Page 27 of A Photo Finish
She flinches at the bite in my tone, and I’m instantly filled with self-loathing. “Okay. So, I really only told Billie. I didn’t know Vaughn was listening.”
My skin crawls with embarrassment, like that feeling when you have a bug inching its way up your spine but can’t quite reach it. My leg aches, like it often does. This was never supposed to happen. My sex life was supposed to stay perfectly compartmentalized on the internet where no one gets to see me. Violet was supposed to stay firmly removed from my real life. She was never supposed to crop up as a mainstay in the family business.
Panic courses through my veins as I see my perfectly-laid facade crumbling. Just one little crack in the corner is going to lead to more questions. When one brick falls, the others will follow, torn down by questions I don’t want to answer.
I know I’m fucked up. The last thing I need is everyone around me knowing too. And this bombshell is more than I’m equipped to handle. I get up woodenly, not saying a word, and walk away.
That’s enough of this shit for one day.
* * *
The phone issilent for several beats, and then it fills with a raspy, maniacal cackle. “The woman isliving with you?” Trixie gasps out, making me bang my head back against the brass bars of the bed frame. This place is like a fucking doll house.
“I don’t pay you to laugh at me, Beatrice.” I pay her because Ineedher. She’s the first call I made this Saturday morning when I woke up after a shitty, fitful sleep. A sleep full of dreams about all my deepest, darkest secrets being spilled to the world. Dreams about Violet’s naked body spread out before me. Dreams I can’t afford and don’t deserve.
“And she told your brother and future sister-in-law about how you both met?” She may not be laughing, but I can still hear the amusement in her voice.
“Yes,” I grumble.
“And then she told you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you can’t fault the girl for her honesty.”
“I think I would prefer a little dishonesty in this case.”
“Oh no, you don’t need anymore of that in your life.”
I look out the big window across the vast field toward the barn.
“Why don’t you let me—” my eyes snag on something in my periphery. I jump out of bed and take a few hops over to the window, gripping the crown molding with one hand.Why the fuck is there a horse in my yard?
“I gotta go. I’ll call you later.” I hang up, but not before I hear Trixie say something about not being at my beck and call.
I get myself ready, throwing on the same T-shirt as yesterday, before heading downstairs and out the front door, straight to the paddock that has been sitting gloriously empty until now. I eye up the scrawny brown horse inside and then notice the paper rolled and shoved into one ring on the halter that’s slung over a hook.
I pull it out, confused and annoyed.
Hey Vi,
I know this isn’t how you saw your year going. I know setbacks are frustrating. So does Pipsqueak here. Do you remember her from a couple of years ago? Apparently, she was a preemie foal that was touch and go there for a bit. Anyway, she’s two now, and she’s a fighter. Small but mighty, just like you.
I know you can’t ride right now, but that doesn’t mean you can’t work. I’d like to see what she’s got. Mind getting her started for me?
Love,
Billie
No. No fuckin’ way am I living with Violetandwith a horse. I’m not above admitting this is thoughtful of Billie. I can’t fault her for that. For me, though? This can’t happen. I turn and storm back up into the house, note in hand.
The door slams behind me. “Violet! Get up!” My voice is sharper than I intend, but my life is completely out of control, and I’m panicking. That ends now.
I hear a small squeal from the other side of her door, followed by a thump, and I instantly feel like a dick for not keeping my cool. When the door opens, she’s already dressed and pulling an earbud out of her ear. “What? What’s wrong?”
I shove the note at her as if it will clearly explain what’s wrong. Violet takes it from me, one dainty hand reaching out to remove it from mine. Her eyes are wide until she recognizes the writing, and I watch her feelings dance across her face. She’s so expressive, it’s like she could tell me a story without saying anything at all.
Tears spring up over her irises, usually the color of the sky and now more of an indigo as they darken with emotion. Her long lashes blink rapidly, as though she could sweep the tears away with them. One side of her perfectly heart-shaped mouth tips upward, sadly. And then slowly the other side pops up to match. The smile is small, but the impact on me isn’t.
