Page 65 of A Photo Finish
. . . Listen, I think you’re probably angry with me. I’m sorry if I hurt you. That was never my intention. I just . . . I’m complicated. It’s a long story. One I’d like to tell you if you come back.
. . . I think I’m just going to keep writing to you, even if you never come back. I need this.
. . . Talking to you has been the most healing thing to happen to me in years. Please respond. I’ll reciprocate. Sharing much about myself terrifies me. But I’ll try.
. . . I don’t think you’re coming back. But if you do, my offer stands. I want us, or whatever this is, back.
. . . Sometimes I daydream about meeting you in real life. The things I’d do to you.
. . . I miss you.
He’d been messaging me ever since I ghosted him. Even since I moved in with him. Like a diary dedicated to me. My breath left my body with a hollow whoosh. My heart pounded in my ears.
.. . Tonight, I carried your limp body into my house. I know you’re just knocked out from the painkillers, but I felt sick all the same. I’ve carried limp bodies before and the thought of one being yours is almost more than I can take. I fell asleep in the hallway listening to you breathe.
. . . Today you talked me into going out for a drink at some shitty little pub. I had the most fun I’ve had in years.
. . . Today you moved out. I didn’t expect it to hurt this badly.
Tears spring up in my eyes just reading them all. Each one like a pin in my heart. The most aloof, closed-off man in the world turned my heart into a fucking pin cushion with his words, and I don’t even know how to tell him.
I am well and truly speechless. I’ve spent a month in close quarters with this man. A man who I thought didn’t evenlikeme, when the entire time he’s been writing me notes. I’ve been beating myself up over wanting Cole Harding, over going against every fiber of logic in my body that tells me he’s just going to let me down again. Embarrass me again. And all this damn time, he’s been writing me love notes he knows I’ll never see while I try to be hisfriend.
Some girls might swoon. The notesaresweet. So sweet that my teeth ache. But I feel agitated. He could have just told me. It’s not like we haven’t talked about our pasts. Now I feel like a juvenile fool for crushing on him secretly this whole time, tiptoeing around his moods.
If I’d known he missed me, wanted me, I’d have crawled in his lap and kissed him earlier.
I unbuckle Brite Lite’s halter, and she instantly drops her head into the bridle as I easily slide the bit into her mouth. She’s usually so polite, but today it’s like she chomps down on the bit. Goes after it. Takes it, just like we’re going to take this race.
It’s time to put the big brooding soldier out of my mind and focus on kicking Patrick Cassel’s ass in round two. Brite Lite is ready too. I swear she knows this is a revenge round. A rematch. Us girls have a keen sense for that—especially with tools like Patrick.
We walk out into the bright sunshine, very unlike that soggy day just over a month ago. The conditions are perfect.
Billie slinks out from who knows where with Mira in tow.
“All good? How’s Brighty?” she asks, shrewd golden eyes assessing me like she justknowssomething is up. No one reads a person better than Billie.
No one.
“Yup. Let’s do this.” I nod, yanking up that competitive spirit that comes with the territory of being the only girl and youngest sibling of four kids.
Billie gives me a well practiced leg up into the tack before pinching the side of my butt playfully. “Break a leg out there.”
“Billie.” Mira stares at her, unimpressed. Which, to be fair, is her go-to expression. “Really?”
Billie cackles and walks ahead but freezes in her tracks when we hear a smooth, slightly accented voice say, “Good luck out there today, Miss Eaton.”
Stefan Dalca. The other big player in the horse racing scene out near Ruby Creek. Everyone thinks he’s sketchy, and Billie hates his guts after he tried to bribe Vaughn into selling DD. Which would have been a huge mistake. Not only because the ranch would be without our championship stallion, but Vaughn would be without Billie.
“Dalca, you piece of . . .”
I sit up poker straight, a little worried that Billie might go off. She’s a bit of a live wire that way, but Mira steps in front of us and turns her unimpressed expression on the suit-clad man in question.
“Stefan, walk with me.” She crooks a finger and heads in the opposite direction without even looking back. Like she just knows he’ll follow. To his credit, the usually perfectly curated man looks a little shaken. He tugs at the lapels of his suit jacket and clears his throat before spinning on his heel and striding away.
Billie makes a gagging noise, and I giggle. I know how much she detests the man. But I’m thinking he should be a little more scared of Mira at this current juncture. Billie might be the unpredictable firecracker of the three of us, but Mira is smart, cunning, and wily. Billie you’ll see coming because she’ll burn it all down around herself to take you out. But Mira? I think you’d be down for the count before you even knew she was there.
Tonight, I am going to channel my inner Mira. Sweet and quiet Violet isn’t here right now. Patrick Cassel is going down in the only way I can take him down.
