Sugar Daddies

by Jade West

  The thought made me laugh, and it was snotty and wet and no doubt thoroughly unattractive, but those guys held me tight and kissed my hair and made it feel alright.

  “You’ll ride him again,” Carl said. “Just give it time. Don’t give up Katie, not on him and not on you, either.”

  “I’d never give up on him,” I said.

  “Not your dreams, either. Never give up on your dreams.”

  “My dream was to event with Samson. And to have Jack’s yard.” I sighed. “Both of those are gone now.”

  “For the time being,” Carl said. “But it’s not permanent. It’s not the end.”

  “Harrison Gables, the internship, the yard… Samson… it’s all gone.”

  They didn’t say a word.

  What could they say?

  They lowered me back into the chair and I was already tiring, but I didn’t want to leave.

  “Can I have a minute?” I asked. “I just want to sit with Samson awhile.”

  “Sure,” Carl said, and both of them ruffled my hair, gave me some space.

  I spoke to my boy, told him how much I’d missed him, how happy I was he was safe. Told him I’d find him a new home, somewhere nice to recover at pasture, somewhere with other horses and people who could help me take good care of him.

  I told him I loved him, how much I’d always loved him, how proud I was that he’d tried so hard for me on the course.

  I blushed as I heard footsteps behind me, unable to turn in my seat far enough to see if it was Rick or Carl coming back for me.

  “Hi, Katie,” a voice said, and my skin prickled, my heart thumping.

  I held my breath as my sister stepped into my eyeline, ready for the big I am to come out and start gloating.

  But she didn’t.

  She didn’t do anything like that at all.

  Verity launched right into an explanation of Samson’s current medical state. She told me how they were treating him, what painkillers he was on, and what the plan was for his improvement.

  She leaned against his stable door as she spoke, and my furry boy nudged at her like she was someone he cared about, someone he knew.

  My mind could hardly compute it.

  She rubbed his ears, and smiled at him. “He’s a really good lad,” she said. “He’s so good natured, Katie, and he has such good manners.” She looked at me. “You’ve done so well with him. He’s a testament to a good handler.”

  I shook my head. “He’s always been like that.”

  She cleared her throat. “You were great out there, on the course. You were doing so well.”

  The tears pricked. “No. I wasn’t. I was reckless.”

  “Unlucky,” she said. “You were unlucky. That’s all.”

  I shrugged, changing the subject. “I can’t believe he’s here, that you’re taking care of him. Thank you.” I met her eyes. “I know we’ve had our differences…”

  She laughed. “Yeah, well, you could say that.”

  I laughed a little, too. “A few differences.” I paused. “But thank you. He’s so important to me.”

  She smiled, and it reached all the way to her eyes. “No problem.” She shifted from one foot to the other, and I was jealous, just wished I could be on my own two feet. “Katie, I just want to say. I need to say I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  She shook her head as though I was crazy. “For everything. I was just a kid… but I was…”

  A mega bitch. A psycho from hell. A horrible little cow who ruined every chance I had of getting to know my father.

  “…scared,” she said. “I was scared.”

  “Scared?” The thought was strange. Alien. She’d never seemed scared. Not once.

  She shrugged. “My mother always taught us that attack is the best form of defence. No mercy, go get’ em and all that.” She sighed. “Then there was you, and it was all anyone talked about. All Dad talked about. Katie’s so lovely, Katie’s so pretty, so kind. Play nicely with Katie, look after Katie.”

  My blood turned cold.

  “And I was scared. Scared he’d like you best. Scared you’d take my things. And you were so lovely and pretty and kind. Everything I wasn’t. I hated it. I hated you.”

  “You made that pretty clear,” I said, but it wasn’t hostile.

  “I just wanted to say sorry. I mean, at work you were so much better than me… you could have gloated… I wouldn’t have blamed you, wouldn’t have blamed you for humiliating me or rubbing it in… that would have been fair…”

  “I wanted to,” I admitted. “Some days.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “No, I didn’t. That isn’t who I am.”

  She laughed. “I wish I could say the same thing about myself.”

  “Maybe you can,” I said. “Every day is a fresh start.”

  “That’s what I’d like,” she said. “One day, I mean. A fresh start.” She looked so nervous. “It put things in some perspective for me, seeing you at work. And then with Samson, you rode so well on that course. Really great. I had a horse who carried me through, but you, you really rode… you and him.” She gave him a pat. “I just wanted to say sorry, not that it’ll be worth anything, not after everything, but with Samson being here, and you and Dad making amends, I just thought I’d say it.”

  “Thanks.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. “I really appreciate your help with Samson. I really do.”

  “You’ll ride him again,” she said. “Give him some time out.”

  “A lot of time out.”

  She didn’t argue. “And your leg, it will get better…”

  “Eventually.” I was smiling, though, because she was right. It would get better. “It could have been worse. He made it. We’re both still here.”

  “And you’ll still do things together, and if you want to ride, when you’re better, I mean, you could always ride one of mine, just until Samson’s…” She took a breath. “I’d like that.”

