I didn’t remember crossing my legs.
He wasn’t through. “ ‘I’d rather be riding.’ ”
“What was wrong with that? We were just talking.”
“Like Will Howard was just giving you a ride home from school. Like he just brought you flowers. Like he kept calling the house until I got rid of the landline.”
“You said it was an interview. We were feeling each other out.”
“You acted like a goddamned tease.”
Anger rushed through me. “That’s not true.”
“Shut up. Not another word.”
I passed the rest of the drive back to the hotel chewing the inside of my cheek.
In the lobby, he handed me the key to the room. “Go on up. I need a nightcap.”
Yeah, me, too. The minibar tempted me, but I changed into my nightgown, washed my face, brushed my teeth. Then I got in bed, as near the edge as I could be without falling off, switched off the lamp, and pulled the covers up to my chin.
I hadn’t done anything wrong. So what if I’d thought of running my fingers through Tanner’s hair and kissing him? Thoughts weren’t actions, Tanner wasn’t Will, and Daddy wasn’t normal. Neither was I. If I were, I’d be figuring out how to defuse him instead of missing Will so acutely that I could all but feel myself pushing my fingers into his thick blond hair, kissing him, fitting my body against his and having his cock harden instantly. My nipples grazed the inside of my nightgown.
The click of the electronic lock sent a shock through me. The door opened and closed. The dead bolt locked.
My pulse thumped.
Daddy’s zipper slid down, and hangers scraped on the rod of the closet. In the bathroom, water ran, and he brushed his teeth.
He got into bed, irritation sparking off him.
Tangible physical tension stretched across the king-sized expanse between us. I felt like I was going to erupt out of my skin.
I didn’t want this; I didn’t want him. When he reached for me, I squeezed my eyes shut and lay still, willing my physical body to be as stoic and leaden as my thoughts and emotions. He fumbled with my nightgown, my underwear. I didn’t help him, but I didn’t have to. He rose over me and drove his cock into me. All I had to do, I thought, was lie here and take it like I had countless times before.
That was all I did, and still an orgasm rose in me like a tide. I tried to stop it, but it rolled through me in waves, and it was too much for him, and he came, too.
I looked up at him. His anger was gone. He’d fucked it out of his system—but if I’d hoped that would work for me, it hadn’t.
He rolled on his side and curled his body around mine.
What are you doing? The voice was so real that for an instant I thought someone had spoken aloud.
I don’t know, I thought. I don’t know.
- twenty-four -
WE ARRIVED AT the show park before dawn. Daddy went to the barn, and I went to the trailer and poured myself half a cup of coffee. While I drank it, Bluegrass woke up, horses and people silhouetted against the pink-and-gold sunrise as they walked along the paths, voices and the occasional nicker punctuating the quiet.
It was horse-show business as usual. Daddy had risen early, dressed, and gone downstairs to wait for me in the lobby. As soon as he left, I locked myself in the bathroom with my phone and brought up Will’s number. He’d said I could call anytime. It was easier to text, but even then, not so easy. How did I get from here to there?
Good morning.
Innocent.
Delete.
I’ve never said it before, and it doesn’t seem fair to say it now, but I want you to know I love you.
I stared at the message for a minute before I turned off my phone without sending it. Messing with his emotions, making him sad or giving him hope we could be boyfriend and girlfriend again, wouldn’t make me feel better about last night. Mentally I led Will into a stall in my mind. I had a dressage test to ride.
I had drawn a good position in the order of go, thirty-eight, so I would ride near the end. As Daddy and I sat in the stands and watched my competition, I tried to put last night out of my mind, listening as he commented on the other riders’ flaws and strengths.
At one, I went to the trailer and suited up, my reflection cool and confident. Look like a winner, feel like a winner. I practiced a winning smile. Too many teeth.
Eddie and Mateo had spent all morning polishing Jasper to an almost otherworldly luster. I fed him a sugar cube while Daddy snapped photos with his cell, documentation of my comeback, assuming it wasn’t disastrous. It wouldn’t be, I thought.
