Page 88 of Things Left Unsaid

“Fine.”

“As soon as he got out of there, I tried to open the stall door, but Loki was freaking out. All the horses were. It was so thick of smoke in there and he must have been choking already. He reared up and hit me. I’m lucky he didn’t clip me on the head, but I fell down. It took me so long to just regain consciousness. Every time I tried to stand, I nearly passed out from the pain and I’d already inhaled so much smoke too.” She gulps. “I was pretty sure that I was going to die in there, that’s how bad things were.”

“Fuck, Zee.”

“By the time I was able to get to my feet, Loki had passed out.” Her mouth trembles. “I’m pretty sure he was gone. When I ran my hand over his muzzle, he didn’t react. I’ll never forgive myself for failing him. It’s part of the reason why I can’t force myself to shut out those sounds he made. I can still hear him, but I deserve to suffer?—”

“God, no?—”

“Yes.” Her fingers rub her temple. “I only stopped having nightmares about them a few years ago.”

I know what she means. The sounds. The smells. Then, how the roof caved in, the rush of oxygen-stealing heat, trapping our herd inside?—

“I didn’t want to die too,” she rasps. “But it was too late. I left the stall but the last thing I remember is hacking up my lungs. The strain must have been too much. The next thing I knew, I was outside and you were…”

Walking away.

Self-hatred is an old friend of mine, and it rears its ugly head. Especially as I remember finding her in the stables—in the middle of the aisle. Splayed out.

I’d thought she was dead.

The memory of how that shattered my heart has me rasping, “I’m so fucking sorry, Zee.”

“Do you believe me?”

There’s little I couldn’t imagine my father doing to get what he wants. But why he’d want the horses dead is something that doesn’t compute.

“Unequivocally.”

Her throat bobs as she swallows but she lowers her head and starts reading something on her phone.

I let her.

Mind racing, memories flickering to life, I’m torn back to that night.

“Colton? How long until we’re at the ranch?”

Dragged from my thoughts, I check our position, well aware that I need to refocus on my current task before I screw this up too. “Twenty minutes.”

“Thank you,” she says softly.

How she can even stand to be in the cockpit with me is a miracle in itself.

As we approach a pocket of turbulence, I want to reach for her hand but I have less right to do that than I did before this conversation. “It’ll be bumpy for the next few minutes.”

“O-Okay.”

The turbulence is nothing I haven’t dealt with in the past, but it’s almost worth it because while my hands are busy piloting the plane, one of hers settles on my knee. I glance down at it in surprise, but I’m almost relieved when she squeezes it in a death crush.

It might hurt, but after letting her down for so damn long, that I can be her safe space is something I don’t deserve but equallyneed.

Guilt—the fire always engendered it in me because I believed I was partially to blame. Now, I’m well aware of what I damaged and what I lost.

Something that I might never be able to find again.

An hour later, she practically falls into my arms while scuttling out of the passenger seat once we’ve landed.

The weight of her has changed—she’s no longer a kid. All big eyes and bony shoulders. She’s a woman now.

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