by Elle Thorpe
People bustled around, leading horses to stalls, loading others onto trailers to make their way back to their home stables. Some would stay a night or longer and leave when they’d completed their races.
“Low!”
I nodded in greeting to the trainer but tucked my head back down and moved past. People were talking. The bar crew’s concerns about my abrupt change in behaviour hadn’t gone unnoticed by the stable staff. I’d heard their whispered questions about me, asking where I’d been last week and if it had anything to do with ‘the new bar girl.’
I couldn’t remember ever going a week without flirting or chatting up customers at the bar. I’d stopped participating in conversations, and I don’t think I’d laughed since I’d been back from my week off. Normally I would have stopped to chat with almost everyone in the outer areas of the racecourse, asking them about whichever horse they had running. But I’d been on autopilot ever since I’d gotten that text.
I hadn’t even told Jamison, who’d been my best friend since I’d come back to Sydney years ago. I’d tried to find the words, tried to find a time to tell him, but something always stopped me. I didn’t want to worry him and burden him with problems I’d created for myself. My doctor had encouraged me to tell someone, to get myself a support team while we waited for news. But how did I even begin, when I could barely wrap my own head around it all? The doctor had been kind and patient, explaining the procedure in simple terms that my shell-shocked brain had still struggled to comprehend. After a while, he’d taken pity on me, handed over a stack of pamphlets, and told me to make an appointment with the specialist in three months.
My grandparents would freak out if they knew. They’d already lived through enough drama with my mother over the years. I couldn’t tell them I was just as bad, in my own way. Which only left Jamison to tell. But talking wasn’t going to help anything anyway. What was done was done.
I was alone in this.
The stables loomed ahead of me. They homed close to a hundred horses when the big races ran. I let myself into the quiet interior. The only noises, the soft whickering and snorting of the horses as I passed their stalls. The air was cool, and the light dim. No one had bothered to turn on the artificial lights yet, so only the last of the sunlight trickling through the windows lit the cavernous building.
My pace increased as I neared Lijah’s stall. She stuck her giant head over the top of the doors as I approached. My shoulders relaxed as I reached to touch her. “Hey, girl.” I spoke as if in church. Speaking any louder than quiet conversation was never a good idea around a lot of horses, but something about coming in here felt almost religious. It was a place my soul always felt at ease. My troubles were always a little lighter as I stroked the neck of a horse. I stepped close to the door, unlocking it to let Lijah out. She turned her head to nuzzle at my shirt pocket. The corners of my mouth lifted, and I was surprised to find I remembered how to smile. I pulled out one of the apples I’d swiped on my way in and gave it to her, smiling as she chewed through it with ease.
“You like those, huh, girl?” I smoothed my hand along her coat and leant in against her, resting my head on her mane. My confession tumbled from my lips. “I fucked things up this time, Lijah. And I have no idea how to fix it.” I let out a shaky breath. Her apple gone, Lijah stood still, letting me draw comfort from her. The tension across my shoulders eased. I needed comfort today.
The rattle of the lock as someone opened the stable door let me know I wasn’t alone. My breath hitched as that ever-present tension flared to life once more.
Reese.
I knew it before I looked up to confirm it. What was she doing out here? My heart raced, excitement coursing through me at her nearness, then dropped just as quick when I realised she’d spotted me and was trying to get back out the door.
I should let her go.
“You don’t have to go, Reese.” My mouth was clearly not taking commands from my brain today.
How was my voice so calm? On the inside, I was anything but.
I looked around for a brush, a comb, a feed bag—anything so I’d have something to do while she made her decision. She was still hovering in the doorway.
Stay. Just stay, Reese.
The words burned on my tongue, but I bit down to stop myself from voicing them. My brain yelled that I was an idiot, and I should go grab her hand, lace our fingers together, and lead her in from the door. Judging by how long she stood there for, she was as confused as I was.
