Chapter Ten #2
But I did. I also understood the gravity of the hold she had on my heart.
Right now, that was the bigger battle for me to overcome.
A ghost of a smile pulled on my lips as I thought back to finding her in the vet barn.
I knew she’d be there. If there was one thing I knew about Hallie, it was that she cared for horses more than anything.
She was a night owl and didn’t care about breaking the rules.
My gut told me she would have sneaked into the barn to see Dahlia even if she hadn’t been allowed.
When I entered the barn and Katie told me she was already there, it was the first full breath I’d taken that day.
When we’d begun talking, my suspicion that Dad’s accident wasn’t an accident at all had been on the tip of my tongue. In that moment, I’d wanted to tell her everything. But I’d refrained. She was here to ride, not shoulder my problems. I didn’t want to drag her down with me.
But I had wanted to open up to her. I had wanted to. For me, someone so closed off and insular, that had shocked me to my core.
My body relaxed and a smile graced my face when I thought of Hallie’s training the past couple of weeks.
While I was around the property, I found myself watching her train from far-off vantage points so she wouldn’t spot me.
I watched her practicing her breathing on the approach and lowering her hands when she jumped at speed.
Hallie had taken the advice I’d given her to heart until she’d mastered it. She could not have been more prepared for the big leagues. She had worked hard, and if I was being honest with myself, going to watch her train on Huxley had become the highlight of my day.
I was in real danger, I knew it. Because after our talk in the vet barn, after the way I’d kissed her forehead, she had consumed my every waking hour.
The thought of not seeing her around Golden Oaks for a while made a pain shoot through my chest and ignited every instinct I had to follow her.
I thought of the letter again. I was worried if I went on tour, then whoever was threatening me would see my fondness for Hallie.
Worried about the likes of Alexis Hobbs, who had already latched on to the fact I liked my rider.
Worried about the leeches like Camille Dubois and all the other rivals I had gathered over the years who would do anything to see my reputation sullied.
But you could protect her better if you were with her, a traitorous voice said in the back of my mind. You could fend off the wolves.
Fuck.
Just the thought of her going on tour and only coming back occasionally . . . I hated it. I shouldn’t want it. I should be stronger; I should resist her. But there was a pull between us that I couldn’t explain, one that I couldn’t release no matter how hard I tried.
I could never have anything with her. I couldn’t risk her that way. But I could be there in the background, watching over her.
And I’d love to watch her compete.
Shit, watching her jump was like a religious experience.
I had no doubt she and Huxley were going to be contenders for the top spot at each Grand Prix.
And the thought of only watching her on TV and not from the arenas themselves made me spitting mad.
I wanted to see the footing kick up and cloud as she landed.
I wanted to hear the gasps from the crowd as she won the jump-offs.
I wanted to see Huxley puffing for breath and Hallie’s flushed cheeks as they finished another round victorious.
Unable to sit still, I rose from my desk, threw on my coat, and went to our barn.
It always brought me solace. Within minutes I had Henry brushed down and tacked up.
I grabbed my hat and led him to our private arena.
Henry stood perfectly still as I mounted him.
“Walk on, boy,” I said, and immediately felt the excitement in my horse at simply being near the course of fences before us.
It had become a kind of game at this point, between me and Leon. He knew I still rode. All my family did. And Leon, an epic course designer in his own right, would sneak in each day while I was in my office and rejig the jumping course for my nightly training sessions.
I clicked my tongue and Henry moved to a trot. “Good boy,” I said as I worked out the course. It was difficult, as hard as it would be in any Grand Prix, and just being on my stallion, sussing out the order of fences, made goose bumps accost my body.
Nothing else made me feel this way. The thrill and excitement that came with the challenge of a new course. Of pushing me and Henry to see just how far we could go, what our ceiling actually was. We hadn’t reached it yet. And that was the most devastating part of it all.
We still had ladders to climb and accolades to win. But I wouldn’t put my horse in danger. Or myself. Genny needed me. As did my cousins.
And Henry . . . I would never have my heart horse hurt.
For the past year and a half I had worried I would never find this feeling again.
I moved Henry into a canter and turned toward the first fence.
