40. Chord
forty
Chord
39 DAYS WITHOUT HER
The mountains are purple, the sky above them a thousand shades of pink, and the air begins to cool as the sun begins its fall over Silver Leaf. I cross my arms, lean my back against the timber fence circling an open field near the renovated barn, and watch Daisy canter past on the young, athletic golden mare I bought her. She named the horse Chardonneigh, and behind her, Finn follows on a gray retired rodeo pickup we christened Stallion Blanc. He rides with the easy grace and competent circuits of someone who grew up around horses.
On the far side of the paddock, Dylan holds the reins of a gentle sorrel gelding, leading it in a slow walk with Isobel on its back. She named her horse Mabel, of course, even after we explained that Mabel is a boy.
Daisy is never happier than when she’s on the back of a horse, and the way she squealed and unreservedly accepted these three when they arrived earlier in the week should have been the balm I needed. Finally, someone I love accepted what I had to give them.
But it isn’t enough. My family’s joy is a tiny moth beating itself against the glass, trying to get to the warmth on the other side, not realizing the fire is a blaze of rage and grief that incinerates everything in its path.
Buying and preparing for Silver Leaf’s newest additions was supposed to take my mind off Violet, but it didn’t quite turn out that way.
The hockey season started less than a week after Violet left for Milan, so Luke did most of the grunt work—structural repairs to the barn and managing the delivery of feed, tack, grooming equipment, and all the other supplies.
It was a mixture of luck and abandonment that nobody noticed the stable’s transformation, and I watched it all take shape via emails I read in planes, hotels, and my new San Francisco apartment—the cold, sterile penthouse that I hated at first sight, and not the warm, sunlit place I bought for me and my girl because it was her favorite.
With a determined scowl, I concentrate on the horses and what the next chapter will look like for Silver Leaf. With advertising and word of mouth, plus a little time for Daisy to reacquaint herself with the local terrain, the ranch can finally offer trail rides again. And when Daisy has time to hire a team to help with the horses, I’ll buy her a dozen more.
Throw in Charlie’s contract with the Fury, and we’re on track to reestablish this place as the best tourist destination in the region. The way it was when Mom and Dad were still here.
That hopeful little moth starts beating its wings again. Something feels right . And it’s still not enough.
I suck in a breath of country air, filling my chest until my ribs ache, then let it rush out as I push off the fence, reach into my back pocket, and pull out my phone.
I ignore the missed call from Coach Campbell, the email from the Fury media team, and the notifications on my team chat with Hayden, Jake, Breaker, West, and Theo, and I do what I’ve done every morning since I woke up alone in my bed five weeks, three days, and twenty-six minutes ago. I scroll through my contacts to Violet’s number and glare at it while resisting the urge to call.
You let her go , I remind myself. And if she didn’t answer my first seventy-seven calls, she’s not going to answer number seventy-eight.
When the impulse passes, I open her social media pages instead. Scroll through her feed for updates.
She doesn’t post every day, but there’s a new picture now. Violet’s elegant hand holding a takeout coffee cup.
I swipe through the pictures of her life in Milan. Cafes and boutiques and ancient architecture mixed in with sketches and fabric swatches. Never a picture of her face, which makes me ache, but I open each image anyway just to torture myself with the comments.
haters_gonna_hate: Total social climber. You used Chord and dropped him when you got what you wanted. I’m glad you left the country. He’s a fucking god who deserves better than you.
lives_for_fashion_99: STFU! Violet is talented. She’d never get an offer from Leonardo Bellucci if she couldn’t do the job. Jealous much?
hockeyhotties: Hard agree. If Violet left Chord Davenport, she had a good reason. The guy’s a jackass. Just ask his ex.
anon_31: I heard Chord dumped Violet because he found out she was using him for his money and connections. Just like his ex-girlfriend. Violet will be banging Spencer Cook next. LOL.
nhlnoos: I heard the Fury’s going to dump Davenport because he’s such a LOSER.
lives_for_fashion_99: @nhlnoos This is a FASHION page. Take your comments somewhere people care. (But even I know that’s total bullshit. The Fury is going to come back this season. Chord is HEARTbrOKEN. Give the guy time to pull his head together.)
violet_james_fan: You’re all terrible people! LEAVE VIOLET ALONE!
I read this shit to stay angry. It was supposed to stop when I let her go, but nothing has changed. I can’t stop people from talking about Violet, and I can’t protect her from any of it, so if she has to wade through the vitriol every goddamn day, I’m going to do the same.
