Deciding to take a leisurely stroll to the stables, I leave my now empty glass of champagne behind, enjoying the slight buzz the bubbles have given me. I take my shoes off, allowing my feet to sink into the manicured lawn. I smile as a slight breeze hits my face. It may be dark, but it's muggy and quite oppressive.
Getting to the barn attached to the stables, I go inside. The barn is huge, housing stacks of hay ready for when the horses arrive.
I open the door to walk back out and marvel at the expanse of the stables. There are five altogether. The fifth isn’t finished yet, but it’s well on its way.
"I never figured Owen as a horse man." I jump at the sound of a male voice behind me. Turning, I spot a guy in his late twenties with short black hair and a goatee. I have noticed him before at Owen's gatherings, but we have never spoken. I believe he's an accountant for a major firm, but never bothered to find out.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."
"It's fine," I reply, holding my chest. When he offers his hand, I reach out, taking it.
"Guy Fletcher, I believe we haven't been introduced yet. Savannah, isn't it?"
I nod, shaking his hand. "Yes, that's right."
He glances around the barn and stables. "This is coming along nicely."
My gaze follows his, and I smile. "Yes, it is. Owen trusted me enough to manage the project."
"Well, he must be thankful. It looks impressive." Seeing that as a compliment, I thank him. "How has it been living here so far? Adjusting to a new dad and everything?"
I grimace slightly, but don’t think he saw it. "It's been strange, but good. I've really been enjoying my time."
"That's great news. The longer you live here, the more parties I get to see you at."
Oh wow, straight in with the flirting.
Awkwardly, I smile, heat rising to my cheeks.
"I apologize, I didn't mean to embarrass you. It's just nice to have someone here around the same age, you know?"
I feel bad for misjudging him. How egotistical of me. "Yes, of course." I do agree in some respects. Most people here are middle-aged with kids and such high-powered jobs, they have sticks up their asses. However, there is one exception.
And speaking of, he arrives as Guy and I are smiling at each other. Owen smiles back, but I witness the slight twitch in his jaw. Maybe he's still pissed I got along so well with his mother. Maybe she told him something he didn't want to hear—that thing being possibly about my mother.
"Checking on the progress, I see?" Owen asks, fixing his green eyes on me.
I bite my lip, trying to suppress my smile, but Owen doesn't miss a beat. Seemingly unable to take his eyes from me, he can't help but smile back.
"Savannah's doing a great job so far. I’m sure you are pleased with the results," Guy declares, and Owen's smile fades.
Reluctantly, he turns to Guy. "I am extremely pleased." Extremely? "I know who my go-to girl is if I ever need an extension on the house." I snort, and Owen snaps his head to me. "What's so funny?"
I wave a hand toward the ten thousand square foot house. "Yeah, you really look like you need an extension for that tiny thing."
Both Owen and Guy laugh. "Point taken," Owen replies, shaking his head in amusement. He turns to Guy. "Guy, would you mind leaving us for a moment? There's something I would like to discuss with Savannah…a family matter."
Guy immediately pushes himself off from one of the stable doors and shakes his head. "Of course not." He then looks my way. "Maybe we can talk later?"
I smile sweetly back at him. "Sure."
Owen and I wait as he walks away. As soon as he's out of earshot, Owen turns to me, his face venomous. "What did he want with you?"
Eyes widening, I rear my head back in bewilderment. "Excuse me?"
Owen lets out an exasperated sigh, like I'm the one behaving foolishly. "It's a fucking simple question, Savannah. What does Guy want with you?"
Getting more concerned, I push myself off the stable door, trying to appear bigger. Fuck if that helps me at all. Owen's still a giant whether I'm slouching or on four-foot stilts.
"Why are you talking to me like this? What have I done?"
"Please," he begs through gritted teeth, like uttering the word pains him. "Answer the question."
Not knowing where to look, I swallow nervously, unease clawing up my spine. "He just wanted to talk to me. We had barely said two sentences to each other when you came over. He only commented on the stables."
