27. Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Seven
BEN
T he familiar scent of hay and horses greets me at the barn. Lena tacks up Shadow, tethered in the alley. The dogs, always quick to announce my arrival, don’t distract her from her task. She doesn’t acknowledge my presence.
All day, I’ve longed to see her. But the sweet lightness of yesterday is lost on her now. She’s busy and upset.
“What’s wrong?”
“Lauren Riley paid me a friendly visit,” she says in a way that doesn’t sound friendly at all. “I want to discuss it, face my problems head-on, yada yada, but I need to calm down first. Ruthie’s upstairs with Dot. Dinner’s in the oven. I’m going for a ride. I need to think and clear my head.”
She heaves the saddle onto Shadow’s rotund midsection but struggles with the girth, one-handed. I assist, securely tightening the thick strap’s belt latches so the saddle won’t slip.
“Thank you,” she breathes, reaching for the leather bridle. She eases the bit gently into Shadow’s mouth and attaches the headgear over his ears. He grunts and flaps his thick lips. She secures his reins in her casted hand while I take hold of the other.
I caress her fingers between my hands, gently insisting on eye contact. She gives in, but anxiety pumps through her like pressure through a hose that’s liable to burst.
“I’ll get River. Let’s ride together,” I say, leery of her riding with an injury and in this worked-up condition. Horses play off their riders’ emotions.
She huffs. “ Now you want to ride with me? Is this what it takes for you to opt in? Me getting upset? Or are you simply curious about Lauren?”
Her harsh look softens with immediate regret. She takes a breath and forces a smile. “See? This is why I need to calm down.”
“Let me come with you. We don’t have to talk until you’re ready… Please.”
She nods reluctantly. She doesn’t want me to accompany her, but once again, she’s accommodating me.
Thirty minutes later, we ride side-by-side at a slow, walking pace down the lane toward the outer trail.
Production has shut down for the day, but hollow-eyed, pale-faced, and black-garbed witches remain throughout the woods, suspended from intricate pulleys.
The trees no longer look like atypical pines but blackened obelisks, bleeding through their bark.
Gauzy drapes form thick cobwebs between branches, entwining mummified corpses.
It’s a much different riding experience than usual.
But the change of scenery is enjoyable, especially with the sun setting behind the branches and glowing against the gold in Lena’s hair.
Touring the property on horseback reminds me how much I adore Saddletree and what she’s created here.
What we’ve created here.
“You should take the job. It’ll be good for you.”
Her calm tone surprises me. She even sounds encouraging. “I’m confused.”
“Why? I’ve thought it through. That’s why I needed the ride—to consider the pros. There are so many pros… I mean, if you want my opinion.”
“Yes, I do, but tell me about Lauren’s visit.”
“She popped in, brought a plant, and reassured me that… it’s the right thing.” Her voice cracks slightly on this last part. I study her as best I can from my side angle. She glances over with a soft smile, and the L clear between her brows.
A downed tree blocks the path, staged for the movie. She steers Shadow over it, and he grunts his disapproval at having to jump. River picks up his pace, wanting to jump it. I pull the reins back, navigating around it instead.
When Lena and I merge together again, she says, more sincerely this time, “If you want it, I want it.”
“I don’t know what I want.”
“Ben, you can’t turn down this job because of me. You can’t .”
“There are multiple factors. We discussed this. What does this have to do with Lauren?”
“Let’s wait and discuss that part with Dr. Reese. Things have been better for us lately… or, at least, yesterday they were. I don’t want to…” She takes another calming breath when we lock eyes. “I don’t want to argue.”
“We won’t. Just tell me what happened.”
With a long exhale, she says, “You spoke to Lauren about your prognosis. They already have a generous recovery plan for you. They truly want to support you through this. With them, you’ll have the best of everything. It sure as hell beats early retirement or working with me, right?”
A wary smile escapes as she swallows her emotion. She’s done this often lately, pushing down what she usually purges. I don’t like it. It’s not her, and it doesn’t help us.
“I want this job for you, Ben.”
“Then, why does it hurt you to say it?”
She nods, amused at how well I read her—it’s not hard.
“I am hurt. You’re right. Again.”
A lone tear skitters down her cheek. She swipes it quickly, holding tight to her calm. I reach for her reins and tug both our horses to a stop to see her lips and expressions clearly.
“Tell me why.”
“ We haven’t discussed the implants yet.
I don’t even know if that’s what you want, let alone have a plan for your recovery.
