He shakes his head and makes his way to my side. “I came right back. I know how you get.” He opens the stall and we stand side by side in the big box stall. “He’s a good looking little guy.”
I nod as he strokes Jenny’s neck. Kyle has been the vet we’ve had on call for the last four years. He’d been fresh out of vet school, but dad trusted him. Something about his face, his love of animals, and that even the elusive barn cats liked him made him someone dad liked.
“You’re looking pale,” he says to me, and my heart stops. My face blazes red hot and I stare at the colt.
“Uh, yeah. Long nights, you know, waiting on this little guy. I’ll get some good sleep now.” The lie slips off my tongue, and I duck my face in shame. But it’s too embarrassing to tell him that I don’t take good care of myself, that I haven’t had a decent meal in months, that with dad gone, I find it hard to even find the point of getting out of bed some mornings.
But depression is normal after losing a loved one. It’s no body’s worry but my own. I’m not going to pile my problems on someone just for expressing concern. Tears sting in my eyes and I hear Kyle’s apology in his words.
“That was out of line, I’m sorry.” He peeks at Jenny’s teeth, then begins to fuss over her, and I take the moment of quiet to compose myself.
With a quick sniff to hide the tears, I stuff my hands in my back pockets. “No worries. Just new addition stress, you know?”
He nods without looking at me, and I breathe a quick sigh of relief and watch the new foal’s wobbly legs. “I’m going to go make a few phone calls, okay?”
“No problem,” he says, “I’ll stop in before I leave, okay?”
I agree and escape the mare box. Making a beeline for the house, I don’t stop until I’m locked in the bathroom. Splashing cold water on my face, I stare at the sink. It’s heart wrenching that well-meaning words are enough to destroy me like that. Crying in front of the vet? I feel like an idiot.
Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice.
“It gets easier,” I whisper to myself in the mirror. I have to believe that. I have to. It’s the only thing that keeps me going some days. It’ll get easier. Gripping the edges of the sink so tightly I feel my knuckles begin to ache, I stare at myself and focus on taking deep, cleansing, calming breaths.
Everything will be okay.
I’ll be okay.
Once my heart has returned to a more reasonable rate, I decide to take a break and make myself some lunch. Chores can wait for a little while. I won’t be any good to anything for anything if I don’t stop and take care of myself.
Walking through the kitchen, I realize I haven’t gone shopping in a while. So I settle on making myself some spaghetti. A knock at the door prompts me to call out.
“Come in!”
I set the pan of water on the stove and dump in the noodles as Kyle comes into the kitchen.
“Everything seems good,” he says, leaning on the door frame.
“Thank you. I know I stress too easily,” I say, turning to lean against the counter. His gaze meets mine, but I look away.
“Your dad would be proud,” he says, and I feel my throat close up.
Miserable, I force out a thank you that I don’t feel. I doubt I’m fooling him for even a second.
To my surprise, he closes the gap between us and pulls me into a hug. Part of me wants to pull back, but my arms wind around his shoulders and I cling to him, the tears rolling down my cheeks.
After a moment, I back off, feeling awkward. “What do I owe you?” I ask, needing to remind him - and myself - that he’s here on business.
“Nothing.” He steps back. “I’ll see you in a few weeks to check up on the new little guy, okay?” he says, his tone gentle and not pushy.
“Thank you,” I say, making a mental note to pay him after he leaves. I’m not going to let him wiggle into a position either of us might regret. He’s a good looking guy, he’s about my age, but he’s also the only vet in spitting distance. I’m not about to fuck things up by getting personal – well, any more personal – or letting him get to a place where he feels like I’m taking advantage of him.
In any other situation, I’d be taking him up on his silent offer for comfort. But he’s the vet. I need to keep things professional. My animal’s lives might depend on it in the future.
“Have a great day,” he says, “call me if you need anything.”
Unable to speak, I merely nod.