Owen closes his eyes, letting out a huge breath. He raises his hands, running his fingers through his hair. He looks beyond wound tight. What in the hell's gotten into him?
"Owen, what's wrong?" When he doesn't look my way, I move toward him, grabbing his hands and pulling him to face me. His normally light, sparkling green eyes have turned dark with fire. They're so intense, I'm held prisoner—completely at his mercy. "Tell me," I urge, squeezing his hands in mine.
He bites his lip, indecision and rage marring his features. "I don't want you talking to him."
Bewildered, I take a step back, releasing his hands. For a beat, I stare at him, witnessing the moment his locked jaw loosens and a worried frown replaces his anger. He looks so vulnerable, my anger immediately fades. He's expecting a fight—expecting me to ask why.
And I so want to know why. My heart, body, and mind are screaming at me to ask the question.
But I also know I won't get an answer. Not an honest one anyway. I don't know if I'm mad as hell for doing this, or it makes me the better person, but surprising us both, I approach him, wrapping my arms around his waist and pulling him in for a hug. He stiffens, until I inhale his scent, snuggling my face into his neck. I relish the feel when he slides his hands around my waist and up my back. I close my eyes, trying to cement this moment in my head. I know I have to break away any second now. If I stay much longer and people witness this, they will see it as more than a daughter hugging her stepfather.
They will see it for what it truly is.
Reluctantly, I pull my head away, but only enough to whisper in his ear. "Okay, Owen. I won't talk to him…if that's what you really want." I then land an ever so soft kiss on the side of his neck, causing him to tense in my arms. I break away from him, smiling, but Owen's mouth is parted in shock. He doesn't say anything when I walk away. I make my way back into the house and avoid everyone as I head up the stairs to my room.
There, I wait, and wait, hoping he will finally come to me—finally reveal his true feelings. I had offered him an olive branch and prayed my contribution would help him give a little in return.
I waited.
And waited…
And waited…
Just Like a Pill
Pink
Present
I awaken on something soft underneath me. My mouth is dry, and my chest feels like a ton weight is pressed down, making it hard to breathe. I groan, licking my lips, desperately needing water.
"Savannah? Savannah, thank God, we were worried sick about you."
The fake concern in my mother's voice is not what I want to hear right now. Someone else must be with her for her to speak so nicely to me. But who?
And where the fuck am I?
Squinting from the bright light, I open my eyes to find I'm in a big, white box room. I'm lying on a hospital bed and hooked up to what must be an IV. My mother is sitting on the edge, and Owen is in the corner, his hand stroking his chin like he's in deep thought. He looks like he's plotting to kill someone.
Oh, yeah…me.
"Water?" I ask, wanting to get up. My mother hastily moves off the bed and pours me a drink. "Thanks." I take a swig, closing my eyes. The feel of the cool water down my throat is exhilarating. "What happened?"
"You collapsed at work. The doctor said it looks like you've been kicked in the ribs. You have severe bruising, luckily no broken bones, but it's caused you to have a chest infection. The doctor said you need to be on IV antibiotics, and then, if you're better tomorrow, you can
rest at home."
I swallow nervously and look toward Owen. He won't even look my way. Tears suddenly prick my eyes. I had been so together up until now, but feeling so vulnerable and still witnessing his hatred is too much.
"What happened, Savannah?" my mom asks. "The doctors want to know if it was an assault. They were talking about calling the police…"
"No police," I snap, my eyes widening. When I realize how suspicious it looks, I place my head back down and close my eyes a second. "There's no need for the police," I rasp, trying my best not to cough.
"How on earth did this happen?"
Knowing I had already thought up a plan for what to say, I respond, "It was stupid of me. I was tending to the horses and I went behind Travis and patted him. He kicked out, hitting me in the ribs. I thought I was going to be all right, but obviously I wasn't."
My mother rises from her seat. "I better let the doctor know. He wanted to see you once you were awake anyway. I'll be right back."
