by Elle Thorpe
His shoulders slumped. “I should have known she was full of shit. She had no money. She would have just spent it on drugs if she had. I don’t know why I believed her. I should have known she’d be too selfish to do anything that might have made someone other than herself happy. But I just kept on believing things would be different and kept on giving her second chances.”
He put the saddle down on the hay bale. “She didn’t take me back to my grandparents. She took off with me in one of her ratty boyfriend’s cars, and we drove for days. I had no idea where we were, and she wouldn’t let me contact my grandparents. Years went by before I got to see them again.”
“Wow,” I whispered, swallowing hard. Nobody deserved a childhood like that. A flicker of anger ignited within me. How could his mother do that to him? He could have had a normal childhood—a wonderful childhood, with his grandparents, but she’d been too selfish to allow it.
He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Yeah.”
I didn’t know what to say, but I’d listened like I promised. He didn’t need my pity. It wasn’t like anything I could say would change the past. My fingers itched to reach out and touch him, to give him some comfort, but I didn’t know if he’d want that either. Needing to do something with my hands, I picked up a bridle from the stack and cleaned it absent-mindedly.
Low shot me a look of surprise, but we cleaned side by side in silence for a while before he said, “You look like you know what you’re doing there.”
I nodded. “It’s not the first time I’ve cleaned a bridle.”
“You ride?”
“I used to.”
“Used to? So not anymore?”
“No, not anymore.”
Silence stretched out between us as I shifted around on my hay bale. Where the silence between us had been comfortable moments earlier, I now felt twitchy. He was waiting for me to elaborate, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I jumped up, walking back to Lijah, patting her one last time before I forced myself to look at Low.
I bit my lip, needing to leave before I could run my mouth. “I should let you get her ready for the night. But thanks for this.” I tilted my head towards the horse. He hadn’t moved from his hay bale, still studying me with those ice blue eyes.
“You don’t have to go, Reese. I wasn’t going to press you to share just because I had. This isn’t a tit for tat situation.”
The heat rose in my cheeks, and I was glad it was almost dark in the barn. “It’s getting late. I should get home.”
He stood up. “I’ll walk you out.”
I shook my head, backing away. I didn’t want to walk out with him. That would just give me more time to say things I really didn’t want to voice, or for silence to drag out between us and things to get awkward again. I didn’t want that. This being friends with him business seemed to be working out better so far, but it was a tremulous link. I didn’t want to break it.
“I’m fine. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Not giving him time to answer, I jogged down the aisle of the barn and yanked on the heavy door. He didn’t move to follow me. I slid the door closed, leaving myself standing on the other side. Alone. Just like I’d been for the past twelve months.
10
Reese
Jamison slammed the dishwasher door on the last load of the day and switched it on. The display panel lit up and a quiet hum filled the room. “All I have to say is thank God you two sorted your shit out. I don’t know what you said, or did”—he paused, looking like he was trying to stifle his own amusement—“but this shift was way more pleasant than yesterday’s.”
Low looked over at me and smiled, his friend smile. The smile that made his eyes warm and showed off his straight white teeth and the slight dimple in one cheek I hadn’t noticed before. He’d attempted to keep things pleasant between us today, starting casual conversations and shooting me that look. Each one dissolved a little more of the lingering tension until I’d begun smiling back at him.
“Shut up, Jam,” Low joked, “I’m always a delight.”
Jamison snorted, and I raised an eyebrow. Low winked at me. My breath caught a little, and my attempt to muffle it resulted in a coughing fit. Low clapped me on the back, and I smiled weakly at him.
“It’s just good to see you both happier today. That’s all I’m saying.” Jamison looked at the clock on the wall. “I’m out. You guys right to lock up?”
I nodded, rifling through my bag for my keys.
Low moved to stand beside me. “Actually, Reese, can you stay back tonight for a few minutes? We have to count stock at the end of the month and I want to go over a few things with you before then.”
I paused. We’d had a slow shift. He could have shown me the stocktake stuff more than once today. “Uh, sure?”
I tried to quiet the hopeful little voice in my head that whispered, he wants to be alone with you. The ‘just being friends’ thing had worked well so far. I wasn’t about to ruin it.
After Jamison left, Low pulled up the bar’s accounts on his laptop and we spent a professional forty minutes poring over it. He showed me how to run the stock level reports and how to reconcile the results. We went through last quarter’s stocktake, and I jotted a few notes on my Post-its as he explained each step we’d need to take. I was trying to memorise the stock locations when he threw his pen down on the table and ran his hand through his hair, pushing it off his face. “Screw this, I’m over it. Do you want to come down and see Lijah with me?”
“I’d love that,” I responded quickly. Going to the dentist would have been more fun than looking at stock levels, and I’d never pass up an opportunity to go out to the stables.
Somehow, every evening for the next four days, that’s where the two of us ended up after our shifts. We always made some excuse to stay later than the others, and then we’d slip down to the stables to see Lijah. Standing there, in the semi dark with Low by my side, and Lijah eating treats out of the palm of my hand, became my favourite part of the day.
