Dark Universe (The Universe Series)

by Devon Herrera

  “My step dad is.”

  “What about your real father?” I ask

  I notice his fists tighten on the steering wheel and his normally passive expression turns hard and his voice is firm when he says emphatically, “I don’t have a father.” His tone brooks no argument or comment from me, but my hand has a mind of its own and reaches up to brush a piece of his hair behind his ear. His hand snatches up and grabs my fingers the second they make contact. Startled, I look up to find him glaring daggers at me. As much as my instinct is to meekly put my hand back in my lap, I refuse to let him intimidate me because of one innocent touch. I drop my hand and feign indifference while looking out the window.

  The rest of the drive is spent in an awkward silence. When he finally turns into the long driveway and parks the truck, I jump out of the tension filled space. Drake takes his time getting out of the cab and doesn’t even glance in my direction as he walks over to one of the barns, leaving me to trail behind him. He leads me to a stall at the end of the barn and opens the gate.

  I walk in behind him and standing inside is a beautiful Palomino mare. Her coat is a golden blonde and her mane is almost white. She greets Drake with a groan, lifts both front legs excitedly and lowers her head for him to approach her.

  “She’s beautiful.” I breathe, suddenly feeling like an intruder in their moment.

  Drake beams at me, all the tension from earlier gone from his gaze. It’s like being around his horse has the same calming effect on him that Taz has on me. The mutual affection between him and Ruger is obvious. “Can I see her move?” I ask, although I’m tempted to accept his offer on the spot just from seeing her.

  “Sure, come pet her first.” He offers and gives her a scratch under her jaw earning another one of those horsey groans.

  “Hey, pretty girl.” I coo and hold my hand in front of her nose, palm up and flat so she can smell me. She puts her nose in my palm giving me permission to run my hand up her head and over her neck. She groans again and Drake and I laugh together at her vocals. “She has a lot of personality, doesn’t she?” I say, giggling further when she bumps me in the shoulder with her forehead because I stopped petting her.

  “Yea, she sure does. She’s a sweetheart. She thinks she’s the boss sometimes and isn’t afraid to let you know what she wants.” He narrows his eyes at me and chuckles. “Sounds like someone else I know.” I stick my tongue at him and he laughs harder. “Well girl, should we show Lo what you’re made of?” Ruger stomps a few times excitedly, and Drake opens the gate to grab a halter as Ruger follows him out into the entryway of the barn and out to the hitching post.

  He saddles her quickly and efficiently. He’s obviously done this a time or two, and personally, I don’t think there is anything sexier than a man who can ride. Drake leads her into the round pen and starts to trot her around the small space. Drake barely seems to have to move his torso and arms in the direction he wants to go, for Ruger to flow right into the turn. Her responses are smooth, natural and graceful. I’m sold after three full minutes, but watch him ride for at least ten more before motioning him over to me.

  I slip through the bars of the fence and walk up to Ruger and feed her a treat I stole from the feed room and pat her on the neck. “Good girl Ruger. You just got you and your daddy a deal.” She groans at me and whinnies, and I look up to a smiling Drake who dismounts and reaches out to shake my hand. I put my palm in his and lose my breath completely. Gravity seems to have shifted vertically and is trying to force me closer to Drake. I beat back the urge to walk straight into his arms and give his hand one firm shake before ripping mine away. I’m not a touchy feely person and this needy sensation is totally unfamiliar and even more unwelcome. I don’t do entanglements of any kind.

  “Let’s load her up,” I say to break the silence and Drake nods.

  “I’ll pay whatever fees you charge other boarders.” Drake says firmly.

  “Well, we don’t usually board but I’ll make you a deal. If you pay for her food, take care of cleaning her stalls and help out whenever we need an extra hand we’ll call it even,” I offer.

  “No. I can’t ask you to do me any favors,” he dismisses. He obviously has some learning to do.

  “Listen, Drake. I can’t have you getting all stubborn on me every time I try to make you a deal. Take it or leave it, don’t waste my time.”