“It’s okay. I didn’t realise you were here. I shouldn’t be back here anyway.” Her gaze darted around as if the horse police were going to jump out at any minute. Or maybe she just didn’t want to look at me.
“You can be back here if you’re with me. No one will stop you.” I went back to brushing Lijah’s coat, so my hands had something to do. She tossed her head, whinnying, probably sensing my nerves.
Reese would run, I could tell without even looking at her. Out here, in my quiet place, I felt different than I had for the past two weeks. I felt more like me. The me I wanted her to know.
“Please stay.” I forced the words from my lips. “Do you want to come meet Lijah?”
9
Reese
Well, blow me down. Low had manners. And he’d invited me to meet the most beautiful chestnut mare I’d ever seen. Her reddish-brown coat gleamed in the waning afternoon light, her intelligent eyes trained on Low. My anger was still there, simmering away, but he seemed different, and it made me pause.
Everything about Low’s posture had changed in the short time he’d been gone from the bar. His shoulders had lost the tight tension that had been plaguing him all day, and with his shirt sleeves rolled up and his tie sticking out of his pocket, he looked casual and relaxed. And hot. So much hotter than Asshole Low. This new, quiet side of him that seemed to love horses intrigued me.
I nodded and walked down the aisle, my footsteps tentative. He hadn’t heard me come through the doors at first. I’d watched him as he’d held the horse’s head and after a moment, stepped in closer to her. Such a quiet, tender moment between the man and the animal, it was like watching something sacred. Something not meant for me to witness. That quiet peace you got as time seemed to stand still was as familiar to me as breathing. It was the reason I’d sneaked in to see Mabel every day since I’d moved here.
The desire to walk away from Low was still strong. I didn’t want to get into yet another argument with him; we’d already had too many of those in the short time we’d known each other. But I wasn’t going to try to make up with him either. That was on him.
“She’s amazing.” I reached up to pat the horse’s velvety nose. She sniffed at my hand, quickly losing interest in favour of Low’s, which held treats.
“Here. Want to give her some?” He passed me a few chunks of apple. “She loves apple, this one.”
I held my hand out flat under Lijah’s nose, smiling at the familiar rasp of horse lips over my palm.
Low shifted his weight, his arm brushing against mine. “Listen, I wanted to say this to you tomorrow anyway, but since you’re here…I owe you an apology.”
I snorted. Yeah, he did. A mighty big one.
When I lifted my head, his eyes sought mine, the honesty in his gaze pure. I crossed my arms over my chest but let the frown slip from my face. “Okay, I’m listening.”
“I just… I have stuff going on that I’m not dealing with well. Stuff I’m not dealing with at all if I’m being truthful.”
He kept on stroking Lijah’s neck, but he didn’t look away. He seemed sad, the corners of his eyes downturned. “It’s no excuse for the way I’ve been acting towards you, though. I…well, I guess don’t really know how to deal with you either.”
My brow wrinkled, and I sighed. It wasn’t exactly the greatest apology, but at least he was trying.
He shook his head and squeezed my upper arm. The heat from his hand radiated through my thin work blouse. “I’m stuffing this up. I can tell by t
he look on your face.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I really am sorry. I’m not always such an asshole. The way I yelled at you in the club the other night…that’s not me. I don’t do things like that.”
He sounded tired and resigned. But he sounded sincere. He held my arm in a gentle grip, and I tried not to focus on how much I liked it. I wanted to accept his apology. Maybe he didn’t deserve to be let off the hook so easily, but he looked like someone had kicked his puppy, and I didn’t want to add to the weight I saw piled on his shoulders. He wasn’t the only one who didn’t know how to deal with their problems. I could relate to that. Plus, I didn’t do grudges well, and I just wanted to go back to being friends. I was sick of the drama.
“Okay.”
“Okay? That’s it?”
“Would you prefer I don’t forgive you?”
“No, of course not.”
“Well, accept my okay then. It’s the best you’ll get for now.” I gave him a little grin before Lijah lurched forward, thrusting her head between us.
