And I decide to be smart. Once Olivia’s lessons are over, they can leave and never come back. Between his rude pushing me to sell my home and her ability to destroy my peace of mind, I feel like having them here is more damaging than good.
“When her lessons are over, I’d like you to leave and not come back,” I tell him, keeping my voice down as Olivia pushes Dreamer into a trot. She struggles a bit, then finds the pattern and settles in like a pro.
“Fine,” Knight says, his tone decidedly cold. “How much longer?” he asks, and I shrug.
“She’ll already be sore with what she’s done. Usually the kids I teach don’t pick things up so fast, so she’s already ahead of the curve.” Realizing I didn’t answer the question, I speak again. “Whenever you’re ready, she’s had a solid day.”
Olivia flashes us a thrilled grin and Knight warms right up, giving her a thumbs up. She balls a hand into a fist and taps it to her chest twice. He does it right back and her smile grows.
“What does that mean?” I ask, curious.
He doesn’t look at me, but responds. “Still beating.” The double tap sounds like a heartbeat, I realize.
“I like that,” I say, wondering where they’d come up with it. “I bet there is an amazing story behind that.”
He glares at me, the expression so bitter I back up a step, stunned by the sheer force of it. While he says nothing, I stare at him, wondering what happened to hurt him so bad. And I react without thinking.
Opening my arms, I pull him into a tight hug. My arms wind around his shoulders and I pull him tight to my body as if I can hug away his pain and anger. His whole body goes stiff and he refuses to respond, but I refuse to let go.
Then he softens a little and his arms close around my ribs. His face nestles in near my neck and my body wakes from a deep slumber I was unaware I was in.
“The world will chew you up and spit you out,” he says into my ear, and I shiver.
“It hasn’t yet,” I respond. I release him and we both step back, as if repelled back by an invisible force. Something between us shifts. Something intangible. Something I couldn’t even put to words if I tried.
But the flash in his eyes tells me he feels it too.
Needing to turn away, I motion Olivia to pull Dreamer to a halt. She does, then slides from the saddle like a pro. With the reins in her little fist, she walks Dreamer to the fence and speaks in a mournful tone.
“Time to go?” she asks, gazing up at me soulfully.
“Sadly,” I tell her. I stand back and let her lead Dreamer back toward the barn. She walks her into the stall. I slip in and take the saddle off her as Olivia takes off the bridle.
“You did so amazingly well today,” I tell her, and she grins at me. But there’s a decided sadness to her expression too.
“Dad messed this up, didn’t he?” she asks, and I find myself speechless.
At a loss for words, I force some out. “What? No, of course not.”
She seems so sad as she talks. “He’s not as mean as he seems. He’s just… hard on the outside. He’s really nice under everything.”
“No, no, no,” I say, needing to fix this. “He’s fine. You just did a lot today. You need a break. I bet your muscles will be sore tomorrow.”
She smiles, but I sense she’s not totally at ease. Once again, I wonder what the hell this girl has been through. “Hey,” I tell her, internally shouting at myself to shut my mouth even as the words escape, “If you ever need to talk, you have my number okay?”
She shakes her head slowly. “Dad wouldn’t like that. I’m only allowed to talk to my therapist.”
I nod, “That’s smart. A therapist is trained to help. I’m just a lady.”
To my surprise, she pulls me into a hug. Her arms wind around me tight and she holds on like I might disappear if she lets go. “Thank you,” She whispers, and I pat her head.
“Thank you,” I say, “I think you made Dreamer a happy lady tonight.”
I wonder if I’ll be able to just send them on their way when all is said and done. This girl has found her way into my heart. She reminds me of dad with her constant chatter to the horses, she’s so sweet and loving, yet so adult and aware at the same time. It’s heartbreaking. And beautiful.
When they walk out of my life, I might still own my land, but what about my heart?
Chapter 13
Kieran
Emma is a much more formidable opponent than I thought. Now that I’m at home, replaying every second of our encounter in my mind, I know she played me. She played me like a god damned pro.
Still, even now I feel my heart beat a little faster while her face is in my mind. I want her.
I want to destroy her.
I underestimated her. And I won’t make that mistake again. Despite the fury flowing freely through my veins, I swallow back the rage. I turn it inward. When it’s back on myself - the real reason things went belly up - I remind myself that I can’t let a pretty face and soft voice tear down the parts of me on guard against such things.
Sure, she’s a beautiful woman.
But she’s still a woman. She’s human. She has weaknesses. I’ll find them and I’ll exploit them. After all, isn’t that all she did to me today? Wrapped me around her little finger and made sure I was off guard and off my game so she could make sure things went to her advantage?
I’m not giving up.
Fuck no.
Now I’m going to double down.
I’ve got a new plan.
Tomorrow. It’s not even about owning the land now, it’s about winning. She’s not going to get the better of me.
“Hey,” Jessica says, peeking at me from the bathroom. “Are you sure about this?” she asks, seeming unsure of herself. I nod, ready. Ready to take out my displeasure of Emma on someone receptive to pain.
Because I always get what I want.
I’m just settling for a proxy version tonight.
