Impulsion

by Jamie Magee

  That was the image that Harley saw when she came up behind Collin. The second he heard her gasp, he shut his computer.

  “What are you doing?” she breathed as her chest rose and fell violently.

  Harley had lain in bed all night, feeling mortified for having the worst sex on the planet with Collin. She did everything in her power to be in that moment with him, but the alcohol and what was left of her broken heart kept flashing her back to the first boy that held her.

  She could not wrap her head around how one act could feel so differently from partner to partner. She’d told herself it could not be that hard. Wyatt had told her he hated Dorcas, that she was gross, but he went down that road with her. She’d never call Collin gross or dare to hate him; there was some kind of love there, some kind of bond. He had protected her over and over from her mother, given her space. He was a logical choice. She should be thrilled that she had managed to find the only non-asshole in her world.

  Then there that image was, right in her face. She was weighed down by her past, and Wyatt looked as if he were in Heaven. That hurt so bad that it made her angry. At herself. There was too much time between them now, a lot of time for him to come to his senses about Dorcas, to call her or something. Harley was pretty positive that girl kissing her cheek was not Dorcas, which meant he did come to his senses about her and had moved on to the next girl.

  Harley needed to get over him. She had no choice.

  “I just thought—Harley, you love him,” Collin said.

  “It can be better between us,” she said as she flushed.

  “It can be the same, too,” he said, moving closer to her, wrapping his arms around her. He pulled her to his chest and swayed her, feeling how tense she was.

  All in all, over the months they tried three times more to hold one another. Harley didn’t cry, but she wasn’t there. She was the one that told Collin he was right. They sat up all night in his apartment in New York, talking through it all.

  “Every day you’re away from your mother, you get a little stronger. But the second she calls you, the second you see her, you fall back again. We have to get you away from her more. I think if that happens, you’re going to figure out who you are, what you want. Until you do…you’re not going to be able to connect with anyone or anything.”

  Harley nodded to agree.

  The next day, Collin asked her to move in with him; it was his way of keeping her safe. That started rumors in their social circles, in their families, but he told her they would deal with them later.

  Living with Collin was easy. He was never there, in general. He was always at school or his father’s firm, if not out with his friends. When they were in the same town, they did share that bed, not because they were still lovers but because it was the only one in the luxurious studio.

  Collin was Harley’s ambassador to her mother. He was the one that told her what Harley was doing, the plans she had, and he always did it with charm, with a classic smile in front of several so her mother had no choice but to play into it.

  That was why Harley was able to take a semester off from school, why she had flown down to train with Danny Boy that entire time, without any grief from her mother. All of that was presented to Claire Tatum by Collin as if it were his idea.

  Collin even went out of his way to fly down to Florida just to keep up the fallacy.

  “How’d last night go?” Harley asked him as she padded her way into the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee.

  Collin grinned up at her, still in his clothes from the night before, with that ‘just fucked’ look all over his face.

  “That good, huh?” Harley said with a smirk.

  “We might go out again.”

  Harley’s only condition to allowing Collin to take all this time and effort to defend her was that he didn’t pause his love life. She wanted to make sure he was not playing the role of the best friend and waiting for her to come around.

  He never had any serious relationships. For one, school and his building career took a lot of his time; two, he never found anyone he cared to see more than a few times; and most of all, he was trying to protect Harley’s reputation. Their society would eat up that gossip, Collin stepping out on Harley.

  Almost ten months ago, when he’d come down with Harley to meet the trainer before shipping Danny Boy, he met a girl, Quinn. Her family had a home in Wellington, but she went to school in Boston. She wasn’t in the world of Harley and Collin, but at the same time, as brilliant as she was there was little to no doubt one day she would be there, if not close.

  Harley knew it was getting serious, at least taking root, because each time after he went out with her, he’d give that same comment, that same smile. The girls before her, he’d just shake his head and ask Harley about her day.

  “Did you get everything packed yesterday?” he asked.

  Harley was taking Danny Boy home again. He wasn’t really progressing anymore in Wellington, and Harley didn’t want him that far away from her when she went back home. Her hiatus was almost over. Her mother had made more than one random remark, with Collin’s mother backing her, that the only reason for Harley to take more time off from school after this upcoming summer would be to plan a wedding.

  Basically, Collin and Harley had backed themselves into a corner. They were sure they could stall for a while. Even if they mocked an engagement, they could get out of it, but to get out of it there would have to be some family drama, some hell.

  Collin wouldn’t really care either way - he liked driving his mother mad - but he wasn’t sure how Harley would make out. Her dad was an old man that had lived a long life, and old men that have bad hearts leave this world. He knew that, had told Harley that a million times. But he also knew that if they staged some break up and her father happened to pass away within any time frame after that, Harley would carry that blame. Always the martyr.

  Before Quinn came along, knowing the pair of them they would have stayed engaged for years, maybe to the point where her father did pass away.

  Now it just felt wrong to Harley.

  Quinn found what Collin and Harley were doing hilarious, even gave them lines to say now and again. Those lines seemed to do nothing but encourage their family to the point where they had all but told Collin to propose.

