Page 99 of Puck and Prejudice

“He’s not going to hate you.”

“Yes, he is! It’s all my fault. I took Cicero off the path, and his leg went through a hole I didn’t see.”

“Dr. Fuentes and I will be there in ten minutes.”

“Okay. I called Jane too.”

Shit. I really wish she hadn’t. Jane needs to rest. But I can’t chide Lydia for calling her big sister. “Are you home?”

“Yes. Please hurry.”

“We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

I turn to Dr. Fuentes and notice her clenched jaw. “It’s going to be bad, isn’t it?”

She glances at me. “Probably. You should prepare yourself.”

Tears well in my eyes. “I’m prepared,” I lie, then look out the window.

There’s no getting ready to saying goodbye to a member of the family.

ChapterThirty-Nine

IZZIE

Three days have gone by since we lost Cicero, and the house feels like a tomb. Dad spent most of the time in his office and refused to check on the other horses. Cicero was his favorite, and I fear it will take a long time for him to heal from the loss.

We’re all sad about it, and Lydia is still blaming herself for the accident. It’s the Fourth of July, but no one is in the mood to celebrate.

I’m off work today, and the first thing I do before heading to the stables is make sure Dad is okay. I bring him breakfast in his office and find him staring at a picture of Cicero and me.

“Good morning, Dad. I brought you something to eat.”

Without looking at me, he says, “Thank you, darling.”

I set the tray on his desk and walk closer to him. “He was such a beauty.”

“He was,” he replies in a choked-up voice, then his face crumbles. “I don’t remember when this picture was taken.”

The sadness in his voice makes my heart hurt even more. “It was my sixth birthday, and you’d promised to let me ride Cicero by myself, remember?”

His bloodshot eyes are blank as he stares at me. He doesn’t remember. “Did you ride him solo that day?”

I nod. “I did. Mom got mad at you for letting me ride him.”

His eyes finally light up. “That’s right. She got downright frightening and made me sleep on the couch that night.”

“She did? I don’t remember that.”

He laughs. “You were already in bed. Crashed hard after eating all that cake and sweets.”

“It was a good birthday.” I rest my head against his shoulder. It’s nice to hear him laugh, even though it’s laced with sorrow. My eyes prickle, but I can’t cry in front of him.

“It was. Thanks for helping me remember.”

I step back and look into his eyes. “Anytime, Dad. Now eat your food before it gets cold.”

“Oh, all right.”

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