Chapter 21
Time was running out, but Henry knew Athena would continue to improve. Brielle had them working on perfecting their turns and Athena almost had them nailed. Watching her work with Beast had become one of his favorite ways to spend his time, and he wasn’t the only one.
As more of his family heard about Athena’s progress, they started to gravitate toward the corral where Brielle worked with the two of them. Even Hudson seemed intrigued.
He caught his brother’s eye and gave him a nod. Hudson turned his attention back to the practice without much of a reaction. Apparently, just because Athena was interesting didn’t make her welcome. Henry couldn’t believe his brother was still angry about Athena taking the room he wanted.
Hudson would just have to learn that he didn’t always get what he wanted. There were simply times when they had to do something for someone else who needed it more.
Henry turned his gaze to Athena again, and at that very moment, her eyes locked with his. She smiled and everything felt right. These were the moments he lived for, because heaven knew that life wasn’t perfect. The handful of arguments Henry had with Athena had been easily overlooked. They’d come out on top.
“Okay, Athena. Now I need you to try to get Beast to do something different. We need to focus on moving his back inside leg closer as you change his gait.”
“How do you expect me to do that?” Athena pulled Beast to a stop. “I don’t even know what that means.”
Brielle snapped her fingers toward one of the guys watching. “Grab me Cocoa.”
Elijah nodded and headed toward the barn.
Brielle moved closer to Athena. She grabbed the end of the whip in her hand and lifted it for emphasis. “This is a tool. You can’t shy away from using it when needed.”
“I already told you. I’m not—”
“You’ve felt it. The end isn’t going to bother him. His tail swishing flies away would probably give him more of a sting than this. You’re basically using it to tap him where your boot can’t.” Brielle stared hard at Athena, but she stared right back.
“I’m not going to use it.”
“You’ve tried all the other options. He’s not reacting to your guidance. Here, hand it to me.” Brielle took the whip and climbed into the saddle of her own horse. She sat tall and graceful—more so than Henry had ever seen. Most of the time Brielle’s face was covered in smudges as she joined Wade in all the work they needed to get done.
With her sitting atop the saddle like that, he could see her Callahan upbringing shining through. That family had been the top of the totem pole for as long as he could remember. He’d never been to any of the dressage events when he was younger. But he wouldn’t have been surprised to find out that she was an excellent competitor.
Clearly, she knew what she was doing and not just because she’d watched the events.
Brielle spoke with a loud, clear voice as she turned her horse into the steps she was trying to get Athena to do. She pointed out the gait of her horse and when the transition needed to take place. “Here is where you need to alert Beast to move his leg slightly more forward so that it appears seamless to the judges. Most horses don’t do this—and Beast definitely won’t because he’s new. It’s not a big deal, but you’re going to have to be more flexible when it comes to using this.” She stopped in front of Athena and held out the whip so Athena could grab it. “You’re not whacking him with it. You’re guiding him. Trust the process.”
Henry couldn’t tell if Athena was willing to do as Brielle had instructed. This could very well be the moment that would dictate the outcome of the upcoming competition. Everyone watched, waiting for Athena to cave.
But she didn’t.
She looked down at the whip and then shook her head. “I don’t care if it helps or if it’s required, I’m not going to use it.”
There was a rustling of murmurs through the spectators. All eyes turned to Brielle as if she’d do or say something. But all she did was sigh as she climbed down from the saddle. “I’ve helped you as far as I can. Everything else is something built upon what you already know. Ultimately, it’s up to you. It’s part of the equipment, but if you choose to use it as decoration, so be it. Practice is done for today.” She grabbed the reins of her horse and marched toward the gate.
The group watching dispersed—everyone except Henry. Athena didn’t look in his direction, but he could tell that she knew he was hovering. She fiddled with the whip, and without looking up, she finally spoke. “I’m not using it.”
He chuckled. “I think you’ve made that quite clear.”
“I mean it. I’m not going to subject Beast to it.”
Henry moved closer to her. “I don’t know why you’re being so stubborn about it. Clearly, this is just how things are.”
Her head snapped around at him, eyes blazing. “Do you even hear yourself? That’s what is wrong with the world. How many times do we just shrug our shoulders and say that something is okay because that’s the way it’s always been done? How often do we have to watch a broken system because no one is willing to enact change?”