  Their grand plan now was for them to spend time apart, make it seem like they were silently breaking up to those around them. That’s how they became a public couple, so it seemed fitting for them to fall apart that way, to call the friend card out for their family.

  This separation was going to come from Harley transporting Danny Boy herself up to New York. Collin had plotted her course, found a friend that she knew every few hours, just over six hours being the most she would have to drive, and that was only for two stretches. Each stop, she was going to lay over for at least a day, at a few facilities, for almost a week.

  When she did get home, she was going to stay at her family home and ride with a new trainer for almost two months. Her mother was overseas with Collin’s, so Harley would not have to be at the same address with her.

  This plan would carry them right up until a few days before her father’s eightieth birthday celebration.

  Collin’s mother told her son that celebration was a virtual world stage, among other hints that said she was all but demanding he propose that day. Collin and Harley thought if they spent this time apart, they could pull the ‘we’re growing apart, we need to rekindle our love affair before we embark on an engagement’ just before the party. Collin was all for rocking his mother’s boat; the only hold back was not rocking Garrison Tatum’s too hard.

  Harley was good with the plan but told him that her mother would tell her that her father deserved to see her settled and happy. She would guilt them into this; she knew she would.

  Collin only smirked and said under his breath, “That is the end goal.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want anyone to ride with you?” Collin asked her.

  Ha
rley shook her head. The trainer here was in love with Danny Boy, downright ticked that Harley was taking him home. She’d said that Harley was not qualified to haul him, that she should ride with Harley.

  Collin made sure Harley’s rig was equipped with every safety measure known to man. She even had cameras to watch Danny Boy. He’d mapped out every place for her to stop and fuel, every detour she could take. Anything and everything was thought of. Harley needed this time, this independence, Collin knew that and told that trainer to pretty much go to hell.

  He was only questioning the point now because every once in a while he would still see the scared little girl he knew as a boy, the one he would try to make laugh when they were both stuck in monkey suits. Those glimpses made her look fragile, and he knew she wasn’t, not deep down. Harley’s only problem was that she always knew what she wanted but never knew how to clasp it, her hesitation…that was her downfall, it allowed doubt to threaten her.

  In Collin’s eyes, when she looked the strongest, undefeatable, was when she rode. Every horse gave her that outlook, but Danny Boy capitalized it; that horse had nothing but power, and Harley controlled it, made it look it graceful.

  “Let’s get the big boy loaded, then,” Collin said as he slid back from the kitchen bar, then gathered the last small bags Harley had set by the door.

  Danny Boy hated the trailer, knew that every time he loaded it would be hours before he got off.

  “There is nothing Clandestine about that one,” Collin quipped as he reached up and rubbed Danny Boy’s nose through the open side window.

  “He’s just spent too many hours of his life being transported,” Harley defended, and that was true.

  Collin pulled Harley to him, landed a kiss on her forehead, then led her to the driver’s seat. “Bluetooth and GPS are on. Just relax and drive, say what you need, and the truck will give you an answer.”

  She laughed at that, and he caught the irony. “Okay, so it will tell you what direction to go, answer the phone, and change your music at least.”

  “I’ll call you when I stop,” she said, hugging him once more.

  She climbed in and pulled away, taking a deep breath. Just about everything she owned was on this rig, at least what she cared to claim. For the first time in her life, at that moment she felt like she had freedom. Freedom to vanish, if only for a moment.

  Her first layover was the longest distance in the entire journey, planned that way because she would be the freshest. She stayed a day with her friend, or acquaintance rather, named Anna, let Danny Boy graze, then pulled out the next day.

  Not long after she left, a few hours, she had to detour, at least her GPS had said so; there was some kind of lane blockage ahead. It irritated her when she figured out the highways it sent her down were taking her three hours out of her way, that she now had at least an eight hour drive before her. That irritation faded, and panic set in later when she realized how close this jaunt would take her to Willowhaven.

  That last flight home from Willowhaven, in her mind, she saw Wyatt pulling Dorcas into his arms, saw him betraying the memory of them. What burned more than anything was seeing those pictures online afterwards, the ones that told her that he had really moved on.

  Harley had even gotten brave enough to look up Ava online. She still had insanely vivid dreams of Wyatt, still jolted out of her bed in the middle of the night. A few times, when the memory was pure agony, she’d look up Ava, or even Truman online. She’d tell herself she was just going to glance so that she could see he had forgotten she existed. She’d clicked away as soon as she saw Wyatt’s smile, the room full of people around him, girls leaning on him. That harsh reality check would numb the pain, make it easier to go through the motions of life.

  Backbone. She chanted that to herself as she passed all the signs telling her that the city of Willowhaven was nearing, held her breath as she passed the exit. Her body was tense, but she told herself she’d made it and wondered how many miles she could make it before that memory left her.

  Not long, it seemed.

  Her day was getting worse. She was now not only detoured, but outrunning a line of storms. The wind was insane, forcing her to focus.

  Harley’s hands were gripped on the steering wheel, but she was glancing to the GPS, to the camera monitor. Through the camera in the truck, she could see Danny Boy pawing.

  It’s like he knows, she thought. He knows we just passed the only place they had ever fit, that they had ever been real.