When I check again in a few hours, the most hurtful comments will have been deleted, but I hate that Violet reads these at all. Reads them and removes them every single day while she’s alone in a foreign country.
Even though she chose to be there. Even though she left my bed without saying goodbye.
I clench my jaw and keep reading, tapping through to a notorious hockey page and seeking out the worst comments.
I’ve started to feed off the ridicule. Crave the rage. It’s the only thing that feels real.
This season’s going to shit—the Fury has lost five of its first seven games, Coach is on my ass, and team morale dips lower every week—but I can’t dig my way out of this hole. The losses are depressing, my performance is sloppy, and I spend my nights afterward alone.
For the first time in my life, my career isn’t enough.
I go to my contacts list again and stare at Violet’s number. It’s killing me how badly I want to tell her I miss her. I’ve got my first game against my old team this week; we fly to Calgary in three days, well and truly, the underdogs to play last year’s champions on their home turf. Spencer Cook’s waiting, and although I can’t wait to slam him into the boards, Violet’s absence will give everyone more reason to talk. To look at me for all the wrong reasons. Another thing for the press to throw around, and more ammunition for Cook’s insane vendetta against me.
I want so badly for Violet to be beside me in Calgary. I’d give anything to know she’s there. Her face in the crowd. My name on her back. And I’ve never experienced this kind of need before. I’ve spent my time in the spotlight alone, and just when Violet finds the courage to step into her own light without me by her side, I don’t know how I’ll do the same without her.
I want her to come home. I want her at this game against Calgary and every game afterward. I want to score goals and dedicate them to the woman I love, and I want to go all the way to the championship Cup for her. I want her to forget about Milan and work out of the studio in San Francisco. I want to hear her scream my name every night and wake up with her in bed every morning. I want her to make her dreams come true here with me, where she belongs.
I want. I want. I want.
It’s all so fucking selfish, which is why she’s ignoring my calls. I can be proud of her at the same time as I’m miserable. What I want doesn’t matter.
“Hey, you.” Charlie stops on the other side of the fence, climbs onto the bottom rail, and leans her elbows on the top. “I didn’t know you were going to be here today.”
I stash my phone and nod toward the horses. “Yeah. Four-day break between games, so I thought I’d come by and see how the new tenants are settling in.”
“No complaints so far,” she replies.
“Good.” I cross my arms and lean back on the fence, more comfortable without making direct eye contact. “Did the woman from that events company call you?”
“She did. We had a good talk about how to use the wine in the warehouse for fundraising. I spoke to Finn, Dylan, and Daisy about it too and they agree all proceeds should go to local charities—not the ranch.”
“I’d be surprised if they thought any different.”
She hums. “Me too. Thanks for setting things up.”
“Thanks for agreeing to take over the planning now that the season’s started.”
“No problem.”
We watch our siblings and the horses in silence for a few minutes, my phone and Violet’s number still on my mind, before Charlie clears her throat.
“Look. I wasn’t going to stick my nose into this because it’s not my business, but given the stunt you pulled with the wine, I figure I’ve earned the right to get involved.”
I cut my eyes toward her, not liking where this is headed. “What?”
“What’s going on with Violet?”
I straighten off the fence and turn to face my sister. My stomach rolls with a sick twist, and it takes work to not sound desperate when I ask, “What do you mean?”
“I spoke to her yesterday, and she seemed a little off.”
My heart lurches with panic and hope, plus a powerful hit of envy, but I try to stay composed. “You talked to Violet? When? Why?”
Charlie spares me a bewildered look. “She called to make sure things were progressing with the beverage supply contracts between Silver Leaf and the Fury arena, and to offer her help if I needed anything.”
Fuck. That’s so like her, and the reminder of her selflessness only makes me more pissed at myself. “What else did she say?”
“She said everything was going well and she was enjoying her time in Milan.”
Her emphasis on certain words makes the hairs on my arms stand on end. “Why do you say it like that?”
“Because she said everything is fine, and I got the impression that it’s not. She wasn’t herself.” Charlie lifts an incredulous eyebrow. “How do you not know this?”
I frown at her tone and my own frustration. “Because I haven’t talked to her.”
“Uh… why not?”
“Because Milan is something Violet has to do on her own. She doesn’t need me getting in her way.” And she isn’t answering my calls.