“Emma,” he says, and I look up at him. His blue eyes are crystal bright and his dark lashes striking in the narrow beam of sunshine lighting him up. “I meant it. Your dad would be proud.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, the words feeling like sandpaper on my throat.
With that, he leaves, and I stare after him until the water boils over.
Chapter 7
Kieran
I open the door and feel his presence before I see him sitting on the bench beside the front door. “What are you doing here, Connor?” I ask, annoyed at his refusal to take a damned hint.
“You’re not answering my calls, mom’s asking after you, and we need to talk.” Connor’s wound up tighter than a tinker toy, and I want to turn him the other direction so he’ll click-clack right off my porch.
“I’m a busy man.” It’s not a lie. But the look on his face as he glares up at me is enough to run my blood cold. There’s an icy fury in him blazing white hot. He blames me for everything. And maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s all my fault.
“What do you want?” I ask, tired of all the drama and long-buried hatred.
He stands, straightening up all six feet four inches of his height. Eye to eye, toe to toe, we stand. Staring one another down like rival wolves, we stand silent. “Call your fucking mother,” he growls, the sneer on his lips telling me exactly what he thinks of me.
He moves in closer until only inches separate us. “You’re not too damn busy for her. Pull your head out of your ass and remember where you came from. Who you came from.”
A cold, hard smile tugs the corners of my lips. “Fuck you, Connor. Get the hell off my porch.”
He doesn’t move, though, and I cross my arms waiting for him to man up and walk the hell away. Connor’s not a fighter. Our youngest brother is the one more likely to throw a wicked right hook. But he’s not here right now.
“You won’t stop until you kill her too, will you?” Connor asks, his ice blue eyes freezing over.
And I break. Blinking, I look away from him and toward the front door, praying Olivia is up in her room, far away from the conversation taking place here. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say finally, my gaze flicking back to Connor.
He nods his head, a mocking expression on his face. “Of course. Nothing is ever your fault, right? Perfect fucking Kieran Knight. Hey, I think I saw a bench in town without your face on it. Should I send the location to your PR department so they can fix it?”
I’m tired of this fight. He’s my brother. My blood. My family. We weren’t always at each other’s throats like this. We were best friends as kids. We hid from dad’s rage fueled episodes together. We stood up to him and protected mom from him together. We took beatings so she and our youngest brother wouldn’t.
But now we might as well be mortal enemies.
“That son of a bitch deserved what he got,” I say.
Connor’s eyes widen. He’s quick to wave a finger in my face. “How dare you? That man was your father.” He’s dangerously quiet.
“That man,” I say with as much derogatory hatred as I can muster, “beat our mother. He wasn’t a man. He was a fucking piece of shit coward woman beater. How can you be so loyal to him?” It baffles me. We grew up together. We saw what he did. We felt his wrath.
But Connor feels bad for the fucker.
Connor seems to take a second to gather himself. His answer is so poised I find myself listening. Really listening, perhaps for the first time ever.
“Dad was sick
,” Connor says, placing his hands on his hips as he speaks. His expression is far away, somewhere over my shoulder, perhaps focused on ghosts I can’t see. “But you turned your back on him. You didn’t try to help him. You let him down.”
“Don’t pin that shit on me,” I snarl. “He made his choices. He chose what he did.”
Connor fixes me with an unnerving stare. “He didn’t choose to be sick. He didn’t choose that.”
“Why did you come here?” I ask, ready for him to just go and leave me and my family alone.
“Cami is trying to find you.”
My heart sinks to my toes. Connor seems to see the panic I feel and he speaks quietly. “I didn’t tell her anything. But I thought you needed to know.”
“Thanks.” The word is less hollow than I feel, but Connor shrugs it off like I’m just saying it out of habit.
“Call mom,” he says, straightening up the lapels of his charcoal suit as he turns to walk down the steps like he owns the place.
“Connor,” I say and he stops, pivoting on his heel to face me. “I owe you one.”