But I should be your plan, whatever you do.
That’s what I want. But I’m being sidelined for the Rileys.
It hurts that she shows up knowing more about you than I do.
It hurts that you’d share your prognosis with her and make plans without talking to me first. It hurts that you’d confide to her that I’m the reason you haven’t taken the job yet. How could you… betray me like that?”
“Wait. I didn’t confide anything to her.”
She waves her hand dismissively. “How would she know these things if you didn’t tell her?”
“My communications have been with John and Larry. Not her.” I slide my phone from my jeans and offer it to her. “My texts will prove it.”
Her eyes flicker between the phone and me in a debate. “I’m not reading your texts, Ben.”
“I informed John and Larry about my situation in case they wanted to retract the offer,” I explain. “Instead, they devised a recovery plan. I didn’t solicit it. I didn’t indicate any decision because you and I haven’t made it yet.”
Her shoulders release their pent-up tension in a breath. “Shit. I let her get to me again. Didn’t I?”
“Yes.”
Her face relaxes into pained relief, as if ashamed for believing it. “Sorry, Ben. She was so confident and informed. She looked me straight in the eye and told me you said I was holding you back.”
My stomach knots. “I said that, just not to her.”
Her relief is obliterated.
“Oh, I see. So, I am the problem? And everyone knows it.” A sardonic laugh funnels through her obvious distress—she does this sometimes when her emotions come on too strongly for her to contain. “I’ve been as supportive as I know how to be.”
“Yes. I shouldn’t have said it. I’m sorry.”
She shakes her head, tears dripping now. “Did you blame it on my anxiety or my insecurity about Lauren?”
My head hangs. “Lauren.”
She manages a wry smile. “Bet she loved hearing that.”
“It wasn’t for her to hear. I felt pressured to explain my indecision, and it slipped. Lauren is a difficult factor in this—we both have concerns about her.”
“Yes, but you blamed those concerns on me . That’s unfair. What about the rest? Not wanting to give up the badge, the community, and so on. Did you discuss those, too?”
“No.” My head falls again—blaming Lena felt easier at the time. Now, her disappointment guts me.
“What’re we doing here, Ben?” she asks, her voice tired, edging on defeated.
The horses grunt simultaneously as if bored.
“I’ll call John first thing tomorrow and refuse the offer. It’s not going to work.”
“No, you won’t. If that’s what you wanted, you would’ve done it already. It’s not about the job. This is about us.”
I huff and roll my eyes. “It isn’t.”
“Of course, it is.” Her voice is eerily calm as if she’s too exhausted to be angry.
“You’ve blamed me for everything since this started.
You lied about the interview and Lauren because I’m difficult to talk to.
You told me I’m too busy for my family because I’m a shit businesswoman.
You fault me at every opportunity for the studio decision, though I only did it to spend more time with you—time you’ve mostly rejected.
At the picnic, you snapped at me, embarrassed me, and chose Lauren over me.
And your new ‘work family’ thinks I’m so insecure that I’d keep you from your dream job, which isn’t true.
It’s one hurt after another like you want to push me away. ”
“I don’t. I’ve apologized for all those things. I’m sorry for hurting you again—I don’t mean to. It’s unintentional… like my frustration naturally funnels in your direction. It’s not a reflection on you or us.”
“Ben, it’s all a reflection on us. You’re caught between two worlds, and I’m the one you’re pushing away. What does that tell you?”
That this isn’t the world I want? No. Unacceptable. Untrue.
“I want you, Ruthie, and Saddletree—that’s never been the issue.”
“If that’s true, why won’t you spend time with me? Or talk in therapy? Or do what Dr. Reese said?” Her tears stream now. Shadow shifts uncomfortably under her, like he’s pissed at me, too. She wipes her cheeks with the back of her riding glove and takes a breath. “You can’t even talk to me, Ben.”
“I can. I want to. It’s difficult for me,” I defend weakly. “Some things are just… hard for me to say.”
She nods, freeing more tears. “I know, but I need you to say the hard things. I need a little mercy…” Her voice trails off in a small sob.
“I overheard you with Rob. Lauren’s waited for you to come back to her all this time .
She’d be with you in a heartbeat, and you know it.
Everyone knows it. And you can’t even talk to me about her.
It’s like you’re letting me fear the worst because… the worst is true.”
“No! It’s not that at all! That’s your anxiety talking—not me. Stop putting your shit on me!”