  Too much, too soon, but I kept smiling. My emotions were piling up in my belly, and I felt small again, and weak. But strong, too. I felt it all at once.

  I tried to lighten the mood.

  “I’m so bummed about Harrison,” I said. “I mean talk about a shitter. You’ll have to take me some photos. I’ll want to know everything.” I laughed. “You’ll have to think of me, hobbling around on my crutches while you’re learning secrets from the best handler that ever existed.” I flipped her the finger, but it was good-humoured, as good-humoured as I could make it. “Lucky cowbag.”

  She didn’t seem to think it was funny, and I felt strangely guilty.

  “But I…” She cleared her throat. “We cancelled Harrison. I cancelled Harrison. Not permanently, just until you’re better.”

  The blood drained from my face, my jaw loose. “You did?”

  “Yeah.” Her eyes twinkled. “Not just for you, of course.” She tutted loudly, but it was in fun. “I’m planning on staying on at the office, after the internship. I think I might specialise in marketing. I’m enjoying it.”

  I’d forgotten all about the internship. It felt so far away.

  “That means a lot,” I said. “About Harrison. I really wanted…”

  “I know,” she said. “It’s my dream, too.”

  I felt choked up and awkward. “You must be busy, with all that at work and looking after Samson... a lot on your plate…”

  “A little, but I have people to help, too. I can’t take all the credit.”

  I smiled. “I’ll find him another yard, get out of your hair as soon as I’m back in action enough to sort something out.”

  She tickled his nose, but her eyes were on mine. “Won’t exactly have to look hard,” she giggled.

  I stared at her. “Sorry?”

  She looked at me so strangely, as though I’d taken some kind of knock to the head. “Woolhope…” she said. “Surely he’ll be going back to Woolhope? Eventually, I mean, he can stay here as long as you want.”
<
br />   I took a breath. Prepared myself to say it. “The yard’s been repossessed. Up for sale.” It still pained. “He won’t be going back there.”

  She looked confused, properly, seriously confused. And then a smile crept across her face. “You don’t know, do you? Fucking hell, you genuinely don’t know.”

  “Don’t know what?”

  “It’s a great place, by the way, loads of potential. I see why you wanted it so much, I see why it was your dream.” She sighed, but she was grinning. “Shit, I really shouldn’t say. I really shouldn’t.”

  I shook my head. “Sorry? I don’t…” And then it dawned. Of course it did.

  But I daren’t even.

  “Carl,” I said, and I was already looking around for him. “Are you telling me Carl bought the yard?” And I knew. Of course he did. Of course he bought the yard. “My God… oh my God…”

  I was reeling. Part euphoric, part giddy at the thought, part scared, overwhelmed. Angry that he’d done it.

  But so grateful I could hardly take a breath.

  I wheeled myself back towards the car, my fingers tingling and my heart pounding, but Verity jumped in front of me. “Wait,” she said. “It wasn’t…”

  “What?” I said. “Is it mine, or not? I just don’t…” I took a breath. “I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to do…”

  “Oh, it’s yours,” she said, and her eyes were bright and happy. “Only it wasn’t Carl who bought it for you. It was Dad.”

  Life is so weird.

  So good and so bad all at once.

  Verity was right about the yard. It was mine. Signed, sealed, and delivered.

  “I was going to tell you,” Carl said. “I would have bought it myself, but your father wouldn’t budge on it.” He paused. “I wanted to let him tell you, when you were ready to hear it. Ready to see him.”

  “But why? How did he?” I stared, and he met my eyes, just one short glance before he pulled the car onto the main road, and I knew. “How much did you tell him?”

  “Enough.”

  “I see.” I smiled. “Did you tell him about my cruddy music taste? About my silly rabbit slippers?”

  “Oh yes,” he said. “I told him the lot. I told him how you eat your eggs in the morning, how you’ll only watch horror if you can watch kids’ TV straight after, how you insist on leaping three stairs at a time when you’re in a rush in the morning.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “You will again. You’ve just got to believe it.” He reached out for my hand. “Oh, and I told him how you read the backs of shampoo bottles when you’re about to take a dump.”

  “You didn’t!” I could feel my cheeks burning.

  “No,” he said. “I didn’t, but it would have been funny.”

  “You do know he’s ruined your little get to know Dad plans,” Rick said from the back seat. “He’s already told him everything. There’ll be nothing left to say. Boring.”

  I laughed. “I’ll have to come up with some new material then, won’t I? Keep him on his toes.”

  And I did.

  I did come up with new material. Brand new dreams.

  It was slow. Like roots taking hold under the soil. So slow I didn’t feel them, those dreams growing in my mind.

  Woolhope was there for keeps, whenever I wanted it, Dad made that perfectly clear as he handed over the paperwork.

  I’ve never hugged anyone so awkwardly for so long, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  Jack was staying on to mind the place, keeping the farmhouse and work units on low rent until his business was back on its feet, and the rest of it waited for me, with a bit of livery income from the other horses on the yard.

  It would take some time. A lot of time.

  It took an age before I was even allowed on crutches, and even then I could do virtually nothing, not without spare hands.