  Drake chuckles and nods. “Alright, Lola, you’ve got a deal. Thank you.”

  When we get back to the club Drake leads Ruger out of the trailer and into the barn. “Put her in the end stall,” I call out to him. He gets halfway down the row of stalls when Ruger stops and groans.

  “Come on girl,” Drake says while pulling on the rope. She doesn’t budge and sticks her head up against the small opening at one of the stalls and groans again.

  “What’s up?” I ask and walk over to Ruger and Drake.

  “I don’t know, she just stopped walking and won’t move.”

  “That’s Taz’s stall.”

  “Yea. I see that,” he says chuckling.

  I walk over and see not only is Ruger pressed up against the gate, Taz is bumping the wood with his head and whinnying like crazy. I giggle and reach across to open the latch and swing the gate open.

  “Lo, wait! Do you think that’s…?” Drake trails off as Ruger steps into the stall and Taz meets her in the gateway. Drake and I both stare wide eyed as they start to nuzzle each other.

  “Well then.” Drake coughs into his hand. “Okay girl time to get going, you can see your new boyfriend later.” He pulls on her rope again, and she pulls back and shakes her head and walks all the way into the pen. Drake looks over at me and lifts his hands. “A little help here. They can’t stay in this stall together, it’s too small.”

  I laugh at him as I open the gate and cluck at Taz and walk down the barn to the back where the large stalls are located. Taz follows obediently after me, and Ruger is step for step behind him. I open the gate and Taz walks to the back of the stall waiting for his new friend. Drake removes Ruger’s halter and she trots in excitedly.

  “Don’t you think we should keep them in separate stalls? We don’t want them to hurt each other or anything,” Drake says nervously, peering into the new home of the happy couple.

  “Good luck trying to keep them apart. They don’t seem to be worried about getting hurt,” I say and pat him on the shoulder.

  I walk out of the barn and Drake comes up behind me when we get to the truck. “Thanks again, Lola. I really appreciate it.”

  “Sure, no problem.” Drake nods at me and starts to walk off toward his truck.

  “Drake!” I call out to him before I can stop myself.

  “Yea?” He says stopping a few feet in front of me, without turning around.

  What I really want to say is, “Why did you get mad when I touched you?” What I actually say is, “You might want to go take a shower. You smell like shit.” I hear him chuckling until the truck door slams shut, and he drives off.

  CHAPTER 3

  “Why should I obtain by force that which I can obtain by cheating?”

  -Doc Holiday

  “Lola.” My mother knocks on the door of my apartment. I bought the guest house from them a few years back when I finally couldn’t stand living in the same house as my parents anymore. Even being on the other side of the barn is too close sometimes, but I can’t imagine leaving Taz and there is no point in getting my own place and a barn when there are two perfectly good ones right here.

  “Come in, Mom,” I call back.

  “Will you be eating dinner with us tonight?” She asks in her sweet rodeo queen voice and fluffs her voluminous blonde hair.

  “Yea, sure. I’ll be over in a few.”

  “Okay, darling.” She starts to walk away and then stops and turns slightly. It drives me crazy she constantly maintains that air of superiority as if she’s at one of the uppity functions my parents always drag me to. Fundraisers, country club events, they are all full of
people like my mom and dad, perfect, polite, well groomed and rich. There are times, however, when I see my mom battle between being delicate and bitchy. She always said there was a fine line between criticism and cattiness, and right now, she is trying to find it.

  “Lola, have you managed to speak or meet with Vincent at all?”

  “No.” Where the hell is she going with this?

  “Oh, well I was thinking, maybe I should invite him over for dinner tomorrow.” She brightens and I cringe.

  “Yea…about that,” I mutter, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You know me and I don’t think Vincent would be at all my type.”

  “How would you know? You haven’t even met him yet.”

  “I just know, okay.”

  “Oh, and are you also going to tell me that Thomas boy has nothing to do with this?” She sneers. Ah ha! Someone has been spying on me again.

  “That’s exactly what I’m going to tell you.” Well, it’s sort of the truth.