“Sorry, Lijah, did we stop paying attention to you?” I laughed, as I fed her the last of the apple. I was relieved at the break in the tension. But I needed to say one more thing to him, because I was a prime example of why bottling things up was a shitty idea.
“Listen, Low, I don’t know what’s eating at you, or what you’re dealing with, but I can see your friends are worried about you. They want to help you with whatever is going on, and if you want to spill to them, awesome. But if you need to talk to someone you aren’t close with, I’m here.”
His eyebrows rose, but I continued before he could cut me off.
“I went through some of my own stuff last year, and I didn’t talk to anyone about it. I was too ashamed to talk to my friends. I didn’t want their pity or their judgement or whatever else their reaction might have been. I know all about pushing people away. I wrote the book on it.” I looked away from him, his gaze too intense.
“I’m just saying, sometimes it’s easier to talk to someone you haven’t got a history with. And I’m here. Use me.” A blush rose in my cheeks at the memory of the way we’d used each other in the alleyway. That was a bad choice of words. I hoped he didn’t think I’d meant it like that.
But all I saw in his expression was an echo of my own old hurt. Something was eating this man alive. I didn’t dare move. I’d meant what I’d said. I wanted him to confide in me. Truthfully, part of it was I wanted to know why he’d ditched me in that alleyway, and why he’d reacted so aggressively at the club. Why we’d gone from the beginning of a flirty friendship to these awkward silences, unable to even look at each other. I didn’t understand any of it. But a bigger part of me wanted to help him. I wanted to spare him some of the pain I’d felt, if I could. Our problems may not have been the same, but I understood pain and could recognise it in others. The silence hung in the air between us.
“So, you like horses?” He quietly changed the subject. I wasn’t disappointed. I wanted to help, but I respected his need to keep it to himself for now.
“Very much so.” I nodded. “It’s the whole reason I applied for this job. The thought of being around horses all day, even if from the distance of the bar, was too good to pass up. You too, I guess? Lijah here seems to like you.”
“Lijah is my buddy. She knows all my secrets.”
“Does she? How long have you been sneaking out here to have deep and meaningful conversations with her?” I joked.
“Well, Lijah is only two years old, but I think I was nine the first time I snuck out here.”
“You’ve been coming here since you were nine? How’s that?”
“My grandparents own this racetrack.”
My mouth dropped open. “They own this whole thing?” Well, that tidbit of information brought up a lot of questions. And answered a few others.
“Yeah. The whole thing. The track and the breeding farm on the other side. Though they aren’t involved in the day to day running like they used to be.” He tilted his head. “Do you want to come sit down? I have to clean Lijah’s tack and I can’t do it standing here.”
I nodded and we sat on the hay bales beneath the window, the straw sticking into my calves, its scratch familiar. I couldn’t count how many times I’d cleaned my own tack sitting on a bale just like this one. Though the stables I’d been sitting in were a lot less fancy than this.
“So how is it you’re the grandson of some obviously wealthy people, but you’re cleaning your own tack? And working at the bar? Wouldn’t they give you a more glamorous job?” I tucked my hands under my knees and kicked at some straw on the floor. It was difficult to sit this close to him. My fingers itched to reach out and touch him, and just thinking of touching him stirred parts of me that really needed to be kept in line. We obviously didn’t work in a sexual way. We’d tried that twice, and both times had ended in me being humiliated. But maybe, if we could keep our attraction in check, we could be friends. God knows I needed a friend.
He smiled. I liked this smile, from this version of Low. It wasn’t the arrogant, flirty smile I’d gotten the first day we’d met. And it wasn’t the forced smiles I’d seen from him in the last few days. It was natural. Casual. A ‘we’re friends’ smile, the kind you didn’t have to think about. I wanted to see more of them from him.