The more she talked, the more he realized she wasn’t just talking about her work with Beast. She was dealing with deeper scars.
“Do you know why I never stick around long in any one place?” Her eyes still drilled into him. “It’s because of the people. I have never found a place that has more goodness than evil. Even the good ones have flaws that aren’t worth sticking around for. That’s how it is. But everywhere you go, there will always be disappointment, right? There’s not enough of us to make a difference. Too bad one person sticking up for something like this isn’t enough. Too bad none of you can see how far Beast has come without the use of tools like this one.” She said the word with deep bitterness.
Unfortunately, the only thing he heard from her rant was how easy it was for her to leave. He hadn’t thought about that for a long time. Sure, in the back of his mind, he knew that there was a chance she might bolt. She had a history of doing so. Heck, she’d even attempted it that night he’d caught her.
There was a strong possibility that his keeping her here was like putting a wild animal in a cage. What would happen if he opened the door and gave her the freedom to choose? He didn’t want to think about that right now. He wanted to believe that they’d come to a good place and that she’d officially decided this was where she wanted to stay for the long haul.
Athena was still learning. She wouldn’t be able to grasp all the nuances of living in a place like this one—not to mention learning the skills of riding horses. His role would be to help guide her so she knew what to expect.
“You’re wrong,” Henry said as non-confrontationally as he could.
“I’m sorry?” she snapped. “You think I’m wrong? What part?”
He shrugged. “A lot of it actually. The world isn’t as dark and dreary as you suggest it is. There’s a lot to be grateful for. There are a lot of good people out there who are doing the best they can. And if you let one bad relationship sour your outlook—”
She snorted. “One bad relationship? I know you’re not talking about the boyfriend who hurt me. Because that would be going too far.”
Henry grimaced. He hadn’t meant to bring that part up. The words had simply slipped from his lips like they had a mind of their own. “You know I didn’t mean it that way. I was talking in general. A bad experience with a specific person doesn’t mean everyone will be like that. And people have bad days. What if someone you met made a bad first impression but they were having an off day? Then you’re the one to blame when you didn’t get to know them better.”
He couldn’t tell if her silence was a good thing or a bad thing. The way she was staring at him made him think it was the latter. Her eyes grew cloudier by the second while her mouth tightened further. He’d be lucky if she spoke to him at all.
Athena huffed, climbing down from the horse as she did. Once her feet hit the ground, she didn’t look at him, but rather, she grabbed the reins and strode straight for the gate.
“Athena,” he said, “don’t just storm off like that again.”
She whirled around to face him. “You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. You were sheltered, living here with a family who loved you. While you were able to come home to brothers and sisters who supported you and told you that you’d all make it together, I was stuck with families who viewed me as nothing more than the help. There wasn’t anyone who had to love me unconditionally. I couldn’t share my secrets with anyone, and I didn’t have anyone build me up when I was broken. Your experiences in this world differ vastly from my own. Don’t you dare tell me that I’m wrong when you don’t know what I’ve gone through.” With that last statement, she hurried away.
There was a small chance she was right. For a moment during her lecture, everything made sense. She still felt alone. No one here in Copper Creek had to love her. No one here would pick her side in a fight. While she got along with nearly everyone, she didn’t feel secure.
What kind of boyfriend was he that she still didn’t feel like she had an advocate in her corner? Guilt and shame filled his chest. He watched her leave, not knowing what he should do or say.
It would be wrong for him to tell her that he was sorry and that he didn’t mean it to come out the way it had—mostly because he didn’t think he was in the wrong. Athena had several different experiences than he had; she was right about that. But her bad experiences just weren’t enough to prove the world was as bad as she thought it was.
He needed to find her family. That was the only thing that seemed to make sense. If she had even one blood relative, then maybe Athena could see she wasn’t alone. He couldn’t explain what it was about this feeling he had. All he knew was that he needed to do something to show her that she mattered. Not just to him, but to someone else.
More specifically, to someone who was family.
Hopefully, the emails he’d sent out would be responded to, and very soon. Henry didn’t know how much longer Athena would be able to last. Her volatile outbursts were coming closer and closer together. One of these days, she might actually throw her hands in the air and give up.
He couldn’t let that happen.