Chapter 3
The wall of Red’s stall was a record of Hayleigh’s childhood, mounted with ribbons and trophies alongside photos from dressage events all around the country.
She had been aware from an early age that the only way to access her mother completely was from the back of a horse, and so her evenings and weekends had been spent riding, repeating figures until they were perfect.
The only acceptable placement was first, and whenever she’d achieved it, basking in the radiance of her mother’s pride had felt worth every ache, every bruise, every missed social event.
But she’d never made it as far as Luda, who had qualified for the Olympics. Hayleigh’s career had peaked at regional competitions, and the onetime radiance of her mother’s pride soured to disappointment.
She could still remember what Luda had said at her final competition, and the way she had said it—like Hayleigh was a low-return investment.
“Everything handed to you, and you still couldn’t do it. I had to work at a stable to earn time on a horse and look what I achieved.”
But though her competitive career had ended, Hayleigh hadn’t stopped riding.
In fact, once the pressure was gone, she’d learned to love it again in a way she’d lost in the throes of competition.
She’d ridden less in recent years because Grayson swore the “horse stink” was overwhelming even if she showered and changed after.
Personally, she found it comforting. She took a deep breath of the musky mix of hay, saddle soap, leather, and meadow, and immediately felt stiller; calmer.
Despite Grayson’s protests, she’d never gone too long without a ride. The constant humming of thoughts quieted whenever she picked up the reins. In the saddle, she owed Red a presence in the moment that she found difficult to achieve for her own sake, but she was happier when she did.
As she gathered up her grooming supplies, she dialed her middle sister. Kelsey picked up after two rings.
“Hayleigh, hey.” Kelsey’s voice was high and airy, like a cirrus cloud.
In the background, there was a clear tinkle of laughter within splashing water.
“Where are you right now?” asked Hayleigh.
“Antigua. Flying out in a few days.”
She didn’t understand the course of events that had led her sister to a career where she wore a bikini full time. Nor did their parents, who had threatened to cut Kelsey off over it.
But the middle Gray daughter had refused to bend to their threats and continued living a lifestyle that filled her social media accounts with photos of crystalline beaches and aquamarine waves.
That was why Hayleigh had called her and not their eldest sister, Chelsea, who had married the exact sort of man her parents had hoped she would and already produced three grandchildren.
Chelsea’s trust was fully paid out.
“I need your advice on something,” said Hayleigh, grabbing a pick and urging Red’s leg up so she could clear grime from the grooves of his hooves.
There was a snort on the other end of the line. “My advice, really?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ve made it pretty clear you don’t approve of my life choices.”
“That’s not true!”
“Then how come every time Colt and Luda snipe me, you’re totally silent?
” The subject had mainly come up at family dinners, as their parents dug into Kelsey for what they referred to as her “hedonistic lifestyle.” That the accusations flew over meals of Kobe beef, grass-fed butter, white truffle risotto, and three-hundred-dollar Napa cabs was an irony lost on her parents.
“I like every single one of your photos.”
“Only because Mom and Dad aren’t online.”
Ugh. It was true. Hayleigh took a deep breath. “Yeah, that’s fair…I’m sorry.”
A sigh. “I get it. None of us are great at standing up to Colt and Luda.” Kelsey exclusively referred to their parents by their given names. “So, what do you need?”
“Advice on standing up to them.”
“Wait, what?” Kelsey’s voice perked up. “Is my little sister finally considering rebellion?”
“No. Well, not exactly…” Hayleigh sighed as she finished the last of the four hooves and swapped the pick for a serrated currycomb.
Its steel rings sprang in her hand as they loosened crusted debris from Red’s coat.
“I need money. Mom won’t let me into my trust unless I agree to a few things.
First, that I give Grayson another chance… ”
“Hold up—you’re telling me you finally broke up with him?”
“Months ago. Has it really been that long since we talked?”
She tried to do the math but couldn’t think of when the last call had been, which was definitely a bad sign.
“Oh, hell yeah.” Kelsey’s voice lowered as she turned it away from the phone. “Hey, my little sister finally dumped her creep of a fiancé!”
There was a chorus of cheers. Somewhere in the waters of Antigua, a group of rum-soaked partygoers were celebrating her life choices from a circle of floaties in a glimmering seascape.
“I mean, he’s not a creep exactly.”
“Sure he is. He’s basically Colt 2.0. They both buy into that ‘men are the heads of the household’ nonsense, right?”
Hayleigh was silent as she ran the comb repeatedly through a tough spot on Red’s flank, creating a cloud of fine dirt particles and russet hair that enveloped them both.
Yes, her father and Grayson had that in common, and more. As heads of households, they both held high expectations for themselves and required those around them to adhere to equally high expectations. Plus, they liked things to be a certain way.
Liked her to be a certain way.
An uneasy feeling swept through her gut. “Well, that’s not even actually the worst part. They also want me to move back in for a while.”
There was a sharp inhale of breath on the other end of the line. “Don’t do it. For real. Sell your blood or something.”
“You either drastically overestimate the price of blood or underestimate the cost of living in Bellevue.”
“Your body, then.”
“I’m not going to do that.”
Kelsey sighed. “Well, I wish I could lend you some, but this job pays mainly in tans and vibes.”
Hayleigh set aside the currycomb and picked up a brush, sweeping everything that had been loosened free and leaving Red’s coat shining like a penny straight from the mint.
“I appreciate it, but that wasn’t why I called.
I think I only…needed to talk to someone who would understand why saying yes to this is hard. ”
“Which I do.” Her sister’s voice was soft. “I also understand being desperate, and if you need to take it, you need to take it. But if you have any other options…like, literally any. Well, personally, I’ll be rooting for you to take them instead.”
It was hard to see what those could possibly be, but still she said, “Thanks, Kelsey.”
“I better get back to it. This belly isn’t going to flop itself!”
More cheers in the background, and then the phone went quiet.
Hayleigh set aside the brush and went for clippers to trim Red’s face but realized they weren’t in her pile of grooming tools.
There was a clattering, and she spun on her heel.
The clippers sat on the concrete floor just outside the stall.
She froze, staring. There was a rustling deeper in the stables. “Gordon? Is that you?”
No reply. She found herself thinking of another story.
This one about a creature that lived in the stables, protecting the animals.
There’d been a fire at Emerald Trails when she was eight, but miraculously all the stalls had been left unlatched that night and the horses had escaped unharmed.
On hearing the story, her grandfather had nodded knowingly and said, “Dvorovoy.”
“Coincidence,” her mother had shot back. “Like all things, feeble minds try to assign meaning with folk tales.”
Hayleigh had probably just dropped the clippers on her way in. Her breath hitched in her chest as she stepped out to snatch them up, but when nothing popped from the shadows, she relaxed and returned to Red.
Before she could start clipping, he pressed his muzzle straight into her chest, and she took a deep inhale of his musky horse smell. She pressed her face to his forehead and ran her fingers down the velvet of his coat, combing out his coarse champagne-colored mane with her fingers.
“Am I really going to do this, Red?”
He didn’t reply. How could he? How unfair was it that her best friend in the world stood on the other side of an impassable communication divide?
Her fingers stalled over something unexpected—a lump in the horse’s throat latch she hadn’t noticed before. She maneuvered around to take in its full shape, feeling out a mass that was hard and unforgiving. The horse flicked his head in irritation as she touched it, giving a whinny and a stomp.
It couldn’t be…It wasn’t…
If it was what she thought it was, and if she lost Red too, well—that would be it for Hayleigh Gray.
There was now no doubt in her mind that she was cursed.
And she knew exactly who was to blame.