Chapter 15
Colton
It’s been three days since the night at the pub, three days since one of the most erotic experiences of my entire life. She didn’t even touch me, hell she was halfway across a table—but I have never been so insanely attracted to someone before.
And she wants to be my friend .
I should be jumping for joy, and a large part of me is. But a smaller part of me—my heart, of course—is feeling a little downtrodden. I’ll tuck that away, keep it to myself if it means being her friend. She has an aura about her that draws me in, makes me feel light and warm.
It feels wrong to feel this way about a friend, feels wrong to dream about her too—except it doesn’t, it feels so damn right that it hurts.
I still haven’t managed to figure out what time she eats breakfast at, I would’ve asked her, but the squad seem to have upped their training intensity over the past couple of days. Rory told me that they wouldn’t have time for Friday night drinks, so yesterday he and I headed to the pub on our own, I drove us there and back—he insisted it was to let me practice driving on the other side of the road and not because he needed a DD.
I’ve barely even seen Ellie outside of our shared arena time. Sometimes I’ll wander into the kitchen when her and Sanya are eating dinner with some of their teammates, but our conversations are brief and before I know it, she’s off to a meeting or late-night practice session.
On the work side of things, Edmund and George have been growing a little more adventurous with our trail rides. Some days we’ll be gone for over four hours exploring the estate, scouting the woodland paths and roving the rolling hills. We pack snacks and always take our lassos for a little on-the-job training, though I don’t think the local sheep appreciate that all-too much.
I’ve thought about knocking on Ellie’s door more than I’d care to admit, but I know she’s got to be exhausted. When she isn’t in the practice arena herself, she’s observing her teammates during their practices—Rory told me her coach is real big on this, says they can learn a lot from each other, from watching and analyzing tape of past practices too, and I don’t doubt it.
But after watching Ellie’s routine so much, I know for a fact I wouldn’t be able to do a single movement that she does on a daily basis. Sweetie would throw me to the ground and trample me for asking her to dance for me.
It looks real taxing, the dressage , for both Ellie and Remi. They’re both exhausted every time they leave the arena, most times she hops off and hands him off to a groom before just standing and collecting herself for a few minutes.
When the team aren’t in the arenas, they’re all jammed into the common room where they watch hours and hours of videos, all taken at their practice sessions. I’ve walked past a few times, watching for a second as they all scribble down notes and compare opinions.
I came back from a trail ride yesterday to find Ellie slumped on one of the couches in the common room. She was alone, almost buried under a pile of written notes and instructional dressage books.
I carefully gathered the loose papers, making sure not to jumble them up as I placed them in a pile on the coffee table. The books were next, and damn there were a lot of them—I wondered if she’d read them all from cover to cover. Once she was free of debris, I draped a throw blanket over her, laughing silently as she let out a soft snore before snuggling further into the couch.
I fetched a granola bar and a small bottle of OJ from the kitchen and placed it on the coffee table—like any good friend would do—before I had to leave and meet the boys for our trail ride.
“What do you think, Colton?” Edmund’s voice pulls me from my endless Ellie-related thoughts.
“Run that by me again sport, I didn’t quite catch it.” Sweetie and I are riding at the front of the gang , as the boys like to call it. We’re on a different trail today, sticking mostly to the woodlands on the estate to shield us from the rare-but-mighty British sunshine .
“Do you think,” George pipes up from his position at the back of the gang, “That we should spend Christmas here, with dad, or with our mummy in... Where’s she going to be, Ed?”
“Croatia.” Edmund supplies before adding, “Most of our friends spend it abroad, and we’ve only been to Croatia twice before.”
“I see,” I say as I ponder the question. “One question, why are you boys thinking about Christmas in August ?” I turn in my saddle to look at them.
They’re both wearing their very own cattleman hats, have done since the second day I was here. I’ve also noticed that their outfits have slowly been changing over the past two weeks. On chillier mornings, they wear Sherpa-lined jean jackets, and when it’s warm, they wear plain white tees with blue jeans. They’ve even managed to get their little hands on some western belt buckles. I almost opened my mouth to ask where they were getting all this stuff, when I remembered their dad was able to source them two very well-bred appaloosa ponies—and a washed-up rodeo rider— at the drop of a hat.
“Mummy says we need to make a decision soon because she’s got to reserve tickets and book the hotel.” George supplies.
