Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The rumble of a diesel engine filtered in through Enya’s open window. She turned from the mirror, where she’d been picking at the split ends of her hair, and peered into the yard at the truck and trailer rolling up the drive. Her pulse kicked up, thrumming in her throat.
Who is that?
She leaned closer, squinting against the late afternoon glare. The driver’s door swung open, and a man stepped out—tall, broad-shouldered, moving with the same easy confidence.
Is that Rowan?
Why is he here?
But then the man turned, and the light caught the jagged scar running from his temple down his cheek, pulling his lip into a permanent sneer.
That’s not Rowan.
Who knew the first real emotion I’d feel other than fear would be disappointment that his brother is here and he isn’t.
Enya’s fingers curled against the glass. She had no idea why he was here, but she watched her dad leave the house to greet him. Her father’s voice drifted in from outside. “Did you get lost? We were expecting you at noon.”
“Nope, trailer got a flat on the highway, I had to fight it to change it out.”
“Damn, sorry about that,” her dad replied. “You want something to eat or some coffee?”
“No, sir, I should be heading on home, so we can settle him in before dark. Thanks for the offer, though.”
“Come with me then. He’s in the corral.”
Gael’s reply was lost in the wind as the two men climbed into his truck and drove toward the barn.
Enya exhaled, her breath fogging the glass.
Who is he here for?
Realization slammed into her; the only horse in the corral these days was Rain.
No.
He can’t.
He wouldn’t.
But I knew he would.
The bed shifted as she sat down and wrapped her arms around herself. Enya from before would have lost her mind. She’d have marched out of this room and given them what for, demanding they leave her boy alone. She was tempted, oh so tempted, but she just couldn’t do it.
She could hear the distant clatter of hooves, the low murmur of voices drifting toward the house from the barn.
Just go.
Tell them they can’t have him.
But the floor might as well have been quicksand. Even when she heard the trailer door bang open and Rain whinny, high and uneasy, she couldn’t make her feet move. She flinched when Gael’s truck roared back to life.
Enya launched herself off her bed and threw herself across the room just in time to see the trailer roll past, taking her heart horse with him.
“Rain.” The whisper ripped out of her mouth. “Oh my god, Rain.”
The trailer disappeared down the drive, dust rolling up behind it in a thick column that hung in the still air, and Enya pressed her forehead against the glass hard enough that it should have hurt, but all she felt was the cold seeping into her skin and the hollow ache spreading through her chest like someone had carved her out with a dull blade.
Rain is gone.
Her horse, her heart horse, the one thing in this whole goddamn world that had never asked her to be anything other than what she was, and she’d just stood here and watched them take him.
Her knees buckled, and she slid down the wall until her backside hit the floor, the carpet scraping against her palms as she tried to catch herself, and she couldn’t stop the sob that ripped out of her throat.
“No, no, no, no.” The words spilled out in a broken rhythm, her breath coming in sharp gasps that burned in her lungs. “I didn't, I couldn't, I should have—”
Done what?
Marched downstairs and told them to stop?
Faced her dad and demanded he explain why he was selling off the one piece of her life that still made some bit of sense?
The girl who could have done that was gone, buried somewhere in the wreckage of the horror of three months ago.
She knew it, and she knew her dad knew it too.
Enya wrapped her arms around her middle and rocked forward, her hair falling around her face in a curtain that shut out the world, but it didn't shut out the sound of Rain's whinny echoing in her head or the image of the trailer rolling past with her whole heart locked inside.
I didn’t think he meant it.
Rain. My Rainbow boy. I’m so sorry.
The door downstairs slammed, the sound hard enough to cut through the fog in her head, and her dad’s footsteps moved through the house toward the kitchen.
The rage that spiked through her was so sudden and so vicious that for half a second she could breathe again, and could feel something other than the suffocating weight of fear and shame and helplessness that had wrapped around her throat for months.
Get up.
Go downstairs.
Make him bring him back.
But the anger flamed out as fast as it had flared, leaving nothing behind but the cold empty space where it had been, and Enya tipped her head back against the wall and stared at the ceiling until the tears blurred her vision and spilled down her cheeks in hot tracks that dripped off her jaw and soaked into the collar of her shirt.
She didn't wipe them away. There was no point. She’d learned the hard way that tears never did anything.
They didn’t help. They only showed people how much they hurt you.
She heard the creak of the fridge opening, the clink of a bottle, the low hiss of a cap being twisted off, and then silence.
He’s sold my Rain, and he’s drinking beer?
He doesn’t even feel bad about it.
Jerk.
Enya pushed to her feet, her legs shaking hard enough that she had to brace one hand against the wall, and she crossed the room on unsteady steps.
Her door was still open; she should close it, lock it, crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head, and disappear into the darkness where nothing could touch her.
But instead she found herself stepping into the hall, her bare feet silent on the worn hardwood, and moving toward the stairs like something outside herself was pulling the strings.
The kitchen was at the end of the hall, past the living room with its sagging couch and the TV that was always on and the pictures on the mantle that showed a family that didn’t exist anymore, and when she reached the doorway, she stopped, her hand curling around the frame hard enough that her knuckles went white.
