Page 107 of Wallflower
It’s all so fucking selfish, which is why she’s ignoring my calls. I can be proud of her at the same time as I’m miserable. What I want doesn’t matter.
“Hey, you.” Charlie stops on the other side of the fence, climbs onto the bottom rail, and leans her elbows on the top. “I didn’t know you were going to be here today.”
I stash my phone and nod toward the horses. “Yeah. Four-day break between games, so I thought I’d come by and see how the new tenants are settling in.”
“No complaints so far,” she replies.
“Good.” I cross my arms and lean back on the fence, more comfortable without making direct eye contact. “Did the woman from that events company call you?”
“She did. We had a good talk about how to use the wine in the warehouse for fundraising. I spoke to Finn, Dylan, and Daisy about it too and they agree all proceeds should go to local charities—not the ranch.”
“I’d be surprised if they thought any different.”
She hums. “Me too. Thanks for setting things up.”
“Thanks for agreeing to take over the planning now that the season’s started.”
“No problem.”
We watch our siblings and the horses in silence for a few minutes, my phone and Violet’s number still on my mind, before Charlie clears her throat.
“Look. I wasn’t going to stick my nose into this because it’s not my business, but given the stunt you pulled with the wine, I figure I’ve earned the right to get involved.”
I cut my eyes toward her, not liking where this is headed. “What?”
“What’s going on with Violet?”
I straighten off the fence and turn to face my sister. My stomach rolls with a sick twist, and it takes work to not sound desperate when I ask, “What do you mean?”
“I spoke to her yesterday, and she seemed a little off.”
My heart lurches with panic and hope, plus a powerful hit of envy, but I try to stay composed. “You talked to Violet? When? Why?”
Charlie spares me a bewildered look. “She called to make sure things were progressing with the beverage supply contracts between Silver Leaf and the Fury arena, and to offer her help if I needed anything.”
Fuck. That’s so like her, and the reminder of her selflessness only makes me more pissed at myself. “What else did she say?”
“Shesaideverything was going well and she wasenjoyingher time in Milan.”
Her emphasis on certain words makes the hairs on my arms stand on end. “Why do you say it like that?”
“Because shesaideverything is fine, and I got the impression that it’s not. She wasn’t herself.” Charlie lifts an incredulous eyebrow. “How do you not know this?”
I frown at her tone and my own frustration. “Because I haven’t talked to her.”
“Uh… why not?”
“Because Milan is something Violet has to do on her own. She doesn’t need me getting in her way.”And she isn’t answering my calls.
Charlie grumbles under her breath—I catch the words “idiot men” and “stupid ideas”—as the sound of galloping hooves drums behind me, and I’m peripherally aware of Daisy pulling Chardonneigh to a stop beside us.
“Are we talking about Violet?” Daisy gracefully swings a leg over the saddle and dismounts from her horse. “Oh, that woman is miserable.”
My heart thumps painfully hard, and all pretense of cool and collected deserts me. “What do you mean? How do you know?”
“I video-called her two days ago.” Daisy strokes the nose of her mare and gazes into the liquid brown eyes like she isn’t delivering the most momentous news I’ve ever been told. “She acts like it’s all under control, but I’ve seen her happy, and Violet isnothappy. She’s quiet and mopey and… I don’t know. Small. Beige.”
“And you agree?” I demand of Charlie.