“Ahh, well, where do you want to go?” I turn myself back round just in time to duck underneath a low hanging branch, I could swear I hear Sweetie huff in disappointment.
The footfalls of hooves fill the air as I wait for their answer .
“It would be easier to decide if mummy and dad didn’t hate each other.” Edmund says quietly.
“Hey, now, I don’t think your parents hate each other.” I say over my shoulder, wincing a little as I remember the way Lord Chamberlain spoke about his ex-wife. “They, well, they loved each other so much at one point they had you two, so I really don’t think they hate each other. But what really matters is that they love the both of you, and they do! It honestly doesn’t matter too much how they feel about each other.”
“Do your parents still love each other?” Edmund’s words catch me off guard and I freeze in my saddle. Sweetie turns her head to the side, watching me with a side-eye as she continues to plod along.
“Well,” I take in a sharp breath, just as a sliver of sunlight finds its way through the leafy canopy to caress my cheek, “Yes, my momma and daddy still love each other, I’m sure of it.” I say as the ray of sunshine warms my face.
“Are they in Texas, waiting for you to come home?” George asks as the ray of sun is blocked by the canopy once more, leaving me far colder than I was before.
“They’re not with us anymore, they’ve been gone for a few years now.” I smile despite the mingling of sad and happy memories. It doesn’t help that I’ve felt more than a little crippled by homesickness these past couple days.
It’s been relatively easy to distract myself, busying myself on the estate and speaking with Wyatt and Meemaw whenever the feeling creeps up, but talking about my parents seems to be deepening my longing for my home.
“They are at home, in Texas, like you said.” I pause, “They’re buried on the ranch that my daddy built, where I live with my little brother and my Meemaw.” I finish in as light a tone as I can manage.
“Oh.” George says quietly.
“What do you m—”
“Buried, like Grandma Agatha.” George hisses at his little brother. “I’m sorry if we made you sad—”
“You did no such thing,” I turn in my saddle again to give them both a smile, “They loved me just like your parents love you both, so I feel mighty confident in telling you that your parents just want you boys to be happy. Pick Croatia or Tewkesbury, there’s no wrong answer.”
They both seem to perk up at that, and not a moment too soon.
“Alright, cowboys,” I say as the woodland grows sparse and lush green peaks fill the landscape ahead. “I challenge you both to a race, last one to the top of that hill has to clean all three of our stables when we get back.”
The words are barely out of my mouth when cries of YAH and GO GO GO sound behind me. Butch and Billy are galloping on either side of me as we break through the tree line, Sweetie stays true to her name and holds back to give the little ponies a chance.
Where did Lord Chamberlain find this horse?
The boys are hollering now, full of excitement and unbridled joy, their laughter like a soothing balm for the aching pain in my chest. I smile through the ache as they reach the top of the hill ahead of me, each of them taking their cattleman hats off and throwing them into the air with triumphant cheers.
? ? ? ? ?
When we return to the stables, the boys insist on cleaning out their stalls, arguing that technically they cheated because they didn’t wait for me to yell go! So, after we wash and brush down the horses, we each clean our respective stables together. George pulls out his phone and plays a handful of Johnny Cash songs while we work. I have to stifle a laugh as both boys try to sing Walk the Line in their British accents.
Manual labor always helps me to focus my mind, and honestly, I’m grateful for the distraction. It shouldn’t be so hard to talk about my parents, but sometimes it is. I don’t know what feels worse, talking about them or the guilt that comes with not doing so.
As we leave the stable block, the boys ask if it’s alright if they spend the next week with their mother—it’s the last time they’re going to be able to see her before she leaves on a Mediterranean cruise for a couple of weeks.
“Fine with me, but take your lassos and practice while you’re away. I’ll test you when you’re back.” I place a hand atop each of their hats and turn them in the direction of the manor house.
I watch them make their way inside before turning and heading for the coach house. I need to get back to my room and call Wyatt, it always makes me feel better to see his face. I’m about to fire off a text to the family group chat when someone calls me from behind.
“Hey, Colton!” I turn to find Sanya jogging up to me with a beaming smile. She’s holding a riding crop in one hand, her helmet in the other and she’s absolutely covered in white horsehair. She makes a half-hearted attempt to brush the hair from her legs as she approaches.
“Hi, Sanya. Just got done with training?” I ask with a smile.