Early on Friday evening, I hung over the fence of a paddock, watching Lijah prance around in the twilight. Low stood next to me, our arms touching, his eyes trained on her. We’d talked about tons of random stuff during the week while we’d been out here. All of it frivolous. He’d shared something so private, when he’d told me about his mother earlier in the week, but I had yet to let him in, in the same way. I didn’t bring his family up again, and he hadn’t asked about mine. Instead, we’d talked about TV shows and movies, music, and sports. Discussed if Riley and Bianca were secretly dating behind our backs. Talked about the best bars in town, and how the public transport sucked.
Lijah pranced over to us and nuzzled her nose into my shoulder. Here, with the setting sun, a beautiful animal and fresh air, I was content. Lijah, Low, and the track were all helping to fill the gaping void I’d been carrying around since I’d been forced to leave my home behind. The peace I found here soothed the ragged edges of my soul.
“Why don’t you ride anymore?” Low’s voice was quiet, his question no more than a ripple in the silence around us as he pulled me from my thoughts. I flicked a glance at him and realised his eyes were no longer trained on Lijah. I drummed my fingers on the rough wood of the fence and debated whether to answer. The old, familiar guilt rose within me.
“I don’t want to tell you.”
“Why not?”
“You won’t like me very much if I do.”
He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and ran his finger along my jaw, tilting it, forcing me to face him.
My breath became uneven. We’d been working on this friend thing all week, and it had been going well. I’d pushed aside the tingles when he touched me accidentally and ignored that simmering heat that always seemed to be present between us. We worked as friends. But that hadn’t been a ‘friend’ sort of gesture.
“You don’t have to tell me, but I doubt anything you say could change my opinion of you. I didn’t even mean to ask; it just sort of slipped out. It’s so obvious
how much happiness you get from the horses. I don’t understand why you wouldn’t want to ride one.”
Moving away from his touch, I dropped my chin onto my folded arms. He’d been so honest with me when he’d spoken about his childhood. I hadn’t told anyone what I’d done, and the weight of keeping such a huge event in my life a secret was crippling. But it was terrifying even considering voicing the words out loud. Was this what he’d felt before he’d told me about his mother? Had he worried I’d judge him? I sighed. I didn’t know where to start.
“I used to ride. All the time. My family owns a stable, and my dad teaches horse riding to local kids. Their place is nothing like this, though.” I gestured around me at the vast property, filled with its dozens of paddocks, barns, and million-dollar horses. “Dad still worked a day job, but he taught lessons on the side for extra income. We rode every day before I’d go to school and he’d go to work. It was a special thing we did together. My mother hated riding, so it was always just the two of us.
“They had another baby just after I turned ten. I have a little sister. Her name is Gemma.” My voice cracked. I hadn’t spoken her name out loud in a year now. My shoulders slumped inwards as I trained my eyes on the dirt.
He moved closer, so our arms were touching again, and his head tilted towards me. “It’s okay, we can talk about something else.”
I shook my head. “I just don’t talk about it often.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him nod, then I focused down on the ground again. It would be easier to get the next bit out if I didn’t look him directly.
“Last year, my dad got a promotion at work and had to put in longer hours. So I took over most of the riding lessons for him. I was first year at uni, and I needed a part-time job, so it worked out for both of us. I took a group of students out one afternoon, one of them being my little sister…” I trailed off, thinking about that day. My throat tightened.
“I saddled up the horses, like always. The lesson went fine at first, but…” I bit at the corner of my thumbnail and debated making another run for the exit. “I don’t want you to hate me,” I whispered.
“I won’t hate you, Reese, I promise. Trust me.” His warm voice had a soothing effect on me. The words were on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to tell him. I really did. It would be a relief for him to know, to be able to talk to someone about it.
“She was the most experienced rider in the group, even though she was only nine, so I’d given the tame old nags to the other kids. She could handle the horse, though. He was a good, solid animal; he didn’t spook easily. Except this time, he bucked.” Words began tumbling from my lips. Now that I’d started, I needed to finish before the words imploded within me. “She tried so hard to hold on, but he wanted her off. He threw her straight into the fence.”
My throat had closed up, I was sure of it. Pressure spread through my chest and behind my eyes. I was suffocating. I sucked in a deep breath, but it wasn’t enough to quell the emotions and tears dripping down my cheeks. I wiped them away, not wanting to cry in front of him.
“She landed so awkwardly, and then his hooves came down on top of her. She looked like a broken rag doll, just lying there in the dust.” I tried to steady my voice. “I’ve gone over it in my mind a million times. I must have done the cinch up too tight, or maybe too loose, and it slipped. That’s all I can think of. That his saddle hurt, and he wanted it gone. I was distracted by my phone, too busy messaging a friend from uni about some guy she was dating. I don’t remember if I checked the saddles the way I normally did.” My head ached, full of dark memories. I thought it would feel better if I told someone, but the words stabbed like jabs directly to my heart.
“Jesus.” Low blew out a long, deep breath, as if he’d been holding it. He took my hand, and I found I’d clenched it into a fist. Low eased it open and massaged my aching fingers.
