Nine
Silence filled the truck’s cab as Tuck passed through the wrought-iron gate of Bolt Brook Thoroughbred Farm. It would be a half mile until we reached the white house—painted that particular shade where shadows and light made the color appear warmer or darker—that had been my childhood home. The house—well, mansion, really—was more than sixteen thousand square feet and had made for a great place to play hide-and-seek with Tuck in our younger days.
However, passing the parked news vans and photojournalists trying to get a shot of the comings and goings had put a damper on my happy memories. Fortunately for my folks, their estate comprised three hundred and twenty-five acres of rolling bluegrass. Unless one of the media companies came equipped with a drone, they wouldn’t get the photos they were hoping for and still maintain the no-trespassing laws.
I prayed my parents’ legacy would overcome the accusations currently hurled in their direction. Bolt Brook had always been where horse legends were bred, trained, and became winners for their future owners. My breath shuddered when the sprawling house came into view. Tears pricked at my eyes, and I blinked multiple times trying to keep them at bay. Tuck had seen me blubber enough.
He parked in the circular driveway and then peered at me. “Want me to come inside with you?”
Boy, did I. Yet I had no idea what I’d be walking into. For some reason, I wanted to shield Tuck from that—or maybe save myself the embarrassment. “I think I got this.”
“You sure?” He reached over and squeezed my hand.
I wanted to grip his hand and hang on to the lifeline he offered. Even let him whisper words of comfort and assure me this was all a bad dream. His holding me as I poured out my heart in tears earlier had been the most achingly tender thing he’d ever done. Not including the care he’d shown by making me tea and a sandwich.
But if I leaned on him one more time, my worries would fall by the wayside, and I’d be confusing the feelings that had risen in his embrace—thanks to the delicious woodsy cologne clinging to him—with something that had only been meant to bring comfort. Yet I couldn’t shake his scent from my memory. Breathing in his essence reminded me of roasting marshmallows at a bonfire or snuggling under blankets with a fire crackling in the hearth. Tucker Hale was my weakness.
Back to the issue at hand.
I’d been trying to tell my parents how independent I truly was. If Tuck came inside, surely that would be proof I wasn’t. Not to mention the very real fear I’d be sucked right back into the place I’d been trying to leave since I turned eighteen and craved more freedoms.
You can do this. Walk in there, find out what’s going on, and then return to your own home.
The thought bolstered me. I wasn’t dependent on my parents now. I owned my own property and business. I could go in there, support them, and not feel the need to turn into a people pleaser that would have me moving in, in an effort to console them.
I drew in a deep breath and let go of Tuck’s hand, immediately missing its warmth. “I’ll be fine.” God was with me, but I’d have to repeat that statement over and over to let my anxiety-filled brain remember the truth. “Just please pray for me while I’m in there.”
“Already started.”
The sincerity in his gaze made me forget my rules as I wrapped my arms around his neck. “You’re the best ... friend ever.” I let go. “I’ll text you if I decide to stay long.” No use making him wait out here forever.
“Roger that.”
As I walked up the outdoor stairs, I whispered my own prayer. “Lord God, please give me the words. Please let me know what to say to my folks. How to help. Please be in the midst of our conversation. Amen.”
I entered the double-paned glass doors and stopped in the foyer, listening for sounds of occupancy. Then I pulled out my cell to text my dad. Maybe he could tell me where he was so I wouldn’t end up wandering from room to room.
“Piper?”
My inner child sighed in relief at the sound of Mama’s voice, and I turned and stared. Her gorgeous red hair was pulled back with a headband that matched the cream-colored sweats she wore. My mother rarely dressed down, so to see her face free of makeup and with dark circles under her eyes pricked every sympathetic nerve in my system.
“I saw the news.” I still stood near the doors, unsure of what to do. Should I hug her and tell her it would all pass over?
“Pretty sure the whole world has seen it.” The derision in her voice broke my heart.
Again, I wanted to kick myself for not considering what my folks were going through and focusing only on feeling left out. “I thought I’d come offer support or comfort or...” I shrugged.
Mama crossed the hall and wrapped me in her arms. I buried my face in the crook of her neck as she started rocking us back and forth. Her arms held me tightly as her body started to shake.
“I can’t believe anyone would accuse us of such a thing,” she wailed.
Somehow, we’d switched places. I was now the comforter as I patted her back and whispered nonsensical words in her ear. The same way she’d soothed me when I was a child waking up from nightmares or crying over a scraped knee.
After a while, Mama drew back and stared at me. “You shouldn’t have come. What if they photographed you and display your picture all over the media too?”