Charlie grumbles under her breath—I catch the words “idiot men” and “stupid ideas”—as the sound of galloping hooves drums behind me, and I’m peripherally aware of Daisy pulling Chardonneigh to a stop beside us.
“Are we talking about Violet?” Daisy gracefully swings a leg over the saddle and dismounts from her horse. “Oh, that woman is miserable.”
My heart thumps painfully hard, and all pretense of cool and collected deserts me. “What do you mean? How do you know?”
“I video-called her two days ago.” Daisy strokes the nose of her mare and gazes into the liquid brown eyes like she isn’t delivering the most momentous news I’ve ever been told. “She acts like it’s all under control, but I’ve seen her happy, and Violet is not happy. She’s quiet and mopey and… I don’t know. Small. Beige.”
“And you agree?” I demand of Charlie.
Charlie and Daisy exchange looks, and I ignore the inference that I’m losing my mind.
“I do,” Charlie admits. “But you would know this for yourself if you’d just talk to her.”
Daisy tries to shove me and only succeeds in pushing herself back a few paces. “You haven’t talked to her?” she screeches. “No wonder she changed the subject whenever I said your name! The poor girl is in a mess over you! Why the hell haven’t you spoken?”
At the sudden pressure in my chest, I throw my hands up and pace away before spinning back around. “Because she left my house in the middle of the night while I was still sleeping!” I shout. “She won’t answer my calls or return my text messages! What the fuck am I supposed to do? She chose Milan. She chose to leave. And I had no choice but to let her go!”
Charlie shakes her head with disbelief, and Daisy echoes her with a dramatic groan.
“She’s miserable,” Charlie says slowly, gesticulating like a schoolteacher with an especially dense student. “You’re miserable.”
“And you’re both idiots!” Daisy adds.
“No. This is the right thing.” I run a hand through my hair, knowing that my desperation to believe my sisters is overriding what I know to be true. Violet chose her dreams over me. “This is what she wants and—
“She wants you ,” Daisy disagrees, nodding her head at whatever wild hope or despair she reads in my eyes. “Yes, she wants to design, and she wants to be her own woman, but that doesn’t change the fact that she also wants you. She wants it all.”
And I want her to have it.
I pace again. Five paces away. Five paces back. Meanwhile, Finn canters over, studying me from the saddle with a confused expression. Dylan and Izzy aren’t far behind, pulling up on my other side.
“What’s his problem?” Finn asks Charlie and Daisy.
“Violet,” they reply together.
Finn nods. “Tell me about it. It’s going to be a long fucking season if he doesn’t solve this shit soon.” He transfers his attention to me. “It’s the brotherly thing to watch your games, but it’s no fun when you lose.”
Izzy sighs dramatically and runs her gloved hand over Mabel’s mane. “I miss Violet. She never even got to see me ride.”
“We can send her a video,” Dylan offers. “And you can call to tell her all about it.”
My niece sighs again with a shake of her head. “It’s not the same.”
“It’s really not,” Daisy agrees, shooting a loaded look my way.
“So, what do I do?” I demand.
“Call her!” they all shout.
“Jesus. Okay.” I’m nervous and impatient as I fumble my phone out of my pocket, then turn my back as I find Violet’s number and hit call .
My heart races in case this time she answers, but it goes to voicemail again. I spin back to my sisters. “She didn’t answer.”
“Try again,” Charlie suggests.
I do, and when I get her message again, I look helplessly at my siblings. They swap uncertain looks, which fills me with urgency.
“Just keep trying,” Finn says with a worried frown. “She’ll pick up eventually.”
“No,” I say.
“ Yes ,” Daisy argues.
I shake my head to try and clear the confusion. “No. Something’s not right. She’s blocked my number or something. She’s—fuck.” With sudden insight, I figure out what she’s done—and why. Violet has all my admiration and respect. She’s also the most exasperatingly selfless person I’ve ever met. “She’s making it impossible for me to go back on my word.”
I do a quick calculation and work out that if I can get my hands on a private jet, it’s possible to fly to Milan and back before I have to be in Calgary. It’s not enough to hear Violet speak. It’s not enough to share awkward words when I could touch her. Kiss her. Love her. Admit I was wrong and figure this thing out.
I give my sisters a quick kiss on their cheeks. “Thanks for the advice. I’m going to Italy.”
“Yes!” Daisy cries as I start to run back to my place. My car. My dreams. My wallflower.