I wake, alone. Jessica left last night, her face alight like she’s in love or some shit. Stupid woman. Even after I took out my rage at another woman on her, she just enjoyed herself and asked if she could come back tonight.
I told her no.
And not to come back.
I get out of bed and head for the shower, solidifying the day’s plans. On the mirror in my bathroom Jessica left me a note written in lipstick.
Call me, lover.
I grab the Windex from under the sink and get scrubbing with no intention of calling her, ever. She’ll get it after a while. Once the mirror is scrubbed clean – Olivia doesn’t need to see shit like that – I get into the shower.
In the back of my mind, I hear dad. Between telling me I’m a failure, he’s congratulating me for putting that bitch in her place.
Shoving him out of my thoughts, I let the warm water course over my face and remember the sensation of having my head shoved under water. Dad’s methods were brutal. In his mind, the only way to respect life was to fight for it. And he made me fight for it by trying to take it away.
But I’m here; he’s not.
So which fucking one of us fought for it?
“I need you to clear those funds,” I say, arguing with the bank.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Knight. We’re doing our best.” The girl on the other end sounds contrite.
I take a deep breath. “So move them. Into a new account. With the name Emma Astor on it.”
“Sir?” The girl says.
“Put your manager on,” I say, tired of this stupid woman. She puts me on hold and I wait, thinking through my plan. This one will work. I’m not going to underestimate the Astor woman again.
“Mr. Knight?” The manager says, and I breathe a sigh of relief that he doesn’t sound like a total idiot.
“I’m trying to transfer a large sum of funds into another account.” I explain the plan and he agrees they can do it.
“May I ask why?” The manager asks, and I’m quick to respond.
“Business.” It’
s a clipped answer, designed to shut him down. And it works.
“Of course, Mr. Knight. I’m sorry for the delay.” He sounds sorry and I nod, though he can’t see me. Once everything is in place and I’ve set up fail safes, I begin to breathe easy. She won’t be able to deny this. Now that it will look and feel real, she might realize we’re talking actual money here, money she could spend. Money in her name.
“Dad?”
I turn, catching sight of Olivia. “Hey baby,” I say, opening my arms to her. She walks over like a little lady and hugs me. “What’s wrong?” I ask, missing her usual exuberance.
Her pretty blue eyes meet mine and I see the sheen of tears there. “Can we move to a farm and have horses?” she asks, and I feel my heart seize.
“Our home is here,” I tell her, and she pulls out of my hug.
“Okay,” she says, staring at the door. “I’m ready to go when you are,” she says before leaving.
“Olivia,” I say as she stands in the doorway. She turns to look at me, seemingly older than her nine years. “I love you,” I say, hoping to set her little mind at ease. “If you need to talk, I’m here, love.”
“I know. I love you too,” she says before leaving.
Staring after her, I try to decode what’s going on with her. I can’t force her to talk to me, but this feels like something real is happening and I’m not privy to it. Did Emma say something to her? Did I miss something important?
Feeling like she’s slipping away, I wonder if I should go after her, or if I should let her have her space. I’ve never been good at reading women like this, but I’ve never cared like I do for Olivia. As she gets older, it’s harder to figure out what to do. I don’t want to push her and push her away because I’m pushing, but I need to know what’s going on in her mind. I can’t help her if I don’t know what to help with.
Today, though, I decide to let things slide and see if she comes out of her funk. There are a lot of other things going on, and I want to talk to her when my whole heart can be in it.
I step out of my room and make my way to the living room. “Olivia!” I say loudly, “Let’s go!”
She comes out of her room and rushes down the stairs, her face alight with excitement. I’m struck by how happy she looks. It’s like looking at a different little girl. The change from how she looked before and how she is now is incredible.
And I realize that maybe all this horse stuff is doing good things for her.
She walks right past me and snatches the keys from me. “I’m driving,” she says, a huge grin on her face.
“I don’t think so,” I say chasing her down.
She giggles as I capture her and pull her into a hug. Resting my chin on her head, I enjoy how her arms come around me and she clings to me like I’m the only important thing in her world. Lord knows she’s the only important thing in mine.
“I love you,” she whispers. In response, I ball my fist up and double tap my chest.
“Still beating,” I whisper.
She smiles and follows suit.
When we load up in the truck, she turns on the radio and sings, staring out her window. She’s back to a more pensive version of herself.
When I turn the radio down and ask her what’s up, she shrugs and turns the radio back up.
Taking the hint, I let it go. She’ll come to me when she’s ready. I can’t force her to talk to me, and I wouldn’t try. I let her know I care and want to talk. That’s what matters.
The dirt road to Emma’s is a great distraction, and I plan ahead.
“Dad, I have to pee,” Olivia says, looking at me like she’s shocked. We’d stopped for Icees, and I smile at her.
“I’m pretty sure Emma will have a bathroom you can use,” I say, noticing how the cherry treat stained her lips red. It makes her look way older and sends my heart right to my toes. I don’t want her to grow up. I want her to stay young and innocent forever. I don’t want some asshole to break her heart.
That’s all she knows, dad whispers in my mind. All you’ve shown her is men who hurt women. That’s what she thinks the world is like, you fuck face.
