Page 34 of Score to Settle
I’m still warm and fuzzy from the wholesomeness of Jake’s volunteering when we make our way back to the truck. Above our heads, the sun has been swallowed by the clouds. We’ve got about another hour before the rain starts. Jake is quiet but I catch him glancing my way, like he’s trying to read me.
“I could murder a coffee,” I say.
“I know just the place.” He swings the duffel bag into the truck and whistles for Buck to follow, leading me through the park to a coffee stand by a pavilion. We grab two tall, steaming cups of coffee and wander through the park with Buck trotting between us. The coffee is strong and bitter and just how I like it.
“Why does no one know about this?” I ask.
He shrugs. “It’s not their business.”
“But…” I choose my words carefully. “This is exactly the kind of thing that would completely reinvent your reputation. It’s just… so fucking nice of you.”
He huffs a laugh.
“Seriously,” I push.
He shakes his head. “It’s not a publicity stunt, which is exactly what people will think if I start posting it on my socials.I can’t stop the people who come here from talking about it, but I’m not going to advertise what I’m doing here.”
“Why not?”
He gestures across the empty park. “You think it would be quiet like this if people knew? You think grieving families want groups of fans turning up? I know what you’re saying, but this is too important to me, Harper.”
“I get it,” I say quietly. “I won’t write about it.”
We walk through the park, talking about some of the children he’s helped over the years. His passion lights him up and I still find myself blindsided by this side of Jake.
We’re right in the middle of the park when the first heavy droplets of rain hit. Instantly a wall of water falls from the sky and we’re drenched in seconds. Thunder rumbles over our heads.
“Shit,” Jake hisses. “Come on.” We drop our cups in the nearest trash can and Jake grabs my hand, pulling me toward an underpass that leads us under a concrete bridge. There’s colorful graffiti on the walls depicting a sunset and the Rocky Mountains. Above our heads is a road that cuts through the park. It’s not the most glamorous of places, but it’s out of the storm.
Buck shakes the water from his fur, sprinkling us with more raindrops. It makes no difference. I’m soaked through, water dripping down my face. I must look like a drowned rat whereas Jake, with wet clothes clinging to every line of defined muscle on his torso, and his hair drenched and falling over his face, looks so good it’s criminal.
A streak of lightning cuts across the sky followed by thunder so loud it sounds like the world is cracking open above our heads. Buck barks then whimpers, cowering at our feet. Jake crouches down against the wall, rubbing Buck’s back and whispering in his ear.
“I don’t like storms either, Bucky,” he says. “We’ll be OK here.”
“Why don’t you like them?” I ask, taking a seat on the ground on the other side of Buck and giving his damp fur a reassuring pat.
Jake is silent for a while and I think he’s going to make a joke or deflect, but he doesn’t. “My dad died in a storm,” he says.
“I’m sorry.” Sympathy rushes through me.
“It was the October I was ten. The weather had been so good it felt like summer was never going to end. When the storm hit, we just weren’t ready for it. It seemed like one minute the sun was setting and everything was perfect. The next the storm clouds were rolling off the mountains and it went so dark so fast it was like someone turned off the lights.
“The horses were still out in the paddocks. I remember the sound of their hooves hitting the ground as they ran in circles, restless and scared. The rain was like this.” He nods toward the park as another streak of lightning cuts through the sky. Buck gives a whimper at the next roar of thunder, and Jake and I huddle closer, hugging him from both sides.
“Dad went to put the horses in the barn. Dylan and I ran after him to help. Mama wanted to come too, but Chase was trying to join us and he was too little to do anything but get in the way, so she stayed in the house with him. It was like diving into the lake. You couldn’t hear anything but the rain and the storm. I could barely see my hand in front of my face.
“We got to the paddock and I went to get my horse, Dolly. She was a really gentle mare. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. But Dad was already leading her into the barn. So I went to get his horse, Trigger. He was a lot bigger and the thunder had started by then so he was skittish. As I reached for the bridle to lead him in, I slipped on the wet grass and Trigger reared at the sudden movement. I remember seeing those huge front legs in the air,about to come pounding down on me. Dad pulled me out the way just in time, but one of Trigger’s hooves caught the back of his head.”
He pauses, his throat moving as he swallows. Goosebumps rage across my skin and it has nothing to do with the cold.
“The injury didn’t seem that bad,” Jake continues. “He said he was fine. We got the rest of the horses in and Mama made us all hot chocolates. I remember we were laughing about it. Everything was good. Dad seemed OK.” Jake’s voice cracks and I slip my hand into his. His fingers entwine with mine and he squeezes his thanks. “We went to bed and Dad never woke up.”
“What happened?”
Jake takes a breath. “The blow to the head from Trigger’s hoof caused a delayed brain bleed in the night. He died in his sleep.”
Hurt radiates from my chest. “I’m so sorry. That must’ve been really hard for all of you.”
