Page 52 of My Queendom for a Horse

“It’s a half mile away,” I say. “Aleks!”

He keeps walking.

I circle the car, close the door, and get back in. It takes me thirty seconds to turn around, and by the time I reach him, he’s nearly to the clubhouse. “Stop walking so fast and listen,” I say. “My dad won’t care what you say.”

“I don’t plan to talk to him.”

Aleks is almost as unreasonable as my father. “Stop and listen for a moment.”

He does freeze, his broad shoulders turning just enough that we can see one another’s faces. “What?”

“You have no plan here. If you insist on staying with me, at least wait in the car while I go see him.”

He sets his jaw and shakes his head. “Try again.”

“Fine. You can come in with me, but don’t say anything. Okay?”

He sighs. “Fine.”

I throw the car into a parking spot and climb out. My hands are shaking.

“You’re upset. You should wait here and let me deal with it,” Aleks says.

I shake my head this time. “No, I’ll go. He’s my dad.”

“A lousy father,” he mutters.

I don’t have the strength to argue with him, or the desire really, but he’s the only parent I have. “Just stand behind me, and try to look menacing.” I regret using that word almost the second I say it. I wouldn’t have described Aleks as menacing.

Until now.

He looks downright terrifying, if I’m being honest. He’s never scared me, not as a horse and not as a man. But if I didn’t know him? He’s hugely tall. He’s very Russian looking with his sharp features and black hair. And his eyes are grim. There’s no other way to describe him.

The phrase he used that first day comes back to me. They’ll be much easier to destroy if they come to me first.

To destroy.

That’s not a normal thing to say, but it feels like it fits, in this moment. And I won’t lie to myself and pretend I don’t want someone scary at my back.

I’ve always hated that Dad gambles, but it wasn’t until I was an adult that I realized how much it wrecks our lives. After losing so much—almost everything—why would he come here? He promised me not to gamble any more, and I’m already turning my life inside out to try and fix his mistake. But even so, I know the answer.

Gamblers think they’re always just one hand away from fixing everything. That’s what gets them into the situation to begin with.

I’m angry.

And I’m scared.

The worst people in Daugavpils are likely to be inside. I inhale and exhale slowly, and then I grab the doorknob and yank.

Nothing happens.

Because it’s locked tight.

Of course they wouldn’t just leave it open. I’m an idiot.

But then Aleks is there, one hand removing mine from the door, and his other giant hand tightening on the knob.

“It’s locked,” I say.

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