Page 81 of Demons

“Thatcher,” his father said, but he didn’t turn to him.

“Capri, have you been forced?” My father’s question pissed me off.

I stepped in front of Thatcher. “No, Dad. But if someone was forced, you could say it was Thatcher. I chased him. I flirted with him. What we did and what we are doing now is because I wanted Thatcher Shephard. I wanted him bad. Do you want those details?”

Thatcher’s hand gripping my waist didn’t surprise me. He didn’t like what I was saying, but I knew it would shut them down.

My mother’s eyes widened in shock, and I could see the disappointment in my father’s eyes.

Sorry, Dad, but we never wanted the same things.

“Go ahead and send in the media,” my father said to Ronan, who was by the door.

He didn’t look back at me once.

Not when the media came in. Not when I apologized and assured everyone I was with Thatcher of my own free will. Not when he walked out and left.

He hadn’t said goodbye. Neither had my mother.

I felt a small sting, but not one that would have me running after them. What I had chosen might end up destroying me, but if I could be the one to reach Thatcher, show him love, then it was worth it. He would always be worth it.

• Thirty-Seven •

I wondered if I was the only one to see him this way.

Capri

They were all gone. It was over. Sure, the townspeople would talk, but they’d been making up stories about the Shephards for as long as I could remember. At one point today, the way the sheriff had looked at Thatcher, I’d almost thought he was scared of him. They truly believed the gossip.

Thatcher walked me down to the stables. He wasn’t letting me out of his sight. It was odd, returning here. It had been days, but felt much longer. I’d left here one person and returned another. Everything was different. I stood, watching him talk to Miller, who had Zephyr out at the track. With all that had happened, I’d forgotten about him choosing Carmen to ride him. The race was a week away now. I was disappointed, but it didn’t sting like it had before. Carmen had experience that I didn’t.

I was only a few feet away, but Thatcher kept looking in my direction, as if he was afraid I’d disappear. His need to keep me close to him gave me hope that maybe this thing with us had a future. I wanted it, but with him, that was uncertain.

“You feel like riding today?” Thatcher asked me.

I glanced at Miller to him. Did he mean me riding Zephyr? Perhaps he needed exercise. I nodded, fighting the feeling of failure. I wasn’t good enough to race him, but I could handle his workouts. This had been a long day, and I was tired. My emotions were getting the best of me.

“He’s not been taken out at a full race since Carmen was here two days ago,” Miller said from behind him. “And Carmen still hasn’t made the time that Capri did on him.”

I swung my gaze from Thatcher to Miller. I’d had better time than Carmen? Then, why was he the one racing and not me?

“No,” Thatcher bit out, his expression turning fierce.

“No what?” I asked him.

“You’re not taking him out at full speed.” His jaw ticced as he stared down at me.

“I don’t understand. Why not? If I’m faster on Zephyr, then—”

“No!” Thatcher snarled. “You aren’t riding a horse at that pace.”

Miller said nothing. He wasn’t going to argue with him. No one would. But me.

“Thatcher, why can’t I show you how fast he can go? We would win every race you put him in at that speed.”

He shook his head as his nostrils flared. I’d pushed him too much, and I could see the darkening about to snap. His large hand wrapped around my upper arm, and he began pulling me with him as he stalked back to the stables. Leaving Miller alone with Zephyr. I had to jog to keep up with his long strides. I was missing something here, and I couldn’t figure out what it was.

Did he not want me to win? Was he afraid I’d go race for other stables if I rode Zephyr and won?

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