Chapter 7 Mortem Interval #2
The estate stretches around us as we ride, endless acres of sprawling land. The rhythmic thud of hooves against dirt is the only real sound for a while, and I let it lull me into something dangerously close to peace, the chill seeping through my gloves.
It doesn’t last.
Because despite our many giggles trying to get my clumsy ass onto this fucking horse, grief sits between us, restrained but crushing.
It’s in the way Emily holds herself, in the glassy distance in her gaze, the slight tremor in her fingers when she adjusts her reins.
“It’s weird, isn’t it?” she says, the words rough. “How loss makes everything feel smaller. Like, the world keeps turning, but yours just—stops.”
I swallow hard. “Yeah. It is.”
She nods. The understanding we have doesn’t need words, just the shared weight of loss.
I should probably say something. Tell her that grief isn’t linear. That it doesn’t shrink, you just grow around it. That she won’t always feel like this.
But I don’t.
Because I’m not sure how true that is anymore.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she says. “Even just for a few days. It can feel suffocating trying to navigate things like this with my family.”
I meet her gaze, lips pressed. “I’m glad too.”
Neither of us says anything for a bit.
Just the steady thud of hooves on packed earth and the occasional snort cutting through the crisp morning air.
The ghosts we wish we could shove somewhere deep and forget about for a while, riding alongside us.
The more I think about Emily’s loss, the more mine claws its way back up, uninvited.
It’s been two years since my world was flipped on its head—since I said goodbye to Laurel. She wasn’t just my best friend; she was my other half, the keeper of all my worst.
There are things I shared with her that I could never share with anyone else in the world.
Memories, fears, the thoughts you don’t dare speak out loud to anyone.
She held the unedited version of me. And now she’s gone, and I’m just here, carrying it all on my own, a locked diary no one else has the key to, gathering dust, full of stories and bullshit no one else will ever hear again.
We spoke a language only two people spoke, and now I’m the only one left who remembers it.
Her cancer didn’t offer us a gentle descent. It slammed into our lives like a wrecking ball, merciless and swift.
One second, she was there. The next, the world was smaller. Emptier. Like the air had been sucked out of it, and no one else even noticed.
I didn’t talk about it back then. I still don’t.
People never know what to say when someone dies, and I didn’t have the patience to hold their hands through their awkward condolences.
So I disappeared. Threw myself into my work, my research, my endless hunt for answers.
I knew if I stopped moving, I’d have to sit with the only thing I couldn’t fix.
She was gone. And I was still here without her.
Emily shifts in the saddle, and I’m yanked back to now. To her grief. And mine.
Then, because I am me, and I cannot allow emotions to sit uninterrupted for longer than thirty seconds. “Hey, do you think I could convince Theo to try horseback riding?”
Emily barks out a laugh. “Absolutely not. He’s stiff as a board.”
My mouth curves before I can stop it. “You’re right. It’s bad enough that I made him come here at all. So much socializing.”
“Mm. So tragic for you, having to suffer through all that unresolved sexual tension in the same bed every night.”
I whip my head toward her. “Excuse me?”
Her lips tilt slightly. “Lila, I may be the saddest panda right now, but I’m not blind. I saw the shock on his face when I laid you bare last night, even through my drunkenness. Fuck that man and put him out of his misery.”
I roll my eyes so hard I practically sprain something, but before I can argue, Emily squeezes her heels, nudging her horse into a canter, setting off across the field like she hasn’t been inches from her own demise all morning.
I release a curse, nudge my own horse forward, and chase after her.
Because that’s what we do.
Even when it hurts.
Even when grief tries to pull us under.
We keep moving.
Theo: Where are you?
I look down at my phone, surprised. He’s had my number since that first day in his office, but this is the first time he’s texted without me initiating contact.
Lila: Still outside recovering from the ride.
Theo: You don’t strike me as the equestrian type.
Lila: And what type do I strike you as?
Theo: The type who’s going to spend the entire night complaining about how sore you are.
Lila: Did you text just to make fun of me or?
Theo: Wanted to make sure you hadn’t been thrown off and left for dead.
Lila: That’s thoughtful of you.
Theo: I have my moments.
Theo: You okay?
I hesitate. Too long, probably. Such a loaded question.
Lila: Yep. Totally fine.
Theo: Sounds like a lie.
Lila: And yet, there’s nothing you can do about it if it is.
Theo: I could come find you, give you a piggyback ride back.
He catches me off guard again, because that doesn’t sound like something Theo would say at all.
Lila: That sounds like a lot of effort.
Theo: For you? Not really.
Theo: If you’re opposed to the piggyback ride, I could always hogtie you and sling you over my shoulder. A little birdie told me you were into that.
My stomach flips, and I hate that it does. Is he being flirty? I am definitely reading too much into this. Probably because of that fucking dream I had last night. He’s only joking. I am not sure how to respond, so I do what I do best. Change the subject.
Lila: Have you ever been on a horse?
Theo: I’m from Chicago.
Lila: That’s not an answer.
Theo: It is if you think about it hard enough.
I snort, the tension in my body easing slightly.
Lila: Alright, cowboy. I’ll be back soon.
Theo: Take your time.
Lila: Today sucks.
Calla: Define sucks.
Lila: Emily’s just…
I type. Stop. Delete. Rewrite.
Lila: It was just a heavy morning.
Calla: Ah. The grief monster strikes again.
Serena: It’s an asshole.
Calla: A relentless asshole.
Serena: You want us to fly up there and kidnap you?
Lila: Kidnapping is illegal.
Calla: It’s just one little felony, Lila.
Serena: In all seriousness, what do you need?
I think about it.
Lila: Just a distraction.
Calla: Oh, babe. I know exactly where you can find that.
Serena:
Lila: You two are so comforting. Truly.