She wipes the back of her forearm against her sweat-slick forehead with a nod. “That obvious, huh? You’re much nicer than Rory, he just told me I needed to spend some quality time with my shower.” She laughs and points towards the coach house before we head in that direction. “Ellie’s in outdoor arena number three for the next couple of hours, you’re not heading there?” She sounds genuinely curious, and I wonder if I need to work on being more subtle with scheduling my own arena time.
“Not today,” I keep that same smile on my face, but I’m sure it doesn’t quite meet my eyes. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it, but I’m not really in the right head space, and if her mom talks to her like shit, I might say something that’ll lose me my job. “I’ve got a couple of things to take care of.” Not a lie—I need to take care of myself, mainly, by calling my family and easing the ache in my chest.
“Got it,” She nods with her own half smile, pausing for a moment before saying, “She’ll skin me alive for saying this, but Ellie is great, you know? Great’s a shit word, she’s fantastic. I’ve never had a friend who truly cares like Ellie does, she’s brilliant.” She looks up at me as we walk, considering for a moment before she continues, “She has to deal with a lot, her mum—”
“The fire-breathing gray-haired woman?”
“The one and only,” She snorts, “The fire-breathing witch puts so much pressure on her, it’s unhealthy, and cruel a lot of the time. I can’t really say much since I live in her house, rent free. Ellie barely has time to think, which is just what her mum wants, I’m sure of it. I know Ellie’s trying but she’s not taking care of herself properly. I’ve barely seen her eat over the past couple of weeks.”
“I thought you’d been eating breakfast with her?” I’d assumed that she and Ellie ate in their rooms since I haven’t run into either of them in the mornings.
Sanya laughs, “It’s rare if I eat before ten AM. You wouldn’t know this since you only memorized Ellie’s schedule,” She jabs me playfully with an elbow, “But all my training sessions are in the afternoon, not a morning person. Ellie on the other hand, she’s up before five most mornings and she runs, like for fun , says it’s good for her mental health. So, she—supposedly—eats before anyone in the coach house is even stirring, then she heads to the stables to tend to Remi. Feeds him, takes care of anything he needs before she heads back and dives right into tape analysis or whatever book her mum has her reading. The grooms love her, one less horse for them to take care of.”
Of course she takes care of Remi herself, that’s what she was doing when I found her sandwiched between a shavings bale and the storage room floor. It’s not shocking in the slightest—I know better than most about how tasks and routines can occupy your mind, keep it from straying to unwanted places.
“I’m sure they do.” I nod with a smile and Sanya gives me a knowing grin.
“She was happy, last Friday.” She says quietly, cautiously, “After the pub, I mean. I couldn’t believe that she actually agreed to go but... it was like she was herself for the first time in a while.”
It had been the first time that I’d driven Rory’s car, he’d insisted, in comically slurred speech as we all exited the pub—fully clothed. Ellie was more than happy to show me the ropes and took great joy in me crawling down the tiny country roads at a cool ten MPH .
Since then, I’ve driven a handful more times and learned that driving on the wrong side of the road isn’t all that hard—but last Friday I found myself asking stupid questions and making out like I was going to turn the wrong way at an intersection to make her laugh.
Her cheeks had been rosy by the time I parked the little car, her eyes were slightly glazed, lips upturned in a smile that looked like it ached. But as we’d made our way back into the dark coach house, I watched as her eyes darted around, as she sunk back into herself and whispered hushed goodbyes before heading straight to her room.
I hold the door open for Sanya as we reach the coach house. Some of her teammates are in the common room, their conversations flow into the hallway as they discuss today’s tape analysis.
“By the way,” She turns to face me with a hand on the banister, her voice low, “I don’t think this is necessary but, I feel it’s only right to tell you that if Ellie gets hurt in any manner because of this friendship .” She raises a dark brow, “I will kick your sorry behind all the way back to Texas.” Her eyes narrow, but she’s smiling so it kind of dulls any trace of fight in her words.
“Ain’t nobody getting hurt if I’ve got anything to do with it, ma’am.” I tip my hat and her smile grows.
“ Very pleased to hear that, cowboy.” She gives me a little salute before trudging up the stairs, her helmet swinging in her hand. “And don’t worry,” She calls over her shoulder, “She’ll be getting the same warning, I think you’re one of the good ones.”