Jasper pawed the ground.
“He’s ready to rock and roll,” Eddie said.
“Me, too,” I said.
We walked over the grounds to the practice arena, Jasper strutting along in what Eddie called his parade walk. I put on my white kid gloves and flexed my fingers. Daddy gave me a leg up and straightened the tails of my jacket.
With a clean cloth, Mateo buffed my boots and dusted Jasper’s legs and hoofs.
Daddy looked up at me. “Take a deep breath and let it out.”
I did.
“Again.… One more.… Good. You’re ready. Jasper’s ready. You’ll ride a great test.”
We’d been warming up for half an hour and had practiced some movements from the test when I heard applause. The previous rider, a young woman from England, exited the competition arena and dismounted.
Eight minutes between competitors. Jasper and I were up. I kept him in a slow trot. My dress helmet and jacket drank in the heat. Sweat filmed on my face, trickled down my back.
After a time, the announcer’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “That was Prima, owned and ridden by Alexia Morse of the United Kingdom, with a score of 48.2. Next is number thirty-eight, Emerald Jazz Dancer, owned by Rosemont Farms and ridden by Roan Montgomery.”
The bell chimed.
“Knock ’em dead, darlin’,” Daddy said, but I was already leaving him behind.
Jasper entered the arena in a controlled canter. As always, the rest of the world went out of focus until the only things I could see clearly were my horse’s neck and ears and the expanse of arena. We halted at I, a good, solid halt. I saluted the judges, and we went directly from the halt into a collected trot, tracking right at C. Maintaining the trot, we moved laterally from M to B, Jasper’s left foreleg crossing over his right.
He was supple, collected, rhythmic, willing to do everything I asked of him as we executed changes of gait and direction, but there was more to his performance than any of this alone or even all of it together. I wasn’t a rider on his back. Our minds and hearts and muscles had coalesced so completely that I was part of him.
We moved down the centerline in a collected canter and halted at X. I bowed my head in salute to the judges. Thunderous applause broke the spell.
I leaned over and hugged Jasper. Laughter rippled through the stands.
Daddy met us as we exited. “Goddamn, that was gorgeous.”
I dismounted and hugged Jasper again. His eyes were bright. He knew he’d done well.
Mateo led him away. I removed my helmet. Daddy helped me take off my number, and I unbuttoned my shadbelly and shrugged out of it. Eddie bundled everything together and waited with us to hear the results.
“That was Emerald Jazz Dancer, owned by Rosemont Farms and ridden by Roan Montgomery, coming back from a training injury with our best score of the day, a near-perfect 37.9.”
The stands erupted again. Daddy hugged me. Cameras clicked and whirred.
He released me. “Proud of you, darlin’.”
It was a rush, all of it, the ride, the applause, his praise, the attentions of the photographer from Classic Equine and then Owen, the SNN camera operator, and fans, too, shooting us with their cell phones, capturing our closeness, Daddy’s pride.
“Let’s go see how that horse of yours is doing,” he said.
That horse of mine—not Frank’s.
<
br /> Jasper looked fresh. Mateo had already hosed him off and was scraping excess water from him. My sweat-soaked shirt clung to me.
“Go change.” Daddy handed me the key to the trailer. “Meet me back here. We’ll have lunch.”
In the trailer, I took a sponge bath and dressed in the jeans and polo shirt I’d worn to the show park. If I’d had my phone, I’d have texted Will now—not the message I’d written earlier, but something simple, like Dressage test went great. He was cutting class to watch the live stream, so he might know. He might know I loved him, too.
Lunch was messy Kentucky brown sandwiches purchased from one of the park vendors and eaten in the makeshift tack room, the four of us sitting on hay bales, everyone good-humored and joking. I slipped into Jasper’s stall with carrots and ear rubs. “Thank you,” I whispered. I kissed him between his eyes.
The rankings were in by midafternoon. A rider from Brazil was in third, Jamie was in second, and I was in first. Michael who? Odette shouldn’t have written me off.