“Okay,” she says softly as we park before Emma’s place.
We get out and head toward the house. Emma meets us on the porch and Olivia asks her in a whisper if she’s got a bathroom she can use. Emma smiles and guides Olivia the right direction. Left alone with her as Olivia leaves, I notice Emma tuck her hands in her back pocket and shift her weight to her toes like she’s uncomfortable alone with me.
I wonder why?
I lift my phone and show her the account and the amount in it. “It’s in your name,” I tell her. Her eyes widen and she gasps softly as she looks past it at me.
She seems to take a moment to compose herself. Her eyes travel toward the barn then sweep back toward me.
“No,” she says, her tone oddly calm.
“How much?” I ask, tired of dancing round like this.
Her voice is thoughtful and her eyes are soft as she responds. “Not for sale. Not now, not ever.”
Chapter 14
Emma
I felt bad for Mr. Knight before, but the look on his face when I turned him down… I’m pretty sure he felt like I pulled out a pistol and shot him dead through the heart.
He really thought I’d sell.
He really doesn’t get it.
As Olivia works on her daily lesson, I find myself beside an unusually stoic Knight. His shock has faded into an absolute fury. Fury that I’d swear spells murder for me. But he’s quiet, calm even, as he watches Olivia work.
Then, the ire shifts once more and he glances down at me. This time, the anger is gone. The shock is gone. They’re replaced by something so sinister I wince. I’d swear the look is respect.
And I decide, that, though I owe him nothing, I’ll share my reasons with him. I’m confident he won’t be able to use this against me, and I find myself feeling bad for him. He’s such a powerful man, no one ever tells him no. Then I come along and turn his world up on its end. That’s got to be uncomfortable. No wonder he thinks I’m unreasonable. Reasonable people – all the people he’s ever dealt with besides me – do what he wants.
“My dad wanted a boy,” I say, giving voice to the beginning. “He said women are trouble. That I’d be like my mom, pregnant at sixteen and married off to some fool I’d fallen in love with.”
Knight is silent.
But I’m giving voice to my truth, and his silence is merely an invitation to continue. “Like they were. He needed a son to follow in his footsteps. Needed a boy to take over and run things when he was gone.”
The pain of it all rises up and chokes me. My throat feels like it’s closing and I take a moment to compose myself as we watch Olivia, her chin held high and a stubborn light in her eyes as she works with Dreamer to do figure eights.
When I’m certain I can speak again, I start slow. “When dad would hire guys, they’d resort to any wheel and deal tactics they could.” I shake my head, still feeling as incredulous as I had back then. “One offered to marry me to take care of me and the ranch.” Realizing he might need context, I add, “I was ten.”
Beside me, Knight stiffens, and I realize I might have hit a nerve. Olivia is nine. I’m sure he’s putting her in my place, perhaps putting his whole life in mine as I speak. Maybe he’s in a better place to understand my life than I’ve given him credit for.
“I felt like dad wanted to kill the guy,” I say, remembering with a smile. Dad had stood up for me. “He told him to get the fuck out and never come back unless he wanted to lose his tackle.” I can’t help the grin widening over my lips. “It was the first time I’d ever heard dad threaten someone, the first time I’d heard him cuss, or raise his voice. He was such a calm man.”
Knight looks at me, and deep in his eyes, I see darkness that’s drowning him.
Struck silent, I feel my lips part as he stares at me like the world is falling down around us. His eyes move to my lips and I can�
��t help but run my tongue over them. They’re so dry and my nerves are working overtime with the intensity behind his stare.
His eyes meet mine again and my heart begins to pound in my throat so hard I feel faint. As if he knows the effect he’s having on me, he looks away. With his attention back on Olivia, I can gather the shredded bits of my courage around me like a moth-eaten blanket.
And I continue telling him the story.
“But there were guys who didn’t go the nice route. Some straight up told dad that I couldn’t run this place. They said I’m just a stupid, weak girl and I’d wind up losing everything.” Tears sting in my eyes as I speak. It hurts to remember how dad had argued, but perhaps half-heartedly. Like he was arguing his hopes rather than with a conviction that told him I’d be just fine.
And I’m still here. Still fighting. Still running the place like dad did.
I wonder if Knight is even listening to me at this point. But it feels good to talk, so I’m ready to continue even if he’s ignoring me. I haven’t opened up about this yet, and it’s a nice feeling to just let it all out. If I had more time - and more friends - I’d talk to them, but time is such a short commodity it’s just not feasible. I’ll settle for this.
At least I know Knight wont fake pity me, or bullshit me.
“Thanks,” I say suddenly. He looks at me this time his expression is carefully guarded. I smile at him as I speak part of what’s on my mind. “I was just thinking that I know you won’t fake pity me or bullshit me. It’s nice to be so candid and honest without worrying about what you think or how you’ll react.”
His eyes narrow a tiny bit before returning to normal, and I find myself wondering what’s going on in that mind of his. What is he thinking? Feeling? Is he just thinking about how crazy I am to be dumping all of this on him? Because it is nuts. He’s not a friend. Not a confidant. Not even someone who has the slightest care about the worst parts of my life.
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