Chapter 40 Nelly
NELLY
Seven days and seven hours later…
Morning was gone.
Afternoon matured.
The sun hovered halfway between noon and settling against the horizon.
I felt empty as I pushed out of the rundown barn.
I’d not danced one step. I’d just sat in the dusty old truck, the only thing moving my mind and the organs that persisted in their machinations, though I wasn’t sure what the point was of them doing things like pumping blood and breathing air.
They should just give up.
I thought, after everything I’d been through, I was ready to throw in the towel. So why shouldn’t they?
Blinking against the outside brightness, I left the barn doors open behind me. Let it be exposed to the elements, let it weather the harsh world. I had no protection against the chafing wind, the burning sun, or the icy rain. So, I’d share that misfortune. I’d let other things ruin along with me.
I moved towards the original homestead’s foundation.
This ranch had been here forever. So much history.
It was time for me to leave it behind and become just a footnote in these Alphas’ lives, just like this part of the property.
I wasn’t waiting for a reply from Eros anymore.
I’d leave tonight, or maybe tomorrow. I’d leave and never look back.
Without conscious decision, my feet carried me toward the stables’ connected paddock where Ghost, my spirited, stunning mare, grazed peacefully. My horse, I thought, rolling the claim over in my head. Was she really mine?
I couldn’t take her with me when I left Sagebrush.
She wouldn’t fit in a carry-on, though I had nothing to take from this place, nothing to pack in a bag.
If I did manage to transport her to Seattle, where would she stay?
An apartment couldn’t hold her wildness.
I could find a horse facility outside the city, pay to stable her.
If I still had my bank account—would Eros have closed it? If I could find a job before her expenses got too high—where the hell could I work now?
If. If. If.
Ghost lifted her head at my approach, ears pricking forward in recognition. Something in her liquid brown eyes and soft nickered greeting unwound one small knot in my chest. Of course, there were dozens left behind.
"Hey, beautiful girl," I murmured, approaching the fence, then climbing onto the lowest rung and folding my arms atop the barrier.
Ghost ambled over, powerful muscles flowing beneath her sleek white coat. She nuzzled me with her velvety nose, rooting around, obviously hoping I had a treat. I pulled one hand from beneath her searching muzzle and stroked down her nose
"At least you're glad to see me," I told her, eyes watering, my voice barely above a whisper. "Everyone else is acting like I've grown a second head.”
Every time one of their stupid faces sprouted into my mind, I felt more confused. Their standoffish attitudes, their strained expressions, the way Wyatt had jerked from my touch. None of it aligned with the last week here. None of it fit.
Ghost gave up searching for a sugar cube or apple slice. She stepped back, stomping a hoof. I chuckled, swiping away a tear. “I promise I’ll bring you a treat next time.”
She whinnied and did a full body shake, as if to say, ‘you better not forget!’ Then she pushed back towards the fence, flatting her side against it so I could pet her back. I obliged, running my right hand down the curve of her spine.
“What do you think, girl? Do you think they’ll tell me what the heck’s going on, or do you think they’ll keep acting like they did at breakfast?
” My stomach grumbled when I said the word ‘breakfast’.
I was desperately hungry, hadn’t even managed a sip of coffee this morning, let alone food.
There was zero way I was going inside to eat though.
Ghost's ears flicked to and fro, and her head turned so she could see me. Her intelligent eyes made me think she could understand every word I said.
“You’d never treat me like that, would you?” I continued stroking her neck, finding comfort in the warmth of her body, the silky texture of her mane between my fingers.
“You’d never treat me like that, would you?” I continued stroking her neck, finding comfort in the warmth of her body, the silky texture of her mane between my fingers.
Ghost nickered softly, as if answering my question with an emphatic 'never.'
"What should I do, Ghost?” I whispered my next question, knowing—despite my belief she understood me—that I could solve nothing talking to the horse.
This time, Ghost stayed perfectly still.
“I just…” I angrily wiped away another tear, “feel so damn trapped right now.”
She looked at me, and I looked at her.
