Page 42 of Ace of Spades
She does just that, taking in a deep breath in order to calm down.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask.
“Hailey made me promise not to since you two haven’t exactly been on good terms. She thought that if you found out, you might get mad and make her go find somewhere else to park her trailer and she has nowhere else to go right now.”
I want to ask her why Hailey is no longer staying at her house, and what she meant by Hailey not being able to afford things, but I decide I need to talk to her myself.
“Stay here,” I tell Kota, getting to my feet.
“Where are you going?”
“To find Hailey.”
“What? No, Wes, you can’t! She’s already having a bad night, please don’t make it worse for her,” she begs, her tone panicked.
“I said stay here, Kota. Let me handle this, okay?”
With that, I leave her there, making my way down the steps and back behind the chutes, all the way through the warm-up area until I get outside.
I look around the grounds, spotting Hailey dismounting her sorrel mare, her shoulders slumped and chin down.
“Sorrels!” I yell, striding towards her.
She turns around and sees me, immediately turning away and leading her horse in the opposite direction.
“Hey,” I say as I catch up to her, taking place walking alongside her.
“I’m not in the mood right now, Weston,” she says, refusing to meet my eyes. I can tell she’s exhausted—not justphysically, but mentally and emotionally. Something in my chest tightens from seeing her this defeated. All I know is that I don’t like seeing her like this, not one bit.
“You’re moving into the ranch,” I tell her.
“What?” she asks as she turns to face me, clearly not expecting that.
“I said you’re moving into the ranch. Like, as soon as we get back to Montana. Kota told me about you living at the trailer park and about something messing with the horses, you can’t keep living like that. And you need an arena, you’re a pro athlete that needs to be working your horses every day.”
“You don’t think I know that?” she spits, but there isn’t the usual amount of bite to her tone.
“Then come to the ranch. We have an arena, and stables that are actually secure. We have trail cameras throughout the property to keep an eye out for wild animals, and the entire property is gated. You wouldn’t have to worry about anything.”
“Why?”
“Why what?” I ask.
“Why do you want me to move to the ranch?”
“Because I hate the idea of you staying at the trailer park by yourself.”
“Your mom lives there by herself,” she points out.
“My mom lives in the front of the trailer park and is surrounded by neighbors that she’s known for years. The back of the trailer park—through the woods, where the hookups and stalls are—it’s sketchy back there. You don’t know who or what is lurking through those woods.”
She seems to consider my words, thinking it through.
“You don’t have electric and water hookups for my trailer,” she states. “I don’t want to take up a room at the bunkhouse. I can’t afford to pay rent right now, especially now that I blew my chances of making money tonight, and I refuse to stay there for free. If I’m staying at the ranch, I’m staying in my trailer, and I’m paying for any water and electricity that I use.”
I don’t let myself linger on her statement about not having any money right now. I’ll just have to figure out the meaning behind that one later.
“We have trailer hookups,” I tell her.