Of course she was concerned about me. I offered a small smile. “You’re my mama. Of course I’m coming over when I read such headlines. You know I care about what affects you and Dad.”
She nodded. “Still, I wouldn’t want them to add mean comments about you.”
Obviously, she wasn’t reading the comments on the articles. The judgments had already been thrown. “I’ll be fine, Mama.”
“Your father’s in his office.” She sighed. “He’s been staring at his trophies ever since the news broke.”
I wasn’t too sure why my parents called the shrine room—my nickname—Dad’s office. Sure, a desk and chair occupied some of the space, but so did tons of trophies, ribbons, and framed photos that were a testament to Bolt Brook’s legacy. I doubted he did any actual office work while sitting in there.
“Have y’all had lunch?” I asked.
Mama shook her head. “I can’t eat.”
“Maybe you should try.”
“Maybe.” She sniffed. “You want to join us for lunch?”
“I’d like that.” Even though I’d had a BLT, I’d eat again to be surrounded by my loved ones. I hooked my arm with hers and guided us to the kitchen.
“The chef has the day off. I didn’t want the staff to have to drive through the reporters.”
“It’s fine.” I’d rather cook for myself, though having a chef had been a perk growing up here. Yet if I had the budget, I’d pick a cleaning service over a chef. Cleaning took too much time I’d rather spend outdoors.
I let go of Mama’s arm and pulled out my cell to text Tuck. He’d been sitting in the driveway long enough. I’d find my way home later.
“Who are you texting?”
“Tuck. He gave me a ride here.”
Mama stopped walking. “Is he still outside?”
“Yeah.” I met her gaze. “He was waiting to hear if I would need a ride home.”
“Piper Imani McKinney, tell that boy to come inside. No sense idling out in the driveway when we have enough seating to host another friendly face.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Tell him to come on in.” She made a waving motion with her hand, then moved toward the fridge. “I’m assuming he’ll be hungry too?”
“He always is.” I’d never seen Tuck turn down a meal.
Piper
Mama said to come inside.
Tuck
I don’t wanna encroach on family time.
Piper
??
Tuck
Lol, all right. I’m coming.
Piper
Good. Head to the kitchen.
“Did you tell him where we are?” Mama asked.
“Yes.”
She looked up from the stove. “How’ve you been?”
“Busy.”
“You ready for the next race?”
Yes and no. I didn’t really have to do anything to be ready. Tuck was the hard worker in this scenario. But sitting in the owner’s box, having reporters come talk to me ... It all made me anxious despite my love for the sport. “Somewhat.”
“I can only imagine. Have you bought more horses? Is that your plan?”
“Yes. I don’t want to own as many as y’all, but I do have two purchases in the works.” Thanks to Dream’s previous wins, I could afford the bill. “Of course, I’m hoping Dream will go the distance so I can use him as a stud in the future.”
“I’m sure he’ll do well enough.”
Well enough.Did Mama expect me to fail? Was that why she was always giving me tips and suggestions? Because she didn’t believe in me?
I didn’t have the heart to ask the questions mulling inside me. I’d never really told Mama how insecure I felt the majority of the time. And now I just smiled and continued listening to her as she flipped the tuna melt in the skillet.
“I love your melts.”
Her eyes crinkled with her grin. Though Mama chose to keep dying her hair the color of her youth—her words, not mine—everything else on her was slowly aging. Sometimes it was weird to watch her get older. Other times it made me wonder what I’d look like as I aged. I couldn’t base the information on Mama’s own looks, and at times that fact hurt my heart. I was missing the connection of genetics on a daily basis.
Yet I couldn’t deny that I had my father’s temperament and my mother’s love for rom-com movies. You’d think having those would lessen the desire for the DNA portion, but the yearning in my heart never went away.
The sound of footsteps interrupted my dive into melancholy, and I breathed a sigh of relief when Tuck stepped into the kitchen.
“Afternoon, Mrs. McKinney.”
“Hey there, Tuck. Thanks for bringing Piper over.”
He nodded, then came to sit next to me. His blue eyes searched mine, and when I gave him a small smile, letting him know I was fine, his lips quirked up in response.
“Do you want some lunch?” Mama asked.
“Yes, please. If it’s not too much trouble.”
“Tuna melt okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She glanced at him. “How are your folks?”
“They’re good. Enjoying the retirement life.”
“I bet. Piper, why don’t you be a dear and go see if you can convince your dad to join us for a meal?”
I bit my lip. Was she purposely splitting Tuck and me up? I glanced her way, then his. He motioned for me to go.
“Sure. Be right back.”
When I got to the doorway, I turned to look over my shoulder, and unease sprouted in every unspoken worry. Mama was up to something.