He winks. For a second, it feels like the old days. The days before everything in my life fell apart. The days where I called him friend as well as brother. I watch him go and pull the phone from my pocket.
Dialing the number from memory, I wait as it rings.
“Kieran!” Mom sounds deliriously happy and I can’t help the smile she brings to my lips.
“Hi mom. How are you?” I ask, keeping my tone as upbeat as possible. Across the road, Connor pulls his truck off the road and honks as he speeds down the drive.
“It’s so good to hear your voice,” she says, and I sit on the porch, ready to devote the next few hours to her. It’s the least I can do. Connor’s right; I can’t forget where I came from.
“Daddy! Daddy!” Olivia bounces around with every word over her lips.
“Yes, yes, we’re going.” She’s been like a crazy puppy the last few days. Waiting for her first lesson riding horses has been the hardest thing she’s had to deal with for the last week. All the crushing boredom she’s feeling not being in school and not seeing her friends has transferred to me.
Still, as I grab my keys, I feel a sense of excitement welling up in me. It’s not unlike the feeling I’d had as a young boy feeling my first crush. That excitement to see her face at school had made my heart beat fast, made my flesh tingle, made my mouth dry up like the Sahara.
I’m excited to see Emma again.
It’s odd. Women don’t create feelings like this within me. Not for years. Women are wonderful, I love them, until I’m done with them. But they don’t revert me to that young boy experiencing my first crush.
Which is confusing. She hated me. I don’t like her. She’s stubborn and unreasonable. I mean, I offered her exorbitant amounts of money for her land. Yet she’d stuck to her guns for some insane reason. Twenty million is more than she’ll bring in in a lifetime, I’m sure. More than that damn ranch will make for her, absolutely. So clearly, she’s unreasonable.
And I don’t have room for stubborn, unreasonable women in my life. Especially not ones who eye me with the same distaste I often feel for myself.
“Daddy!” Olivia tugs at my sleeve and I resist the urge to tell her not to do that.
“Are you ready?” I ask her, scanning the house one last time. Somehow it feels like this day will change everything, and I’m desperate to remember how it is before I go. For comparison. Soon I’ll have a new stretch of land to make us millions. Soon my fortune will grow. Onward and up.
What had mom said? You’ve always been driven. Just don’t forget to respect the people who make everything possible.
Well, mom didn’t meet Emma.
Chapter 8
Emma
I wake to dawn. A single ray of sunlight streams between my curtains and warms my face. Blinking the sleep from my brain, I sit up.
“Dad!” I call, excited to be up and ready to help him.
Then the world comes crashing back.
Dad is gone.
I’m alone.
Suddenly, I feel like I weight a million pounds. Tears sting in my eyes as I flop back onto my bed. That same warm sun beam lights my face and blinds me. I stare into it, peering between the curtains and catching a glimpse of blue sky beyond.
It’s not fair.
How can the morning be so beautiful when I feel so terrible?
Outside my window, I hear birds singing their hearts out. The sound used to make me smile, but now everything just hurts. Internally, I search for a reason to get out of bed. Something. Anything.
Jenny’s new colt.
I sit up and grab some clean clothes. Dressing in a hurry, I make a stop in the bathroom. Scrub face, relieve self, avoid my eyes in the mirror. Drag the brush through my hair. Gather up the mess of reddish brown hair and twist it up behind my head more for getting it out of my way than fashion.
Then I catch my glance in the mirror.
It’s like time stops as I stare at this stranger. This imposter. Who is this skinny girl with the too pale skin? I look like a walking corpse. Like death personified. In this moment, I hate her. I remember how I looked before dad got sick. I was stronger then. My arms were more muscled. My body filled this stupid tank top then.
Now I’m just a skinny waif that’s clearly not able to take care of herself.
No wonder Mr. Knight thought I wasn’t the owner of this place.
I don’t look like I could own anything other than a permanent bed in the local hospital.
What would dad say if he saw me now?
