Page 96 of Riding the Storm
His expression shifts, a shadow passing through his eyes. “That’s me.”
“Charli told me about you.”
He nods slowly, gaze dropping to the dirt. “I figured she might have.”
“She called you a traitor.”
He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t defend himself right away either. Just lets the words hang there between us, heavy as a thundercloud.
Then, finally, he says quietly, “I love those girls. All four of them. Been with Wildhaven Storm since Matty was knee-high to a grasshopper. They’re like family.”
“Family?” I shoot back. “Then why’d you leave them? Oh, wait, I forgot. Ironhorse offered to pay you an ungodly amount of money.”
He looks up, meeting my eyes with a tired kind of sadness. “They did.”
I snort. Taking in his laid-back appearance. There’s nothing flashy or highbrow about him. “You don’t look like the kind of man who would choose money over family.”
“I’m not.”
The words are so simple, so heavy with regret, that I don’t know how to respond.
He lets out a breath and glances toward Midnight Storm, who’s watching us quietly, tail swishing. “Maybe I realized it was time I got out of the way.”
“Out of the way?” I echo.
“Yeah,” he says softly. “Charli’s a great trainer. Always has been. She has a natural ability and a wild spirit, just like Miriam. But as long as I was here, Matty was never gonna see her. And my ego was always gonna keep her under my thumb. I had to step aside so the sun could shine on her. And look at how she’s blossomed,” he says, his voice full of pride. “She’s training a world champion.”
For a moment, the only sound is the rustle of leaves in the cottonwoods and the distant creak of the barn doors.
Caison’s quiet, too, hands resting on his hips.
Giles turns to me again. “Sometimes, loving folks means sacrificing, son.”
I glance at the stallion again, then back at him. “You think they’ll ever forgive you?”
“I don’t expect them to,” he says with a sad smile. “But I hope, one day, they’ll understand.”
He pats Midnight’s neck, then steps back. “Take care of yourself, Bryce.”
He nods once to Caison and climbs into the passenger seat of the truck.
I help Caison load Midnight into the trailer. I stand back and watchit disappear down the long gravel drive until all that’s left is the soft hum of the crickets again.
Midnight Storm’s gone.
And suddenly, the whole place feels emptier.
I turn on my heel and continue my search in the barn and stables, but Charli is nowhere to be found.
The porch light glows soft and warm when I reach the main house. It spills across the steps, catching the swing that hangs from the far corner—Charli’s favorite spot when she’s had a long day.
And there she is.
Glass of wine in hand, hair pulled in a loose ponytail, the wind tugging a few strands across her face. She’s barefoot, her pink-tipped toes dragging across the wood as she pushes off.
For a second, I just stand there, watching her.
She’s beautiful in that raw, natural way—the kind of woman who doesn’t need makeup or fancy clothes to be noticed.