  “Lola, don’t lie to me. I have eyes, I saw that boy.”

  “Mom, quit referring to Drake as “that boy”, he’s hardly a teenager.”

  “Oh, so his name is Drake now.”

  “Um, as far as I know it’s always been Drake. What’s your problem with him anyway? Dad really seems to like him.”

  My mother sighs and plops down on my bed. Actually, she more like perches on the edge of it. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt that’s all. Guys like that can do some real damage to a girl like you.”

  I glare at her and shake my head. “I think we should probably stop throwing glass at rocks and houses,” I say sarcastically.

  “It’s throw rocks at glass houses, Lola, and I don’t see how that saying applies here,” she says, obviously exasperated.

  “Don’t you? I’m pretty sure the Chase’s are the last people that should be talking about what a guy can do to a girl. Or did washing your hands of the past wash it from your memory as well?”

  “Lola, you know that’s not the same thing.”

  “Isn’t it? Just because Nathan was rich and that girl wasn’t doesn’t change anything.”

  “He’s just not good enough for you,” she says firmly and I laugh.

  “Oh, we’re back to Drake are we? You never could talk about it, even when it happened. Whatever, I’m over this conversation. I think I’ll skip on dinner actually, Mom. I’ll see you later.” I ignore her protests and exit the apartment and walk down to the barn to saddle up Taz. I need to ride.

  Brown and white and grey swirls flash by me at a breakneck speed. The wind whips my ponytail all around my face and stings my eyes. My heart pounds to the beat of Taz’s hooves hitting the cold ground. There are no walls out here, no rules, no pretences, just wide open land. I’m totally and completely free. I urge Taz faster, and revel in the feeling of my freedom. The feeling is liberating and relaxing. It’s a total contradiction, how riding a living breathing animal at this pace could calm me, but it’s the truth. That is why I love riding so much. My world is filled with expectations and standards and so many façades it’s stifling. I just want to run.

  Taz carries me through the miles of pasture, away from the house and the parents who confine me. Even love can be a prison if it tries to force you into a mold that’s too small. I’ll never fit into the small box my mother expects me to eventually slip into. I’ve seen too much low in my life to think I’m elevated in some way. I just want to be free to be myself. I don’t want to become cold and perfect. That kind of pressure wares on even the hardest of stones, and I’ve seen firsthand how easily they crack. The worst of it, is when all the tension finally releases, it usually snaps across the backs of the people you love the most. I refuse to be that person. I’ve been living my life with no apologies to anyone for this long and I don’t plan to change it now or ever. Not even for my mother.

  We race and run, and run and race until Taz starts to breathe harder, and I slow to a stop to give him some treats and much needed rest. I’m staring out over his head at the pink and orange sunset blossoming over the low hills when Taz rears back and neighs loudly. I lean my weight forward and press my thighs to the saddle to stay seated as he jumps back and sideways then races off. I try to slow him to no avail. It must have been a snake or something that spooked him like crazy because he just keeps running and running until he reaches the fence at the end of the property that runs parallel to a dirt road.

  I jump down off of Taz who is breathing heavily and groaning. I coo and murmur to him and stroke his neck in an attempt to help him come down from the adrenaline high. He finally calms, and then starts walking off toward a small hill. I assume he is just trying to walk it off like humans do, since in all my years working with them, I’ve learned animals really aren’t too different from us. When we get to the top of the hill I see a familiar bronze truck pulled over to the side of the road. “What the hell is he doing here, Taz?”

  I walk the rest of the way to where the fence meets the truck, then climb through the posts and approach the truck cautiously. I start to get worried when I don’t see anyone in the cab. When I round the corner and find Drake sitting in the bed eating out of what looks like a can of soup, I shake my head in confusion. What the fuck?!

  I can see the muscles in his back stiffen, and his arm freezes in midair as though he can feel my presence. I see him set the spoon that was on the way to his mouth gently in the can. I approach him less carefully, now that he already knows I’m here, and try to think of a way to ask him what the hell is going on without sounding too nosey. He turns to face me and the effect that simple movement has on me is pathetic. I start to feel warm and liquid, like I’ll melt into a hot mess in any second.