Henry’s strides were perfect, and we flew over the first oxer, a brightly colored set of neon-green-and-pink poles.
Henry never shied from a fence, even when the fillers and poles were gaudy or the pictures upon them were spooky to most horses.
The goal of every course designer was to make the horse and rider collect faults.
Over the years, the poles and fences had gotten brighter and more patterned to put the horses off.
The fillers and wings had too, showcasing logos or garish branding or even things such as Land Rovers or miniature houses.
Locally, a replica of Tower Bridge was a favorite. Where most horses would hesitate, unsure whether they should approach it, Henry never flinched. I was sure at this point he could jump a moving tornado and not even bat an eye.
I had to hold Henry steady to keep him from racing over the next fence.
He lived for the arena, and I felt awful that I was depriving him of what he loved most. He loved this; I loved it.
There’d been nothing like it for the past eighteen months, nothing came close .
. . until I watched Hallie jump the first day I saw her on Huxley.
And all the times I’d watched her since.
“Again, boy,” I said as we jumped all but the last three.
Henry turned to a spread fence—his favorite—and cleared it perfectly. I smiled as we cleared the next, then went for the last, a small puissance-type mock-brick wall—but still high for a regular jump.
Henry’s ears flicked forward and he picked up speed.
Then in the way only Henry could, he took flight.
The breeze whipped past my head, and I crouched forward, loosening the reins, giving him the freedom he needed to carry us over smoothly.
When his hooves hit the ground, I wrapped my arms around his neck.
“You never miss, boy,” I said, and ran my hand through his platinum mane.
In the past five years, Henry and I had won over eight Puissance competitions.
It was mostly what we were famous for. Then just like that, my previously full heart fell, and guilt assaulted me.
Bringing Henry to a steady trot, then a walk, I rested my cheek on his neck and said, “I’m so sorry, boy.
I’m sorry you’ve been grounded from what you love.
It’s my fault. I’ve failed you.” My throat felt thick, and I stayed in the arena a while longer, letting him jump again, just to give him some kind of enjoyment.
Resolve built within me. “I’ll make it right,” I said to Henry.
“Somehow, I’ll make it right and get you airborne again. ”
As we cooled down, I noticed a figure in the doorway. My heart slammed into my rib cage until I noticed it wasn’t the petite, raven-haired beauty I’d hoped it was.
Forrest was watching us. I waved at my cousin, and as I approached, he said, “I’m getting Aurelia tacked up. I want a go at this course.”
I raised my eyebrow. “You think you can clear it?”
Forrest ran his hand down Henry’s nose when we came to a stop in front of him.
“My queen can do anything she sets her mind to,” he said, and I dismounted.
After Henry was turned out in the field, I joined Forrest back in the barn.
He was brushing down Aurelia. We had many grooms at Golden Oaks who could do this for us, but none of us had ever gotten tired of grooming or tacking up our horses ourselves.
Plus, this section of the barn was our private sanctuary.
A place only we family members came . . .
Well, us, and a certain Texan cowgirl who had a penchant for breaking in.
Forrest took a curry comb from his brush box and began clearing the mud from Aurelia’s coat after her day rolling in the wet field.
“I’d ride him, you know.” Forrest said, never missing a beat.
I frowned at my cousin. “If you went on the tour, I mean.” Forrest changed brushes to one for Aurelia’s mane.
As he pulled through her knotty strands, he said, “You know I’d take care of him.
I love all our horses as if they were my own. ”
I sighed. “Have you been talking to Atticus by any chance?”
“No,” Forrest said. Bluntly. And I knew he meant it.
He turned to me. “Get away from this place for a bit, Jas. Go to Doha.” He placed his hand on my shoulder.
“Remind yourself of the joy of this business and not just the threats and tragedy you’ve been blinded by.
” A smirk pulled on his lips. “Go and watch your girl jump.”
“She’s not my girl,” I said, clearly too emphatically, if Forrest’s responding sarcastic chuckle was anything to go by.
“I am capable of watching this place. And Genny,” he said, when I opened my mouth to say just that. “Just go on the first leg of the tour. You can micromanage everything there the way you love to here.”