“I don’t remember the trip to the hospital. I’m not sure if I went in the ambulance or if I drove myself there. All I remember is sitting in the waiting room, waiting for my parents to arrive. And I remember the shaking. I couldn’t stop the shaking no matter how much I rubbed at my arms and legs.”
I sighed and twisted my neck, trying to relieve the tension. I looked down at our hands. Low had stopped his massage, but he hadn’t taken his hand away. He moved his thumb in slow circles over my palm.
“She wasn’t okay, was she?”
Tears spilled over again, but it was a losing battle to blink them back. I shook my head.
“Here’s the worst bit. I don’t even know for sure. The surgeon came out and told us that along with broken ribs and other superficial injuries, he thought she’d damaged her spinal cord.” I didn’t bother mentioning that even though the doctor hadn’t confirmed anything right then and there, his face told us everything we’d needed to know.
Silence fell between us, and Low squeezed my hand. “That wasn’t your fault, though, Reese. It was an accident. You know that, right?”
I shook my head again. “Of course it’s my fault, Low! I was the one in charge. I was the one who saddled that damn horse. I gave him to my little sister, and now she won’t ever be able to ride again. Or walk. She’s in a wheelchair for life because I thought my social life was more important than being thorough.”
“I don’t agree with that at all. Accidents happen. You couldn’t have foreseen this.”
“Yeah, well, you’re the only one who sees it that way. My dad wasn’t as forgiving as you.” I sniffed, remembering the way I’d stood in the hospital waiting room, while my father screamed every obscenity under the sun at me. My mother hadn’t stopped him, too consumed in her own grief over my sister to worry about me.
“Dad blamed me. Said I’d always been irresponsible, and he should’ve never trusted me to run the riding school. He wouldn’t even let me see my sister.” I let the tears run down my face freely.
Low reached out and pulled me into his arms. He ran his hand up and down my back, over and over as I cried into his shoulder.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmured into my hair.
He pressed his lips to my forehead before he pulled away and cupped my face in his hands, using his thumbs to wipe away my tears. “But your dad is wrong. He would have been in shock and not thinking clearly. How was he when things calmed down?”
His gaze was unwavering, and for a second, I wanted to lean in and kiss him. It would be so easy. Kiss him, take him home. I could forget about all this shit for a few hours if I could lose myself in him.
I pulled back a little. I had to stop thinking of him like that. He wasn’t the Band-Aid to my problems.
“I have no idea. He kicked me out. Told me to pack my bags and get out of his sight, because he didn’t know how he could look at me again without remembering how I’d destroyed their lives. I left that night.” Those had been his exact words. They were burned into my memory as clearly as my name and date of birth.
“How long ago was this?”
“Just over a year.”
“A year! And you haven’t spoken to them at all?”
“No.”
“Jesus…”
We turned back to watch Lijah, but he kept an arm around my shoulders, and I snuggled a little closer to him, enjoying the comfort of his body, even if I didn’t deserve it.
“So...what? You moved out and haven’t spoken to your family since?”
I shrugged. “Pretty much. I couch-surfed for a few days, then I found a job at a local pub that had rooms above it for rent. But I couldn’t stand being so close to home. Driving past the hospital, knowing my family was inside, and not knowing how Gemma was...I kept running into people in town who knew me. They all wanted updates on my sister, and I just wanted to die all over again every time I had no answer for them. I only lasted a few days before I moved out here.”
“What happened to uni?”
“Gave it up to work full-time.”
I didn’t expand any further, but Low still had questions. “Tha
t’s a shame. What were you studying?”
“Bachelor of Veterinary Sciences.”
“You were going to be a vet?”
“Mmmhmm.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. You’d be an amazing vet, if how you are with Lijah is anything to go by.” He paused, his eyebrows drawing together as if he were working something out.
I didn’t say anything.
“You gave up riding to punish yourself, didn’t you?” His voice was flat.
“I just didn’t want to anymore,” I whispered. I couldn’t bear to peek at him, though I felt his gaze burning into the side of my face.
“What have you been doing for the last year then?”
“Working. Drinking. Having a lot of sex,” I admitted with a short laugh.
Low abruptly moved his arm from my shoulders, and I turned to look at him, instantly missing the weight. To my surprise, his eyes were dark, his mouth drawn in a tight line.
What did I say wrong?
He hadn’t looked angry when I’d confessed about my sister. Was he jealous I’d been having sex? That was ridiculous. It’s not like we were together. We were barely even friends.
“You’ve been sleeping around?” The cool tone to his voice shocked me even more than his facial expression had.
My gaze narrowed. A chill rolled over me that had nothing to do with the temperature. I didn’t like his tone, and the accusation was bloody rich coming from him.
“I have sex. And no, I don’t have a steady partner, so if that’s your definition of sleeping around, then yeah, I guess that’s what I’ve been doing.” Sometimes the only way to forget my own problems was to be oblivious. Alcohol and sex did that for me. I wasn’t about to apologise to him for it.
“Tell me you’ve been using condoms.” Urgency replaced the anger as he searched my face, waiting for my reply. His gaze was too intense, so I turned away. But he grabbed the tops of my arms, forcing me to look at him.