51. Kaitlyn
FIFTY-ONE
Kaitlyn
Brock’s truck is parked in front of the house when I round the corner.
Shit.
Riding up the hard-packed dirt road that serves as our drive, I can see him sitting on the front porch with my mother and his, a pitcher of iced tea sweating on the small table between them. While the two older women talked about wedding matters, I’m sure, Brock sits, sprawled out in his chair, looking disgruntled and bored. I know exactly when he spots me because my anxiety spikes so hard I jerk on the reins and Two-tone gives a nervous nicker in response.
“Sorry,” I mutter at him, loosening my grip to give him a reassuring pat on the side of his neck. “I’m okay.”
Are you? Because I don’t think you are.
“Jesus, Luke…” Still muttering, I ride past the ho use and head for the barn. “Don’t start.”
Don‘t start what? Telling the truth? I’ve been telling you the truth since day one—you’re the one who keeps lying to yourself.
Even though this is the worse possible time to allow myself to spiral into a delusional conversation with my dead brother, I do it anyway because I haven’t heard his voice in days and I miss the sound of it, even if I don’t like what it has to say. “I don’t lie,” I say out loud while I swing myself off Two-tone’s back. Leading him into the barn, I drop his reins when we get to his stall.
Maybe not to other people but you lie to yourself all the time, Kaity.
“Oh yeah?” Uncinching Two-tone’s belly strap, I loosen it to pull the saddle off his back. “About what?”
You’re not going to survive this. Getting involved with Went was a mistake.
“You’re the one who told me to kiss him,” I remind him while I lug Two-tone’s saddle to the tack room. “You’re worse than Abbey—Jesus, make up your mind.”
It’s not the kissing I’m talking about and you know it.
Using my hip to swing the saddle onto it’s stand, I shake my head on an exasperated laugh. “I’m not talking about that with you—I don’t care if you’re real or not.”
I’m not talking about sex either, Kaity. I’m talking about love. You’re in love with him.
Doing what I should’ve done from the second I heard his voice in my head, I ignore my brother. Instead of denying it, I make my way back to where I left Two-tone. Unbuckling his halter, I open his stall door before giving him a pat on his shoulder. True to my mother’s word, the stall has been mucked and there’s fresh hay waiting for him in his feeder. Someone took care of my chores today, just like she said they would. Instead of grateful, I feel guilty.
You’re in love with him.
Hanging Two-tone’s bridle from the hook outside his stall, I snap up a comb before following him inside.
You’re in love with him.
Still ignoring him, I wait for Two-tone to stick his face in his feeder before I start to brush him down, the short soft bristles scraping away the dirt and loose hair that might irritate him after a long day outside.
You’re in love with him.
“You’re even more delusional than I am.” Giving in, I hiss it out loud while I run the brush over Two-tone’s back. “I know what this is. This is—”
“Who are you talking to?”
Letting out a yelp, I feel my shoulders tense. Next to me, Two-tone pulls his face out of his feeder so he can turn around, same as me, to find Brock standing in the doorway to the stall, watching us both.
Seeing him, I force myself to relax for the sake of the horse standing next to me. “My horse.” Turning back around, I continue brushing. “Nevermind him.” I nudge Two-tone in the shoulder with my elbow on a downstroke when he continues to stare at Brock. “Eat your dinner.”
Two-tone snorts before doing as I say with obvious reluctance. Still focusing my attention on brushing the horse in front of me, I shake my head. “What are you doing here?” Realizing my tone and the question it delivered is too harsh for Brock’s liking, I shake my head and try again. “I mean—your mom and mine aren’t supposed to meet until tomorrow morning and you and I—”
“Where’ve you been, Kaitydid?”
His tone is heavy. Full of accusation. I’ve heard it before. When we were dating, he’d get suspicious if I took too long in the bathroom while we were at the Saddle on a busy Saturday night or if I went to the concession stand at the rodeo without him.
You fuckin’ around on me, Kaitydid?
You sneakin’ around behind my back?
No.
The answer was always no—not that he believed me, which was ironic considering he was the one who cheated every chance he got.
Switching sides to put Two-tone between us, I look at Brock over his back while I keep brushing. “I took Two-tone for a ride around the lake to stretch his legs—I haven’t had much time to exercise him lately, with all the wedding stuff.” I tell him a safe version of the truth because he saw me riding down the mountain. He knows where I was.
Brock makes a noise in the back of his throat while he eases himself further into the stall. “Alone?”
