Page 33 of Don't Take the Girl
My phone pings with a text, and I look down to see who it's from.
Sydney: FaceTime me when you get settled. I want to see the place you're calling home for the next three months.
Laney: You'll be here in two weeks.
Sydney: Yeah, and I need to see if hotel accommodations are in order. She might be rich, but that doesn't mean she has good taste.
I can't help but smile and roll my eyes. Sydney and Asha get along. The three of us have spent almost every weekend and holiday break together for the past three years, living on campus at Louisville, but as much as we all get along, I've always sensed a tiny bit of jealousy from Syd. We were best friends first, and sometimes bringing a new person into the fold isn't easy, but I'm grateful for both of them. Together, they've helped breathe life back into me when living felt like a worse fate than death.
"Is that Noah? Feel free to tell him no boys are allowed. My dad doesn't allow opposite-sex sleepovers," she says as she texts away on her own phone.
"Is that a joke? You're twenty-four," I say, somewhat baffled. "We've lived in co-ed dorms for the last two years."
"Yes, it's a joke," she says sardonically. "But I want you all to myself for a little while." She slides her phone into her satchel and turns to me. "Besides, I don't think you want him here anyway. I'm just giving you an out."
I give her a soft smile and turn my head out the window. She's not wrong. Noah and I are friends, maybe a little more than friends, and as much as I'm grateful for his friendship and support, even when it wasn't easy, I was hoping this summer could be the start of a new beginning, a fresh start for me. I'm here to finish coursework hours to get my certification in Equine Assisted Hippotherapy. I don't know what comes after this—hell, I neverplanned to be here to begin with. I was supposed to be in Dallas, attending Stanley with London, but there was no way I could go without him.
The truth is, I couldn't bear to be anywhere he had been, not after he was taken from me. The first forty-eight hours after I watched the police car disappear, taking my heart with it, were excruciating. I told London I'd fight, and I did. I went straight home to tell my mom what had happened. I told her she needed to take me down to the police station immediately so we could straighten everything out and get him released, but when we got down there, London wasn't there.
He wasn't there because Willow Creek doesn't have a jail. It has one holding cell mainly used for drunks to sleep off their indecent intoxication or to teach chump kids a lesson when they step out of line. It wasn't for holding real criminals, the kind that murdered people in self-defense.
Gah…almost six years later, and I still can't let it go. Too many things went wrong for anything to ever feel settled. I told my story to Sheriff Townsend, the mayor, and the investigator on his case, and every day, they dismissed me, telling me I was wasting my breath because not only were my fingerprints not on the knife, but there was an eyewitness, and London admitted to the crime.
As planned, my mother and I left five days later to go to California. I didn't want to leave. Leaving felt like giving up, but I couldn't stay. Not only did the people of the town stare at me like I was some kind of disease for ruining the bright future of the town's golden boy, but the memories there were crippling. There wasn't a street I could walk down or an establishment I could patronize that he didn't leave his mark on. The sheriff gave me the name of the prison he would be transferred to, and I wrote him every day. I told him how much I missed him, how I hated what he had done, and how I didn't want a life without him. After a month of no response, he finally replied.
Laney,
Please don't write me anymore. I don't want to remember.
London
After everything, that was his goodbye, and I was just supposed to accept it. I'm still just supposed to accept it. I lean my forehead against the cool glass. The month of May always hits me the hardest. It was the month he was taken from me, the month I lost my heart. If I've learned anything since that day, it's that healing comes in waves. This is a moment of grief; it might linger, but eventually, it will pass.
What hasn't passed is Asha's unvarnished truth about Noah and me, still hanging in the air. I exhale a resigned breath. "You're not wrong, though I'm not sure it's him that's the problem."
At one point in our friendship, before there was ever a London and me, perhaps there could have been an us, but not after. I've found comfort and refuge with him over the years, but in hindsight, they were moments of weakness. I needed to feel something, and he was there, but there are some things you just can't get past.
"Oh, it's for sure him. If he were the one, you'd know it. We always know it." I pull in a sharp breath, knowing her words are true, but I fear, just like you can't live the same moment twice, I won't find the same love twice. "Hey." She jabs me in the arm.
"Ouch!" I grab it and look at her, my mouth agape. "What was that for?"
"You need to get out of whatever funk you've been in since we turned off the highway. Cheer up, buttercup. This summer is going to be fun." Her eyes widen, and she clasps her hands together. "We're here!" Asha leans over to look out my window where a palomino is practicing jumps in the riding arena. He's beautiful, but the sight of a chestnut-colored horse grazing freely on one of the far fields with wooded acres behind him has the anxiety I was feeling moments ago fleeting. This might be anothersmall town, but Bardstown isn't Willow Creek. This is my fresh start.
"You’re joking right?That is not a barn. It's a full-on backside," Sydney says as I release the curtain in my bedroom that looks out over the stables. I can tell from her tone that she's impressed. "That place looks like their Louisville property on steroids."
I flop onto the bed in my room. "That property is for entertaining and housing horses actively racing during the season. This is where they breed, train, and bring the horses for their seasonal breaks."
I admit that when the treeline broke and the fullness of the property came into view, I was impressed. I knew the Fairfields had money. I've been to their Louisville property many times. It became a second home to me while I was earning hours for my degree, but this place was unexpected. It's a dream. Working with the horses on this property all summer to get my Eagala certification will be a breeze. I already feel lighter being here.
"And the bed is impressive. It looks like there is plenty of room for me to sleep comfortably when I come to visit."
"I was surprised when I saw a king-sized bed in a guest room."
"You shouldn't be. Breeders like the Fairfields host investors and potential buyers. Some buyers like to stay so they can witness the horse's routine and temperament, plus it's good business. If a breeder is willing to give you that kind of access, they're confident they're elite."
I run my hand over the blue suede material on the comforter. "I'm sure you can get your own room if you want it. I counted three other doors before we reached my room, and Asha referred to this as the house's west wing. If her house is large enough to be divided into wings, I'm certain those doors didn't lead to family bedrooms."
"Nah, you know I like to cuddle." She picks up her glass of wine and tucks her legs beneath her on the couch. "How are you holding up? You look like you've been in your head."
