Page 1 of Something Unavoidable

“Isaac!”

“Isaac, can I get a comment for theChronicle?”

Heads were turning, people staring. Not that it was anything new. Izzy kept his focus on the grass warm-up ring and the horse beneath him. He slowed Blackbird to a walk and loosened the reins, encouraging her to relax and stretch out her neck. Calm but focused was the goal today.

The horse world—who were all thirteen-year-old girls at heart, regardless of gender—loved its gossip, and the abrupt retirement of a highly respected, top-level eventing trainer was fresh and juicy. Especially when that trainer was only in his late forties and considered a shoo-in for next year’s Olympic Chef d’Equipe. So far, no one was talking to the press, and the reporters were getting pushy—desperate for the “real story” behind why their coach had left them only weeks before the final qualifier.

But Izzy was ignoring all that. He was focused forward, on what came next. He couldn’t afford to look back. Not today. He’d lost too much in the last few weeks to let this slip through hisfingers too. Besides, he had something to prove. Not to the world—to himself. He deserved to be here.

He shifted Blackbird’s reins to one hand and stroked her glossy neck, wishing he could feel her warmth through his gloves. She pulled in a deep breath, her sides expanding under him, then blew it out in a sigh, shaking her head as she relaxed. Izzy’s lips twitched, and the ball of worry in his chest loosened a little. “We got this, baby girl. You and me.” He bent down and pressed his cheek to the crest of her mane, shutting his eyes for a moment and matching her breathing.

“Izzy,” Emma called.

He opened his eyes and sat back, flashing the other eventer a reassuring smile. It faded at the sight of her wet, red-rimmed eyes and the pinched corners of her mouth. “What is it?” he asked, steering Blackbird closer to her as she stepped up on the bottom rail of the fence, her fingers bleaching white as she gripped the top. Izzy’s breath hitched as his tension came rushing back. “Emma? What’s wrong?”

Movement behind her caught his attention, and his frown deepened as Samantha and David hurried over, Stewart chasing after them. No one looked happy. Izzy swallowed down the bile creeping up his throat. He tried to meet Sammy’s eyes, but she was focused on his horse.

“I…” Emma paused, her lips parted as the word died in her throat. She startled as Sammy reached them and grabbed her elbow. After exchanging a long look, Emma turned back, her eyes welling with moisture that she blinked away. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Izzy frowned. What the hell? He turned his attention to David—the designated “old guy” at their training center—who shrugged, his lips pressed into a tight line. What the fuck had happened now? Clearly, it was something bad. Something thatwould take his head out of the game if Sammy and David were trying to keep Emma from telling him.

Stew—whom they’d just unofficially promoted from assistant to head trainer—reached them, red-faced and out of breath. “They’re about to call you to the box,” he told Izzy, expression a mask of sympathetic earnestness. “You need to stay focused.”

As if Izzy didn’t know that.

He looked to Sammy again. Of the group that trained together outside of Boston, he’d known her the longest. They were friends—at least, he hoped they were still friends. He didn’t think she’d turn against him, even after everything.

She finally looked up, her blue eyes fierce as they locked on his. “He’s dead.”

Izzy’d had this dream before. He blinked a few times, but nothing changed. The sun was still warm on his shoulders, the sky bright and blue, the grass almost unnaturally green. He shook his head.

He watched, numb, as Emma’s tears spilled over and streaked down her cheeks. David looked troubled, a crease forming between his eyebrows. Stew pulled off his hat and ran a hand through his damp hair, making it stand up at crazy angles. He eyed Izzy like he was waiting for the explosion.

Izzy forced his gaze back to Sammy. “How?”

She drew in a steadying breath, her trembling lower lip the only thing giving her away. “Hanged himself in the training barn back home,” she forced out, her eyes boring into Izzy’s, like she was daring him to look away. “They found him this morning.”

Izzy nodded. That checked out. There were three things Josh loved more than anything—attention, control, and winning. His forced retirement had taken all of that from him, so it was no surprise he’d found a way to get some of it back.

Izzy huffed a painful laugh that almost didn’t stop. He should have known Josh would never take responsibility for what he’d done. Never be held accountable.Fuck. Fucking selfish bastard.

Blackbird tossed her head and shifted impatiently, distracting Izzy from the black hole of his thoughts. Right. Shit. He didn’t have time to lose it the way he wanted. He was about to attempt one of the most important rides of his career. The 5 star cross-country course at Oxford Park had no space for the mental breakdown he so desperately needed. Instead of cracking, he buried everything deep and adjusted his seat in the saddle. “Good,” he answered belatedly. “It’s over then.” He checked the time. The steward would be looking for him.

Stew straightened, concern deepening. “We can request a later start. Give you time to process.”

Izzy ignored him. “How is the course looking?” he asked Sammy, grateful when she seemed to understand. The last thing he needed right now was to stop and think. Josh was dead. It was better this way.

“Watch the footing coming off the first water effort. It’s getting muddy. A few have stayed wide and almost went down,” Sammy told him, her face tight and unreadable.

Izzy breathed deep and nodded. Focus. He needed to focus. He would have time for everything else later. “Got it,” he acknowledged. They’d expected the safer route to turn into a mud slick. Birdie was agile, though—they’d opt for the tight, inside turn and stay far away from danger.

“On deck, Isaac King.”

Izzy gathered his reins. He was next. He made the mistake of looking at Emma as he turned to go.

She wasn’t sobbing or anything, but her pale face and the silent slide of tears down her cheeks put a crack in the battered wall guarding Izzy from a storm of emotions. He couldn’t dothis right now. He needed to keep everything locked down. He looked away.

Fuck, she was young—barely nineteen to Izzy’s twenty-one. She’d been a few months past her eighteenth birthday and still competing at the intermediate level when Josh started training her and immediately moved her up to advanced. Izzy had questioned him about it, but Josh had brushed him off.

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