She didn’t have a saddle, no bridle. I’d never ridden her. None of the men had either. They were too heavy for here frame, so much more petite than the other gigantic horses.
“Can I ride you, Ghost?”
I waited for a sign.
She simply stayed completely still, watching and waiting.
The decision was impulsive and reckless—exactly what I needed. I’d not been brave enough to ride her or even ride a different horse alone. I’d only been on Behaichi with Boone, and once on Duck with Wade. But I needed this—to let go, through caution to the wind, to escape somehow.
I hoisted myself up, swinging my leg over the fence until I was perched awkwardly atop it, one leg dangling on either side. Ghost watched me curiously but didn't move away. My heart pounded in my chest as I contemplated what I was about to do.
"Please stay still, girl," I murmured, my voice trembling slightly. "I really don’t want to fall on my ass.”
As if understanding my plea, Ghost remained perfectly motionless beside the fence, her breathing steady and calm while mine came in nervous little gasps.
I shifted my weight carefully, sliding from the fence onto her bare back.
Once atop her, it took everything I had to not tumble off her back in self-preservation.
I felt a momentary panic at the lack of saddle, reins, or any control.
But what did control matter anymore? Everything in my life was spiraling away from me anyway. It had been for a long time.
I adjusted myself on Ghost's slender back, my calves positioned where Boone taught me, ready to gently push inward with my calves to urge her forward. I leaned over, wrapping my arms around her neck, praying I wouldn’t topple off. I buried my face in her mane for a moment, inhaling how she smelled.
It was a scent not unlike Grandmother’s quilt after she’d hung it in summer sun to dry when I was a little girl. No hint of laundry soap or softener left behind. The material had absorbed the day’s warmth and kept it safe so Grandmother could wrap me in it at bedtime.
"Thank you," I whispered against her neck, no longer caring if I did fall, even if the impact broke every bone in my body. At least then I'd feel something besides this hollow ache in my chest put there by the Alphas stealing back their affection, their kindness, their desire for me.
"If you’re going to throw me off, don’t do it too hard, okay?
” As I spoke, I pressed my calves against her.
She shifted beneath me, adjusting to my weight, and then she began to amble across the grass.
Though I knew I shouldn’t encourage her faster, knew I wasn’t ready for that, I tightened my legs around her a fraction more.
Ghost’s pace quickened until air whipped against my cheeks and my heart raced. As a feeling similar to pumping your legs on a swing as hard as possible, trying to push as close to the sky above as you can, crashed over me, I closed my eyes. The sensation carried me away from my worries.
On the cotton-hued mare, I decided that whatever happened next—whether I stayed or left, whether the Alphas explained themselves or not—I’d not give up after all.
I wouldn’t break. I wouldn’t completely fall apart.
Life had tested me repeatedly, and it never won.
I gave myself completely over to the horse, letting her take me wherever she wanted.
I didn’t even open my eyes to see if she was going to crash into the fence, or leap over it in her own effort to find liberation.
Only when her galloping slowed to an ambling, did I part my lashes.
Ghost was heading back towards the fence, near the section I’d used to get on her. On the other side of it now stood all five men. I wondered if I could close eyes again and make them go away.
Their expressions were a mixture of awe and something else I couldn’t place at first. The answer came into my mind seconds later though, as Ghost brought us closer.
Torture. They looked tormented, as if witnessing something both magnificent and painful.
Which, like this morning, made no sense at all.
How could they look at me that way? How could they admire me, yet loathe me all at once?
"Nelly," Wyatt called, his voice hoarse. "Jesus Christ. You can’t do that. You can’t ride alone. It’s not safe."
His words sent anger bursting inside my chest, like a firework had been lying in wait, wishing for a match.
“I can do anything I want,” I bit out, suddenly aware of how I must look—windblown, tear-stained, perched bareback on Ghost. The mare shifted beneath me, sensing my tension. I stroked her neck with one hand, praying she wouldn’t get upset and knock me off in front of the men.
“He didn’t mean it that way,” Wade insisted, stepping forward and lifting his hands to white-knuckle grip the fence.