Shoving aside the thought, I leave the bathroom. On the porch, I grab my boots and shove my feet in them. With quick steps, I rush to the barn. Inside, the heat and horse smell hits me like a truck and I close my eyes and smile, feeling a tiny sense of peace. In mind’s eye, I can see dad here, mucking out the stalls and talking to the horses as he goes.
But when I open my eyes, it’s just me looking out over a sea of faces peering curiously at me over stall doors.
“Good morning,” I say, watching ears swivel and lock on my voice. Gathering up the tattered edges of my courage, I make my way to Jenny’s stall. I’ve got this. I can handle this life. I’m stronger than this.
“Hi Jenny,” I say, peeking over the stall door. Past her, her colt is nursing, his little tail swishing back and forth like he’s feeling frisky. I rub her face as I watch him. “We’ll get you guys outside for some running time today, okay?” I say. She nickers and rubs my shoulder with her nose. I pat her neck as she lips at my hair.
“Knock it off, little lady,” I tell her.
With quick hands, I make rounds, pitching feed into bins. When waters are filled, I begin to take horses out of stalls, one by one. I brush them out, talking to them all the while about everything and nothing. When they’re brushed, I pick out their hooves, then grab the wheel barrow to muck out stalls.
I leave one.
Some part of my brain remembers that I’ll be teaching that sweet-voiced little girl today. And part of my method is to teach everything from the ground up. She’ll learn to muck, to brush the horse, to pick hooves. Everything.
Because the only way to respect an animal is to care for it.
When I’m finally done, the sun is warning me it’s nearing one. Only a few more hours to finish up the tasks I need to get done for the day.
With trembling hands, I halter up Jenny. There’s no need to rope her colt; he’ll follow his momma. “Let’s get you out to pasture,” I say to her and she tosses and lowers her head several times before settling and following me out.
When they’re out in rolling green grasses, I stop to watch them for a while. Jenny’s ready to let out some of the steam she’s feeling at being cooped up so long. And her colt is bouncing around like grass is both the scariest and most amazing thing he’s ever experienced.
Dad would have loved this.
My phone rings and I pull it out of my pocket
.
“Hi Emma!” There’s no mistaking the exuberant voice on the other end of the line.
“Olivia!” I say, glad to hear from her. And it dawns on me; I’ve been looking forward to giving her lessons. Her excitement is infectious. There’s an excitement in her that’s so pure I find myself hoping I’ll feel it with her as she learns.
“We’re here early. Is that okay?” She sounds so scared I feel bad for her.
I can’t help but smile. “It’s fine. Your dad can get the annoying paperwork out of the way first and then we’ll have a ton of fun.”
I can hear the excitement in her words as she speaks to someone I can barely hear in the background. But he sounds handsome.
Stop it, I chide myself. Still, my heart kicks into overdrive.
“We’re parked out by the house,” Olivia says.
“I’ll be there in a second,” I say, walking toward the house. As I circle around the house, I see a familiar truck.
No way.
A little girl piles out of the truck and races toward me. I catch her as she launches herself at me in a genuinely warm hug. But over her head, I meet the brilliant blue eyes of the one man I don’t want to see right now.
Anger backs up my throat like bile as I stroke the girl’s hair. She clings to me as he moves toward me with an air that’s decidedly at ease. But the look in his eyes is all victorious.
I want to slap him.
“Hello Emma,” he says, his throaty voice sending my pulse into a gallop that leaves me feeling faint. How dare he?
Olivia finally pulls back and looks up at me. “Your stomach is rumbling,” she says with all the innocence of a child. I smile at her.
“I must have missed lunch,” I say, realizing I didn’t eat breakfast or lunch. “Why don’t we go in? I can make you a snack,” I say, glad I’d decided to do a bit of shopping yesterday. The part of me that wants to ignore Mr. Knight wins out, and I lead Olivia toward the house. When her fingers slip in mine, my heart melts.
Steal Me (Longshadows Book 1) Page 50