We gave interviews to Vic and writers from Eventing Today and Classic Equine. On our way to walk the cross-country course again, we accepted congratulations from competitors and strangers alike.
On most cross-country courses, the last few fences were relatively easy, but here, two jumps from the end was a pool hidden by a hedge, and after the final fence, the run-in to the finish was slightly uphill. Grueling.
Daddy studied the water jump. “It’s a lot to ask of a horse this late in the course. Pacing will be important.”
Back at the barn, he went into the tack room to talk to Eddie, and I visited Jasper for one more ear rub. I pressed my cheek to his neck, his tangy scent prolonging my illusion that I was happy, except it was more than an illusion. I loved this part of my life.
My high dissipated in the car.
“Since tomorrow’s another long day,” Daddy said, “what if we order room service?”
Today he’d been who I wanted him to be all the time, but he’d change when we got back to the room. I tried to feel better about last night by remembering that I hadn’t actively participated, much less instigated anything, but I felt no less shame, no less complicity. Was I letting this happen? How could I stop him? He had all the power.
I looked at the room-service menu first and showered while he placed the order. I put on my nightgown and a hotel robe and wiped steam from the mirror. On the outside, I finally recognized my new short-haired self, but I was having trouble with the inside.
When I went back into the bedroom, Daddy was on the bed, propped on pillows and reading the paper.
He folded it. “If room service comes, add the tip and sign for it.”
He took fast showers. I made sure my phone was at the bottom of my backpack, then pulled out my biology notebook. I was reviewing my notes when Daddy came out of the bathroom wearing a robe and rubbing his hair with a towel.
He came over to me and stroked my hair. “That was an outstanding ride, darlin’.”
Again I felt a glow at his words—his words, not his touch. If I could keep the conversation focused on riding, tonight might be okay.
“You got me here,” I said.
“I appreciate that, but you were the one on the horse.” He tousled my hair.
Quit touching it. Quit touching me.
A knock came at the door, and he went to answer it. A waiter wheeled in a cart.
Lunch had been late and the sandwich rich, so I wasn’t hungry, but I’d have even less appetite tomorrow until after I rode, so I’d ordered a poached chicken breast and milk. The cart also held a steak, a bowl of strawberries, and a bottle of Veuve Clicquot in an ice bucket.
I sat in the desk chair, Daddy on the bed, the cart between us like a table. The cork sighed as he eased it out of the bottle. He filled one flute for himself and barely wetted the bottom of a second flute, which he handed to me.
He raised his glass. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
I didn’t much want to toast to his lack of confidence in me, but I touched my glass to his.
He watched me. “Do you like it?”
“It’s good.”
“Some more, then.” He poured a trickle down the side of my glass, no more than a sip.
“Why didn’t you think I had it in me?”
“You said it yourself. You haven’t had any training time to speak of on Jasper.”
“So why am I riding him?”
“I wanted to see if you have what it takes.”
“And do I?”
“We’ll find out.”
He ate his steak, and I drank my milk and ate some chicken and strawberries. Then he pushed the cart aside and held out his hand. His nails were perfectly buffed.
I can’t do this anymore.
“Excuse me.” I rose and went into the bathroom and closed the door and locked it.
The doorknob rattled. “You all right, darlin’?”
“I drank too much. I’m going to be sick.” If he thought I was drunk enough to throw up, he might leave me alone, but I’d barely had a taste of champagne, so I’d have to make myself puke. I leaned over the toilet and stuck my fingers down my throat, gagging and bringing up the contents of my stomach.
“Jesus, darlin’, you didn’t have any alcohol to speak of.”
“I guess I’m sensitive to it.” I flushed the toilet. “I need to lie down.”
The odor of vomit might put him off, but I couldn’t stand the aftertaste, so I brushed my teeth and then sat on the edge of the bathtub. The sound of him moving around in the other room raked across my nerves. My skin felt sunburned. If we weren’t in the same bed, it would reduce the chances of sex. I could sleep on the floor. Or he could. He wouldn’t, although in similar circumstances any other coach would so his rider would be rested the next day.