  Luckily there was Rick, my constant companion, and actually my stupid Kat-rick thing wasn’t so crazy after all. Rick let me shadow what he was doing, giving me an outlet to replace the marketing internship I’d had to leave behind, and I loved it. I loved working with him, loved throwing ideas around and watching them take shape before my eyes.

  Some of them were shit, and some of them looked so much better in my head than they ever looked in reality, and I know Rick was humouring me through a lot of it. But even so, some of them were alright. Some of my ideas were even good. And I was smiling, enjoying it. Happy.

  Crutches made it easier to see Samson, easier to do everything, especially as my broken leg became more weight-bearing. Ten percent at first, then twenty. Fifty seemed to take an age, and then one day I was back up to full capacity. I could stand.

  Only then I had to learn to walk again, and it was harder than you’d think. So much harder.

  Learning to fuck again came a lot more organically.

  I don’t think my muscles ever let me forget that.

  Even when my leg was still useless, back when I’d be propped up in bed with no inclination to move, even then, in my darkest moments, when everything felt like shit, I still wanted those beautiful guys.

  I couldn’t have them, but I wanted them.

  I just had to make do with watching them have each other.

  Such hardship. Such terrible hardship. Life sure sucks sometimes, right?

  There’s one real thing that struck me most about the whole sorry reality of my accident, through all of it — all the pain and the humiliation of being unable to do anything for myself — those two incredible men didn’t once falter, didn’t once grumble or snap, or call time out.

  They didn’t once look at me as though I was anything less than the girl they’d fallen in love with.

  They didn’t love me any less, they didn’t want me any less.

  And they didn’t take me any less. Not once I was up to it. Slowly, very slowly, but surely.

  And maybe that’s what began to change everything for me.

  We were into winter when I first felt the reluctance to pop my contraceptive pill in the morning. I tossed the thought aside and took it anyway, figured it was a stupid hormonal blip and the urge would pass right by again.

  But it didn’t.

  It really didn’t.

  Maybe it was largely circumstantial. A hole in the timeline of my dreams. An enforced hiatus while I got better and Samson took his pasture rest. I mean, I had no interest in filling my yard with new horses, no interest in replacing Samson with another, even if I could have. My dreams for a riding school were strong, but far away, just for the time being, and maybe that had something to do with the reason I first thought seriously about babies.

  Maybe it had a little to do with my changing relationships with my own family. My own thoughts about family, and how it could have been for me under different circumstances. What life could have been like. What life was becoming like with both a mum and dad I could believe in, without any lies festering under the surface. With a sister and two brothers that I was coming to know just a little, just a tiny bit better every day.

  But mainly I think it had everything to do with Carl and Rick.

  To do with the way they were there for me, the way they loved me, and cared for me, and came through for me when I needed them.

  Maybe it was to do with the way they always put me before themselves, my schedule before their own.

  Maybe it was the way they were so strong. The way Carl had come through for Samson when I couldn’t, stayed at his side when I couldn’t, the way Rick had held my hand so tight in the ambulance and hadn’t let go, not once.

  Maybe it was because Carl’s birthday was looming, and I knew, I knew how much he wanted a family, knew how badly the clock inside was ticking for him. Knew how much it meant to him.

  I’m certain it was to do with the way he held me tight when his birthday finally arrived, told me I meant more than any of it and had done for some time, more than his dream, more than being a dad at forty, and being young enough to enjoy all the t
hings that younger dads do.

  The way he told me we were in it for the long haul, the three of us, baby or no.

  Me before his dream.

  He put me before his dream.

  It made it so easy to want to put him before the tattered remnants of mine.

  But despite all of this, all this pondering, all the reasons that could have contributed to why, I think it was really quite simple when it came down to it.

  I have a body and a heart and a mind, and at least two of the three of those overruled my decision to avoid babies my entire life.

  At least two of those three wanted Carl’s baby. Rick’s, too, and the other part, my stickler of a mind? Well, that came round, too.

  My ovaries began to combust every time they’d walk in the room, every time they’d smile and laugh, and tell me this was it, that we were it. For keeps.

  Forever.

  I’d feel an ache in my belly at the thought of holding their baby in my arms, my baby. Our baby.

  At the thought of being a family of our very own.

  So one day I didn’t pop that contraceptive pill in the morning. I put it right back in the box, and I didn’t take one again.

  I kept an eye on my periods and plotted one of those fertility planners out on my phone, and kept quiet until I was ready to talk about it.

  Until my leg was up to it, to taking them both, at just the right time.

  I slapped Rick’s hand aside as he tried to help me upstairs.

  “I can do it,” I said, and poked my tongue out. “I’m back on my feet now.”

  “Busted,” he said. “It was just an excuse to grab a feel, you know that.”

  “Sure it was.”

  Carl was already in the en suite, already naked for bed, his cock already at half-mast as we stepped into the bedroom. He gave us a smile as he brushed his teeth, and my belly did a weird little flutter. I joined him in the bathroom, and so did Rick, washing up happily in silence as the tension thrummed between us.

  I cast aside my clothes, and raised my leg carefully, examined the fading scar as I did every evening.