Page 13 of Things Left Unsaid

Ignoring his sputtering, I storm from the office, a conversation with my lawyer in my immediate future. I move past him, sticking close because if he wants to have a tantrum, I’m more than willing to brawl.

The weight on my shoulders is always heavy—he may be the head of the company, yet the bulk of the work remains mine. But after giving him that ultimatum, for the moment, the burden of being me is lighter.

It doesn’t matter that I’ll end up having a sociopath in my bed and as the future mother of my heir.

No sociopath could be worse than the one who calls himself my father.

If it gets him offmyland, an arranged marriage is a price I’m willing to pay.

Colt

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO

O Children - Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds

“Psst.”

Blinking, I turn on my booted heel and attempt to locate the source of the sound.

I know who it has to be, but I can’t find her—she’s hiding better than usual.

The soft nickers in the stables, the scents of hay and horse and leather soothe the jagged edges of my grief. Normally, they make me feel calmer, but today, everything’s different.

Tears burn my eyes like acid except I don’t let them fall. Ican’t.

When my granddad passed away, my father taught me that tears are never permitted.

That’s when things got worse.

Now that my uncle’s dead, only God knows how Pops will escalate.

It’s going to be hell.

I burrow the heels of my hands into my eyes. The urge to scream overtakes me, but I know that’ll scare the horses. I don’t want to do that. I want to?—

“Pssssssssst!”

Jerking at the sound, I whip my head to the side.

That’s when I see the bony knees sticking out of the wad of hay in Loki’s stall.

The fact that Susanne McAllister can sit so close to where my horse craps is a testament to how badly she needs a hiding place.

I found her in the stables last year. After her dad’s funeral.

Our families might hate one another thanks to too many accusations of cattle rustling over the centuries, but how could I kick her out? She’d said hergrand-mèrehad shouted at her so she’d run to the only place she knew Juliette McAllister wouldn’t come looking—the Seven Cs.

Ever since, she visits. Always on Tuesdays and Fridays after dinner.

Ever since, I tend to check on Loki on Tuesday and Friday evenings.

Though I’ll admit, I walked in here blindly today.

Stepping inside the stall, I press my forehead to Loki’s and scratch my fingers under his chin.

I know what love is. I love my mum. I love my brothers. I loved Uncle Clay, but the love I feel for Loki surpasses all that.

I guess it’s weird. Loving a horse this much. But I do. I can’t help it. I know Cole, my brother, is the same with his Betsy.

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