  She glanced up when she heard the screech of tires, saw the truck in front of her overcorrect, tires spilling from its load. She ran over one before she could think to stop, felt the trailer run over the tire, then another slide under the truck. Everything was a blur after that point.

  ***

  Wyatt was at the pool table, managing to kick Easton’s ass for once at this game. It had been a slow day, a slow week. All of the guys were starting to get a little stir crazy, so the sound of the screeching firehouse alarm was a welcome call, one that snapped life into action. The pool sticks were dropped immediately, and they all raced to their gear.

  Wyatt had read the call just before he soared the engine forward.

  “Daddy-o, give my mom a call. This says a horse trailer tipped on the Northbound,” Wyatt said to Easton, knowing there was a good chance that whoever this was would need transportation for their load off the side of the road.

  “Call Doc Davis, too,” Memphis said from the passenger seat.

  Everyone listened to the radio, trying to figure out if they knew whose rig it was. They were sure they didn’t.

  Wyatt’s heart was pumping, all of theirs was; that was normal on a call. Being raised on a farm, knowing there was more than people that could be hurt made Wyatt’s pump twice as hard.

  When they arrived, there were a few cruisers already there. There was a commercial truck on its side, tires everywhere; another car was caught behind it. The horse rig looked like it took most of the damage, the crew cab truck that was on its side.

  “I’m pretty sure the trailer nearly flipped to its side, then back. The truck is flipped. The one that caused it is in the ditch up ahead,” the officer said to Memphis.

  “Injuries?” Memphis demanded. At the moment, he had command of the scene. He nodded for Easton and Truman to go to the pick up truck. They could give any medical aid needed without drugs until the ambulance got there, and they had to figure out what they needed to do to get the passenger out.

  The officer recounted what they knew as Memphis nodded for Wyatt to check out the trailer.

  Wyatt dropped the trailer gate and eased in. The partitions inside had fallen down; Wyatt had no doubt this trailer nearly flipped. He lifted the metal that was leaning into the massive horse.

  “Easy now, big boy,” Wyatt said as he pulled out his flashlight. He could see gashes on the legs, a few cuts on its back and side, but the horse was standing, daring to rear up; that was a good sign.

  As soon as Wyatt had spoken, the horse stilled, huffed out a breath. His mother had called him a horse whisperer more than once, but it was odd that the horse mellowed that fast. Wyatt started to look him over, thinking his first assessment was way off. All at once, he recognized this horse.

  He moved his hands all over him, and Danny Boy kicked back. Right then, a sick thought hit him. He charged out the side of the trailer to yell at Easton and the others that this was Danny Boy, but as soon as he did he saw Eaton looking back at him, along with Truman; the grave looks on their faces knocked the wind out of Wyatt.

  Wyatt charged forward, feeling Memphis grasp him from behind, other guys from the squad holding him back. They might as well have been paper dolls; he plowed right through them, dove across the glass on the pavement.

  It was Harley. She was still fastened in her belt. The air bag had deployed, and there was a gash on her forehead, red burns from the power of the air bag. She was unconscious. Easton had been giving her oxygen. Wyatt moved further in, let his shaki
ng hand move across her face, feeling the burn in his eyes. There was no worse nightmare than showing up to a scene where someone you loved was hurt.

  Harley was having the best dream of her life. Everything was so real. She was back at Willowhaven, riding Danny Boy. She could smell the fields, the scent of hay and horses. She saw Wyatt’s eyes smile at her as she rode by him, felt the blanket of him wash over her, could smell his cologne.

  All at once, he looked right at her and said, “You’re safe.”

  Her eyes flew open then. She breathed in, then ripped the mask from her face. She was sure she was still dreaming. He was right there, an inch from her, his piercing blue eyes moving across her face. Like any dream she had before, she leaned up and took his lips with hers.

  Only this time, she felt warmth; this time, she felt his breath on her skin, felt the force behind his lips. Impulsion.

  She couldn’t figure out why he was holding her in place, why he would not let her move her neck, move at all.

  It wasn’t until he broke away, until she heard him say, “You’re safe,” once again that the idea came to her that this wasn’t a dream.

  Wyatt backed out of sight, and a girl appeared, asking her what her name was, what day of the week it was, a million stupid questions, questions that she couldn’t answer because she was still trying to figure out how much was real, what had even happened.

  “Backboard!” the girl yelled.

  She vanished from sight, then Wyatt appeared again. She did her best to focus on him, on his uniform, as she felt herself cut loose from the seat belt, being gently pulled from the cab with a board strapped to her back, a brace around her neck.

  Wyatt stayed at her side, holding her hand.

  “Danny Boy,” she rasped.

  “We’re helping him, too,” Wyatt said, squeezing her hand. She saw Easton’s face flash by, Truman’s, even Memphis’. She was sure she had drifted into some kind of insanity. Some alternate reality.

  The paramedic did something, and whatever it was made Harley drift. Her mind was insane, caught somewhere between the past and the present. She kept seeing herself trying to explain what she wanted to Wyatt, to her father, but no words could come. Through all of that, all she could hear was the screech of tires, the horrified neigh of Danny Boy.