  “Hey there, cowboy,” I say, plastering on my snarky smile to mask the ridiculous attraction I’m feeling in this moment.

  “What are you doing out here this late?” He asks, earning a glare from me.

  “What am I doing here? I should be asking you that question.” I get to the tail gate, put one hand flat on the surface and cock my hip while raising my eyebrows. I use that look every chance I get. I should patent this move. I’ve only ever seen one of the male species who didn’t respond to it and I’m pretty sure it’s because he was too busy pining after my best friend to be intimidated.

  “Well, your fence ends on that side of the road, so technically I don’t have to answer your question.” To my chagrin, Drake seems even less affected than Connor did. Damn. I decide to up the ante a little and move to sit next to him on the tail gate and “innocently” peak over his shoulder to look into the can he is eating from. I feel him freeze up and he sets the can out of my vision and leans away slightly. It’s not the reaction I was hoping for, but at least it’s a reaction.

  “Whatcha eatin'?” I say in my best Daisy Duke impersonation.

  “Soup.” Such a simple word sounds sexy in his deep husky drawl.

  “I see that. Why are you on the side of an abandoned road at the edge of my property at eight o’clock at night, eating soup in the bed of your truck, all alone?” I add.

  He pulls back his ball cap and wipes his brow before giving me another non answer. “That’s a lot of questions for one sentence.”

  “And you haven’t answered a single one of them,” I counter.

  He sighs and searches my eyes for a moment. “I can’t believe this. You always catch me off guard,” he mutters, and it doesn’t make one lick of sense, but I wait for him to continue. “If I tell you, will you promise not to tell your parents?”

  What the hell is he getting at? “Even if I said yes, how do you know I would stick to my word?” I ask instead of answering him.

  “Call it intuition,” he says.

  “Alright, I’ll bite. I promise not to tattle on you to Mommy and Daddy.”

  “This is serious, Lola. I don’t want them to think any less of me than they already do. I can’t afford to lose this deal.” He’s full on frowning now, and it touches the little piece inside
me that’s still soft.

  “Drake,” I take his hand and look him in the eye, “I won’t tell a soul.”

  He seems to take me at my word and nods. “I got into a bad spot a few months back. I had to pay for some family stuff and I was already spending more than I had on Ruger’s boarding.” He pauses and it’s so obvious this is extremely hard and uncomfortable for him to admit. So much so, I almost tell him I don’t need to know just to ease his discomfort. That would be a lie, so I let him continue. Something tells me this is something he needs to tell someone. “I’ve kind of been camping out in my truck to save some money. No big deal.”

  My mouth drops open and his expression turns to stone. “You’ve been homeless for months?” I breathe and he grinds his teeth together, displeased at my reaction.

  “That right there,” he says, “that look is why you can never tell your parents.” He pulls his hat down tight and hops off the tail gate and starts to walk toward the front of the truck. I jump down and follow him.

  “Drake, I…”

  He turns back around and I stop in my tracks. “Don’t you dare feel sorry for me,” he seethes. “I don’t want it. You may think squatting in a truck is as close as it gets to hell, for me it’s a fucking holiday. I’ve got a sponsor, a nice cozy place for my horse and I have a job. That’s more than a lot of people can say, and that’s more than I’ve had in the past.”

  I stand silent for a moment to pick out the thoughts I know won’t offend him, without being placating. How do you tell someone they are being a dumb ass and be nice about it without being too nice?

  “I’m not sorry I feel bad for you Drake; I’m not cold, I’m not dead, and although it’s been up for debate a few times, I still have a heart. It’s in my nature to be empathetic. Only a bastard would feel anything less than what I feel for you in this situation. I’ll also have you know I don’t see you as any less of a man for it, since that’s what I’m thinking you’re really worried about.”

  Drake seems to take that in and slowly, gradually, his face softens. “You are a very confusing, dangerous woman.” He says cryptically.