Page 91 of A Photo Finish
I bristle. The thought of causing Violet pain causes me pain instead, like a heavy punch to the gut. Shrapnel to the leg. “Not if I can help it,” I grumble.
“Okay, good. So, what’s the hold up?”
I tap my temple, mimicking the way she did it before. “Everyone thinks I’m fucked up from the war. But I’ve worked on that. I’ve got that part under control, for the most part. It’s the sight of my dad falling to his death on the track that haunts me. It’s what I see every time I watch Violet race. It’s what I worry about every day when I know she’s up on a horse. What if it happens to her, too? It’s the question that plays on repeat in my mind. I want to be her biggest fan in one breath, and in the next, I don’t want her on a horse at all. Which I know is a dick thing to admit, but it’s the truth. I need to figure out a way around that.”
Billie spins the bottle in her hands. She looks like she’s completely ignoring me, and she’s quiet for long enough that I seriously question if she even heard me blabbing about my feelings.
“Okay. So . . . are you afraid of losing Violet, or are you afraid of horses?”
“I’m . . . ” My knee-jerk reaction is to say that of course I’m not afraid of horses. I grew up around them. But something stops me as I mull over the question. “No one has ever asked me that before.” Am I? Afraid of horses? Does my fear stem from not understanding what she does more than my fear of losing her?Fuck.“Can I be both? I used to ride with my dad, and I wasn’t scared then, but I don’t know anymore.”
“Yeah, man. You can be whatever you want to be. Except her number one fan, because that’s me. You’ll have to fight me for it. But if you don’t fight me for it, some other guy will. Is the risk of her maybe, possibly, improbably, one day dying worth having to watch that? The family, the wedding, the babies?” She groans. “Ugh. Violet will probably make the cutest babies.”
What. The. Fuck? Leave it to Billie to drop the most devastating emotional truth bombs possible. I feel my cheeks heat and my heart pound. That blood pressure? It’s right back up where it started. “No fucking way. No chance. That can’t happen.”
Billie smiles and leans her elbows back on the step behind her, looking so damn smug. “Good. Ready to put in some work? Because I have a plan.”
A Billie plan? I am equal parts invigorated and terrified. As she lays it all out, that terror turns to dread. I’m not sure I’m up to it, but I’m sure as shit going to try. She only stops talking when Vaughn pulls up in his stupid sports car.
“Everything okay? Did someone die?” he asks, looking concerned as he steps out quickly.
I guess from his perspective, it’s weird that Billie and I would have a beer together when we’re usually like water and oil.
“Everything is great, except for the fact you continue to insist on driving that car out here. You look like a total tool. A hot tool, but still,” Billie quips back quickly, earning a sly grin and brow waggle from my brother.
As he approaches us, Billie stands and hands me her empty beer bottle. “I need to, uh... go talk to Mira about the construction on the clinic.”
Bullshit. She’s clearing out so that I have to talk to Vaughn. She saunters up to him, ignoring the suspicious look on his face—apparently, he’s not buying it either—and plants a quick kiss on his lips before slapping his ass and continuing to her truck. These two are perfect for each other.
“Hey, man,” he says to me as he approaches. “Want another beer?”
I see my micro and macro counts go out the window, but it’s not every day you have this conversation with your little brother.
“Sure. Why the fuck not?”
28
Violet
It’sPippy’s maiden race day, and I should be excited. But instead I’m pissed off and a little sad.
I still haven’t heard from Cole. It’s been two damn weeks, and Istillhaven’t heard from him. Billie keeps telling me not to worry about it, and I’ve asked her a couple times if she knows something I don’t. Her answer is always, “No.”
But for once, I hope she’s lying to me.
I shouldn’t have given him a deadline. I shouldn’t have put this pressure on him. I shouldn’t have fallen in love with him. But here I am, taking all that frustration out on Pippy’s coat, trying not to feed her all my anxious energy and failing miserably. Everyone knows I’m in a mood. Billie, Hank, Mira, Vaughn—they’re all ignoring me. Pippy though, she’s just stuck with me. And luckily, she’s the happiest, most laid-back little horse on the planet. She’s like an eternal optimist. I guess when you’re born as early as she was, just surviving is an accomplishment, something to be proud of.
I need that optimism to rub off on me because I feel like a storm cloud right now. The good part of that is my killer instincts are in overdrive. I want to win. I want to brutalize the competition. I want to prove to everyone I’m not a ditzy blonde. I’m the woman who took a horse that no one thought would race and turned her into a winner.
All Pippy’s breezes have been solid lately. Her health is excellent. She’s unflappable. But you neverreally knowuntil you get a horse on the track. Sink or swim.
I threw myself into the deep end a couple of years ago, and today it’s Pippy’s turn to do the same.
“Miss Eaton?”
I start and then turn with a scowl to face Stefan Dalca, who is standing at the entrance to our grooming stall. I have to hand it to him. The guy must have a real pair on him showing up in the Gold Rush Ranch shed row with how most of us feel about him.
“Why do you insist on talking to me before a race? It’s not a good time. Do you know nothing about this sport?”