“Somewhere a bit more glamorous would have been nice, but my grandparents are hard-working people. They built all this from nothing. They wanted me to learn every aspect of the business, and I agree. Plus”—he grinned at me, with just a hint of flirty Low shining through—“I like the opportunity to meet pretty girls every day.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “I bet you do. Your grandparents have probably been begging you to move on to a new position, but you want to stay for the free perv.”
He chuckled. “There might be some truth in that.”
I liked his laugh, even better than his smile. “So is Lijah yours then?”
“Yep, sure is. Her dam was a birthday present from my grandparents when I was a kid. Lijah here is her most promising filly, and secretly, she’s my favourite. She’s running in the races later this week.”
I sat up straighter. “Yeah? That’s exciting.”
Low’s expression became animated. “Yeah, I can’t wait. Her trainer has been great with her. We think she should do okay, but you’re never 100 percent sure until they’re out there.” He paused, examining a non-existent spot on his saddle. “This is what I’d like to be doing one day, you know?”
“Cleaning saddles? Not hugely ambitious, are you?”
“Smart-ass. I meant working more with the horses. Training them.”
“Why one day? What’s stopping you from doing it now? Surely the hook-ups from the bar aren’t that appealing?” Working in the bar, while knowing you could be out here where the action was didn’t compute with me at all.
He shrugged. “I need to earn it. I meant what I said about learning each aspect of the business, but the more I see of it, the more I’m sure my heart is here. In the stables, in the training yards. But I don’t have the experience yet. I don’t want to be just the grandson of the owners. I want the respect that only comes with paying your dues.”
My chest tightened. He was so lucky to have all this. To be around these beautiful animals. To have opportunities and a career with them, one that would fulfil him. One that he wouldn’t have to walk away from. I tried to push my surge of jealousy aside. “Haven’t you been coming here all your life? That must make you more experienced than most.”
He sighed and scrubbed harder at the imaginary spot he seemed determine to remove. I saw him wrestling with his thoughts and didn’t push him. He’d tell me what was on his mind if he wanted to. Or he wouldn’t. But I’d said he could talk to me about anything and I wanted to prove it.
So I waited. Eventually he looked up, letting out a long breath. “My mother is a junkie. She could never hold down a steady job, when she could even be bothered working, so we moved around a lot. W
e couch-surfed her junkie friends’ places, or slept in her car when things got really bad.” He started scrubbing again. “Every now and then, I guess when she got desperate, she’d dump me at my grandparents’ place.”
He smiled wistfully at me. “I loved when that happened. My grandparents are so kind and generous. It astounds me how someone as messed up as my mother came from them.”
His smile quickly fell, though, disgust creeping into his voice as he continued. “So right before I turned ten, my mother dumped me at my grandparents’ farm, then disappeared. This wasn’t unusual, she did it often enough.” He laughed, but it sounded forced and his smile didn’t meet his eyes. “Having a kid around is inconvenient when you only live for your next high.”
I nodded, not wanting to interrupt him. A lump was forming in my throat, so I doubted I could have found the words anyway.
“By the time my birthday rolled around, she’d been gone six months—the longest time we’d ever not heard from her. My grandparents tried to shelter me from it. But I knew they thought she’d overdosed somewhere. I’d overhear them on the phone to the hospital, and the police came to our house once or twice to talk to them.”
Low glanced up at me and I tried to keep my reaction from showing on my face. “You know what, though? I didn’t even care. For the first time I was going to school regularly, and I’d made friends. I loved living with my grandparents. There was always food for dinner, and I had my own bedroom. And they had horses. The day they gave me my first horse was the best day of my life.” The happy memory lit him up from the inside. I wondered if that was how I looked when I spoke about horses as well.
“That was Lijah’s dam?”
He nodded, but then his face clouded over. “I’d had her for a week, when my mother resurfaced. She came to my school and picked me up early one day. Said we’d go out for ice cream and then she’d take me back to my grandparents. I wasn’t excited to see her, but I wanted to leave school early. And I wanted ice cream. I would have gone with anyone who’d promised me an ice cream.”