“Yes.” I give him a nod for good measure. “Is there something wrong with the church?” I ask, pushing as much concern into my tone as I possibly can. “Is that why you brought your mother here? Did—”
“You know what I think?” He cuts me off again, completely uninterested in my attempts to distract him. “I think that story about finding you in the bathroom at the Saddle, sucking Bravebird’s dick isn’t too far off the mark.” He moves his way into the stall completely, blocking my only exit. “I think you and him have been fucking for a good, long while…” His jaw shifts, teeth grinding together. “I think that’s why you broke up with me in the first place.”
My father took Damien on as a hand about ten months before Luke died. Nine before I broke up with Brock. Before the day of my brother’s funeral, the two of us never said a word to each other. Instead of explaining and denying, I jam the comb into my back pocket with a sigh. “I broke up with you because I caught you fucking my supposed best friend in the bed of your truck in the parking lot of some rodeo.” Giving Two-tone a pat on his flank, I round the back of him to cross the distance between Brock and me. Stopping in front of him, I shake my head. “And it stuck because you hit me.” That’s the part that shames me the most. The fact that if Brock hadn’t hit me, I would have forgiven him. We’d probably already be married. I suppose, I should be thankful.
Hands fisted at my sides, I lock my knees to keep them from shaking while I stare him down. “Now, if you’re not going to tell me what your mother is doing here, I think I’d like to go up to the house and ask her myself.”
He lifts a quick hand between us and I’m ashamed to say I flinch away from it because I’m sure he’s going to slap it across my face for being mouthy. When I shy away from him, Brock grins. “You dropped something.” He’s holding the icepack Went pushed between my legs after I mounted Two-tone little more than thirty minutes ago. The ice is considerably melted but still intact. “It was between your legs when you got off your horse—now, what would you need to ride home on an icepack for?”
For the ride home, Sunshine…
Resisting the urge to snap it out of Brock’s hand, I force myself to push my way past him on a scoff and he lets me—probably because he doesn’t want to get stomped to death by my horse. Closing Two-tone’s stall door, I shove the bolt home while Brock looms over me. Turning to make my way back to the house where our mothers are waiting, my escape is short lived when I feel his hand clamp around my arm and spin me around.
Gaze narrowed on my face, Brock squeezes hard enough to cause tears to well up at the corners of my eyes. “I asked you a fucking question—what’s the ice pack for?”
Fighting every instinct I have when it comes to him, I force myself to relax. “I told you—I haven’t had much time to ride lately. My ass is a little sore. I stopped at the cabin on my way home for an icepack so I can actually walk.”
When I mention Northpoint, Brock’s hazel eyes narrow down to slits. I know without a doubt he just figured out where I was hiding the night he tried to rape me. “Your ass hurts…” Gaze still narrowed on my face, Brock sneers at me. “I bet it does—If I’d known you liked it in the ass, I’d have given it to you a long time ago. ”
“You’re crazy and disgusting, you know that?” I give my arm a yank but it’s no use, Brock just tightens his grip.
“Who were you with up there?” It’s like I never said a word.
“No one.” I’m a horrible liar. The look on Brock’s face all but confirms it. Even though I know I’m caught, I double down. “I was alone.”
“Don’t lie to me, Kaity.” He shakes his head on a laugh. “You know I don’t like it when you lie to me.” His gaze flicks up and over my shoulder. Whatever he sees tightens his grip like a tourniquet, so hard my fingers start to tingle from lack of blood flow. “Where’s Bravebird?” he asks, his tone conversational despite the fact that he’s seconds away from squeezing my arm off. “Shouldn’t he be here to rescue you, by now?”
“I have no idea.” Another lie but I tell it without a shred of remorse. “I haven’t seen him all day.”
Brock makes another sound in the back of his throat, a nasty smile creeping across his handsome face before he loosens his grip, letting me go completely. My arm begins to throb in an instant. “My mother wanted to come see yours—something about planning the rehearsal dinner before the ceremony,” he says, answering my earlier question like the last ten minutes never happened. “I’ll see you back at the house… don’t take too long. You kn ow I miss you when you’re gone.”
Brock walks away, leaving me stunned and confused by his sudden one-eighty for a few moments before I turn around to watch him walk back to the house. That’s when I see what he saw.
Damien’s truck coming down the mountain, headed home from Northpoint—the sight of it all but confirming his suspicions that whatever I was doing up at the lake house this afternoon, I wasn’t doing it alone and calling me a liar, a thousand times louder than he ever could.