There were no similar circumstances. There wasn’t another coach at this event who wanted to undermine his rider. He demanded success but had set me up for failure by putting me on Jasper, but that had backfired, because Jasper and I were magic. Or was he just pushing me to be the best?
He was at the door again. “I got some aspirin from your backpack. Open up. You don’t want a hangover.”
People didn’t even take aspirin to prevent a hangover any—
My backpack.
I leaped to my feet and pawed at the doorknob, finally getting the door open. Daddy stood there, aspirin in hand, but my eyes snapped past him to my backpack on the bed, unzipped, books spilling out.
My phone wasn’t among the books—he hadn’t found it—and I pulled my gaze back to him, but he’d already turned his head to see what I’d been looking at.
He glanced back at me with a suspicious eye, walked over to the bed, and dumped everything out onto the immaculate white comforter. My phone tumbled out, and my bladder spasmed in a sudden urge to urinate.
His face deadly, he turned on the phone and swiped his finger across the screen. I’d never bothered to lock it with a password, but even if I had, he’d have forced me to tell him what it was.
He tapped the screen and scrolled. “You were right, darlin’. Will Howard wasn’t calling the house.” He tapped again. “ ‘I want you to know I love you.’ ” He grimaced. “You love him.”
My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I peeled it free. “I didn’t send it.”
He scrolled and read, his face becoming more and more closed. “Oh, look at this. He’s going to lick every inch of you.”
My face burned. At first, I’d deleted our texts, but then I’d found so much pleasure in rereading them that I’d kept them.
“You have no right to read those.” My voice cracked.
He scrolled. “You’ve met him at the fire road. Our fire road?”
Our fire road, where he’d fucked me against a tree, not caring that the bark scraped my back bloody.
“Tell me you had enough sense not to send him naked selfies, or they’ll be all over the internet.”
Despite th
e heat of some of our texts, Will and I had never discussed naked pictures.
“He wouldn’t do that.”
He glanced at me. “But you would.”
“You’re disgusting.” I started for the door, not knowing where I’d go, just knowing I couldn’t stay here.
Daddy was on me before I’d taken a full stride, his fingers like iron around my wrist. “How old is he?”
The question was such a non sequitur that I answered. “Seventeen.”
“Not eighteen? If he is, that’s statutory rape. I swear to God I’ll have him arrested, and you better believe he’ll spend time in jail. You think he’ll have any kind of life after that? He’ll be a sex offender. That follows a man forever.”
The threat turned my blood to ice water. But Will wasn’t eighteen—and I was known among my competitors for having solid ice in my veins, nothing watery about it.
I looked at the fingers around my wrist. “You want to talk about who’s a sex offender?”
“What happens between us is private.”
“What happens between us is wrong.” I wrenched free. “We’re done. You touch me again, you kiss me or try to fuck me or hurt me in any way, you lay a finger on Will, you so much as threaten to get rid of Jasper, and I’ll tell everyone, starting with your good friend Vic.”
For a moment, I had him where I wanted him—dumbfounded.
Then he advanced on me. “You lying, cheating whore—you stupid cunt—you’re just like your mother.”
He’d never spoken to me like that before; I’d never even heard him say those things to Mama. But what struck me wasn’t being called names. It was the word cheating. In what world was it possible for a daughter to cheat on her father?
“You’re disgusting.” I tried to push past him, but he caught me in a python’s embrace, pinning me, my back to his front. His arms crushed the air from my lungs.
“Is that why you came last night—because I’m disgusting?”
I threw my head back and connected with his nose. With a grunt he released me, but I stumbled. He grabbed me again and spun me around to face him.
Anger roiled inside me like magma. I launched myself at him. He sidestepped, picked me up under one arm, threw me on the bed. I started to bounce up, but he was already over me. I jammed my knee upward and caught his thigh. I swiped at his eyes with my fingernails, but he pulled his head back, and I clawed his neck. Furrows of skin rolled up under my nails, which broke to the quick.
Dark Horses Page 26
