did another somersault. ‘The solicitor said Casper made me executor of the will.’
She blinked at him. ‘You?’
‘We can schedule a meeting to go over the details but there’s something you should know about the inheritance. It’s only fair to tell you, too, now that I know myself.’
Jodie stared at him blankly and continued running a hand absently along Mustang’s soft mane. She supposed making Cole executor of the will made sense: he’d been like a son to Casper. But she couldn’t imagine why she’d inherited anything; she hadn’t seen or spoken to her uncle in a long time, aside from the odd Christmas card. Anything to do with him or Everleigh had just reminded her of Cole.
‘Jodie, he’s left you fifty percent.’
Her hand froze. Surely he couldn’t mean what she thought he meant. The estate was worth millions. She made a squeaking noise before her words came out right: ‘Fifty percent...of what?’
Cole shook his head, extended his arm and gestured around them. ‘This, Jodie. Half of Everleigh, half of the estate.’
Half of the estate? She shook her head numbly. It was a moment before she could speak.
‘Well...what about the other half?’ she managed, pulling her arms around herself. This was crazy. What would her father say?
Cole took off his hat and dragged a hand through his hair, like he didn’t know what to say, and suddenly she knew.
‘You?’ Jodie almost laughed in shock, and stumbled over a pile of straw.
‘Equal shares,’ he confirmed, putting a hand on her elbow to steady her. ‘This is as much of a surprise to me as it is to you. I thought he’d leave everything to your dad; his only brother.’
Jodie’s throat was dry. She buried her face lower into his scarf, struggling to comprehend what was happening. The soft, warm wool smelled like Cole, like comfort and cologne...and pain and rejection.
She crossed to the fence beside him, leaned against it for support. ‘This is nuts... I mean, what am I supposed to do here? What does he want me to do with half of Everleigh?’
Cole shrugged. ‘Work on it with me?’
‘With you?’ Jodie almost laughed again. The idea was preposterous. ‘Cole, we haven’t spoken in the last twelve years; we wouldn’t even be speaking now if Casper hadn’t died.’
‘I know. Jodie, I’m as shocked as you are, but it’s what he wanted.’
She shook her head as Mustang snuffled on the hay at their feet. ‘Well, he didn’t think it through. I have a life in Scotland now, Cole, so I’ll have to sell my half.’
‘You can’t,’ he said simply, standing taller and exiting the stall. She stopped at the gate behind him and crossed her arms.