Her dad stood at the counter with his back to her, one hand wrapped around a beer bottle.
Say something.
Ask him why.
Make him look at you.
But the words stuck in her throat, thick and choking, and all she could do was stand there and stare at the back of his head and wonder when he’d stopped being the man who used to swing her up onto Rain’s back and tell her she could do anything she set her mind to.
He tipped the bottle back and drained half of it in one long swallow, and when he set it down on the counter, the sound was loud enough to make her flinch.
“I know you’re standing there, Enya.” The tone of his voice told her that he didn’t want to have this conversation any more than she did. “You got something to say, say it.”
Her mouth opened, but nothing came out, just a thin breath that barely made it past her lips, and she hated herself for it. She hated who she’d become, someone who couldn’t even speak up for the things that mattered.
He turned around, and the look on his face was everything she didn’t want to see—exhaustion, frustration, and something that might have been regret if she squinted hard enough.
His eyes swept over her with the same assessing gaze he’d use on a horse that wasn’t eating right.
“He's not gone for good.” He set the bottle down and crossed his arms over his chest, his jaw working like he was chewing on words he didn’t want to spit out.
“The Salieris are taking him for a while, that’s all, just until we get things sorted and you’re feeling better. ”
“Sorted? Better?” The words scraped out of her throat, “What does that even mean?”
“It means you're not riding him. Hell, you’re not even looking after him. He’s grieving, you’re grieving, and it’s destroying you both.
I won’t watch it anymore.” His voice rose, not quite a shout but close enough that it made her stomach clench.
“You want him back, Enya, you get your ass out of that room and start acting like the girl I raised instead of some ghost that floats around this house like you died in fucking Colombia.”
The words hit like a fist to the gut, and she stepped back, her heel catching on the edge of the doorway, and the look on his face shifted into something that might have been regret. But it was too late, the damage was done, the truth hanging in the air between them.
He thought she was a broken, useless burden. Maybe he was right, but didn’t he know she hated herself enough for both of them?
Her dad’s hand came up, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, and he let out a long breath that sounded like defeat. “I didn't mean it like that.”
“Yes, you did.” Her voice was steady in a way that surprised her.
She didn’t recognize the cold, flat, and empty words coming out of her mouth.
“You meant every word.” She turned and walked back down the hall, her feet moving on autopilot.
She didn't stop until she was in her room with the door closed and the lock turned to shut out the world.
Then she sank down onto the bed, pulled her knees to her chest, and tried to remember how to breathe.
Rain is gone.
Daddy thinks I’m worthless.
Rain is gone.
Daddy thinks I’m worthless.
Rain is gone.
Daddy thinks I’m worthless.
By the time she’d mostly pulled herself out of her spiral, it was the middle of the night. Enya found herself sitting in the dark staring at the wall and wondering if this was what the rest of her life was going to feel like—empty, small, and always, always alone.
I can’t stay here.
Maybe I should call Grandma Morgan and ask her if I can stay with her for a bit.
She decided that was an awesome idea and searched for her phone.
She finally found it buried somewhere beneath the tangled mess of clothes in the corner of the room.
She pressed the on button, but the screen stayed dark.
“Dead, of course you’re dead. Why wouldn’t you be dead when I need to call Grandma Morgan at two thirty in the morning? ”
The charger was tangled in the cords behind her nightstand, half-hidden under a stack of dog-eared paperbacks and a half-empty glass of water that had been sitting so long the surface was filmed with dust. She yanked it free, jammed the plug into the wall, and stabbed the charging cable into the phone with a shaking hand.
The screen stayed black for an agonizing few seconds before the display flickered, and the battery icon blinked red at 1%.
She pressed the on button again, then, all at once, notifications flooded the lock screen like a flood breaking through a dam.
Three missed calls from her mom, the timestamps stretching back over the last two hours.
Messages from some of her friends on the circuit, wanting to know how she was doing.
Near the bottom, beneath a spam message from her mobile provider, was a reminder from the vet about Rain’s overdue booster, and under that a single line from a number she didn’t have in her contacts, the preview showed on the screen:
Enya, just checking in to see how you are doing. Call me sometime. Rowan.
Her thumb hovered over the message, the pad of her finger pressing just hard enough to make the glass whiten beneath it.
How am I doing?
I’m doing shit because you have my horse.
What else was there to say, anyway?
Sorry, my dad’s a jerk?
Sorry, I couldn’t keep Rain happy?
Sorry, I wasn’t enough?
The phone slipped from her fingers, bouncing once on the mattress before she let it lie there, face-up, the screen still glowing. She turned away, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes until stars bloomed behind her lids.
How did my life turn into this?
Who did I upset in a past life to deserve this?
Her heart ached, her head hurt. She didn’t even know where to start figuring her crap out or even if it was possible at this point.
Getting Rain back would be a start.
You can’t get him back if you don’t know where you’re going.
For the first time in months, she reached for her laptop and opened it to find Rain’s paperwork. She took the address of his breeder and plugged it into a Google search. It didn’t take her long to locate the property and have the computer spit out directions. She plugged them into her phone.
I’m coming, Rain.