My mom disappears, leaving Owen and I in the room together. My heart thumps in response, waiting for the name-calling to come—something that will tear me up inside.
I wait as he sits, shaking his head, but then unexpectedly, he's up and heading toward my bed. He sits down, leaning over me, looking me right in the eyes.
"Who the fuck did this to you? And don't give me that fucking bullshit about horses. None of the horses did this shit to you?"
Tears sting my eyes and start to fall. "I tried to tell you…"
"Tried to tell me what?"
"Terry, he overheard us that night at the party, threatened to tell my mom if I didn't do as he asked. He made me go into the barn and…" I close my eyes as fresh tears start to fall down my cheeks. I don't open my eyes until I say, "He made me touch him down there until he…" I shake my head. I don't want to say the word. "He tried to kiss me, stuck his tongue down my throat. I bit him. He started bleeding and that's when he slapped and kicked me."
"Son of a fucking bitch!" Owen screams, rising from his seat. He paces the room, too sick to even tell him to calm down. Besides, he brought this on himself. "Why didn't you fucking tell me?"
And there it is. No matter his blame, he always manages to twist it around on me. "I tried to tell you…” A sharp stab causes me to clutch my side. “Ow, that fucking hurts."
Trying to talk—hell, even trying to breathe, is killing me.
Owen is by my side, a hand on my shoulder. I shirk him off, not wanting his comfort. I've had enough of that to last a lifetime. A deep frown emerges on his face. I've hurt his precious feelings.
Well, good.
"Savannah, if I had known, I never would have—"
"What, called me a money-grabbing whore? Made me out to be a slut when I had the shit kicked out of me?"
"I should have realized."
"Is that an apology? If it is, you know where you can shove it."
As he's about to answer, my mother and a doctor appear in the window. Owen leans over. "I'm going to do everything in my power to make this right. And Terry…he's a fucking dead man."
"Here she is," my mother sings. "She's finally awake. Please, doctor, make sure my daughter has the very best of care. My poor baby has been through the wars."
Despite hating Owen right now, I give him a look that says, "Can the floor swallow me up now?"
"I assure you, Mrs. Montgomery, your daughter will only receive the best care."
Mom places a flirtatious hand on his shoulder, smiling sweetly toward him. It's vomit-inducing. Even Owen rolls his eyes.
"I'm so happy to hear that." She turns to Owen. "Can we go now? The hospital stink is getting to me."
The doctor frowns at her sudden indifference. Yeah, get used to it, pal. Been this way all twenty years of my life.
"Savannah needs someone here…"
"No, I don't. I need to rest. I want to be left alone." I've only been awake for ten minutes and I'm already tired. Maybe it's the company I'm keeping—or rather, being forced to keep.
"Well, you heard the girl, Owen. Let's go." Mom's already walking toward the door.
Owen looks over at me—our conversation isn't over, but I need it to be for now. I can't deal with him…or anyone, for that matter. Owen grits his teeth, following my mother toward the door, knowing any other reaction will cause a scene and raise suspicion.
"I will come collect you tomorrow."
I don't acknowledge him as he storms out. I'm just glad he's gone. I release a small breath, wincing when pain shoots through my ribs.
"You will be sore for a while." The doctor picks up my board, priming his pen. "Your mom said you were kicked by a horse?"
"Yes, that's right."
"You're extremely lucky you were only bruised, but your lack of bed rest resulted in your infection. You should have come into hospital the moment it happened."
I was too busy stewing over what Owen thought of me to worry about myself. I don't know what that says about me.
"I'm sorry, Doc."
He smiles. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I've been kicked by a horse." I cock my eyebrow, and he chuckles.
“It will be like that for a while. We have you on an IV of antibiotics, so as long as you're better tomorrow, you can go home. You will need to maintain bed rest for a while, though. I think a week should do it."
Great, right when we're at our busiest at work, what with people buying classic cars as Christmas presents and the allocation of bonuses.
"I take it by that look you're not a fan of resting in bed? I would give anything right now for a week of Netflix and ice cream."
A laugh leaves my lips, but I regret it when pain grips my side. "When you put it like that…"
The doctor places a hand on my shoulder. "Get some rest. I'll be back in a couple hours to check on you."
I nod and watch as the doctor walks out of the door. Then I'm left with my own thoughts. Thoughts of Terry, what he did to me, and what Owen accused me of—accusations that are unforgivable. Owen will expect us to pick up from where we left at some point, but right now, all I can think about are his venomous words.
I don't know what Owen and I ever were, but I thought he could at least trust me.
Where can a relationship go if there isn't trust?
Damn I Wish I was Your Lover
Sophie B. Hawkins
Five months earlier
He never came that night. I had gone to bed, frustrated and upset. Not just by his actions, but by my own. Maybe I had taken a step too far. Maybe I have been reading into this the wrong way all this time, and now I have completely embarrassed myself. Whatever the reasons, another week has gone by and our relationship has been strained since. I've been trying not to let it upset me, but it hasn't been the easiest of tasks.
Today is Saturday, and I decide not to let Owen get to me. The stables were finally finished yesterday, and I'm hoping Owen will start to fill them with horses next week.
A faint knock sounds at my bedroom door. I had been sitting on my bed absentmindedly staring at the corner of my room. My heart skips an extra beat, and I get up from my bed and head for the door. I open it slightly, surprised.
"Do you have a moment?" Owen asks, his eyes a dazzling green today.
Mesmerized by them, I nod, opening my door more. "Of course."
"Follow me," he instructs, with what I can only describe as a cocky smile. He has something up his sleeve, and my interest is piqued too much to ignore what he has in store.
"Where are we going?" I'm sure he can hear the smile in my voice as we head down the stairs, but he doesn't turn.
"You'll see when we get there."
I look around the house, noticing how silent it is. "Where's Mom?"
"She's out shopping."
Figures—it's become a ritual in this house now. Every Saturday morning, without fail, Mom goes shopping.
Owen takes me through to the back of the house and out into the gardens. I'm still following, still frowni
ng, not knowing what he’s up to.
Eventually, he leads us to the barn and opens the door. That's when he finally turns to me, motioning for me to go in. "I think you're going to like this," he says, winking.
Those damn butterflies switch up a notch as I walk into the barn. For a moment, I stare at the haystacks. Everything looks like it was yesterday. Then a familiar neighing comes from one of the stables at the other end. My head sharply turns to Owen, a huge grin on his face.
"You got a horse?" He nods, and I jump up, squealing and running toward the stable. Owen laughs behind me, but I’m too focused on the thought of this horse to glance back. My feet move, following the quiet neigh, excitement bubbling with each step. I stop dead in my tracks at one of the doors and when I do, I gasp. A big, proud, white horse stands behind the door, bobbing its head. I reach over, touching its nose. When it neighs at me, I laugh.
"He's beautiful."
"She's beautiful. And she's all yours."
I snap my head to Owen, my mouth parting in disbelief. "What?"
"You know I wanted a stable to fill with horses, and seeing as you oversaw everything, it's only right you get the first horse. I hope you don't mind, but I personally picked her for you."
Stunned doesn't even cover the word I'm feeling. I'm astounded. But my surprise and delight are quickly diminished the moment that familiar sense of longing pits itself deep into my stomach.
"Savannah, what's wrong? Do you not like her?"
Closing my eyes, I dip my head. "Of course I do." I look up, smiling as I stroke the horse—the horse Owen picked out for me—a present he doesn't realize means more to me than he could ever know.
"Then what's wrong?"
I sigh, biting my lip, reluctantly turning away from the beautiful horse and focusing my attention on a bewildered Owen.
"I never expected this from you."
"Savannah, it's only a gift…"
"But it's not, though, is it? This…" I motion toward the horse, "is so much more than that."
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