Chapter 29
Shannon
After a while, the messages stopped coming and the unread texts waited on her phone, but she couldn’t bring herself to read them.
Before he’d left for Vegas, she held onto the fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, she could balance her career and still enjoy his company.
But then Niall had to ruin it, just like he always did with anything good in her life.
The ache in her stomach wasn’t just from hunger.
Tears burned behind her eyes as the reality of her decision crashed over her in waves. A crushing sense of shame and heartache tore at her insides, making it impossible to breathe without crying.
She had to cut Jamie off. But that ache in her chest wouldn’t go away. The hurt and regret for what could have been shadowed her every thought.
Shannon had always prided herself on her independence. She’d built a life here, one she couldn’t just walk away from when things got…tough.
She paused, that word rolling around in her mind like an echo.
What Niall did to her was fucking brutal, not tough.
Meeting Jamie had sparked a desire for more than what she had. And now, with him out of the picture, loneliness crept in, settling around her in a way she hadn’t known before.
A cold, emptiness sank into her bones and wouldn’t let her move out from under the duvet she’d dragged to the couch.
With Jamie, life would only get more complicated. Reality hit hard. Walking away would save a shit load of hassle.
Hugging a cushion, Shannon closed her eyes to think everything through.
Leaving Meadow Dawn would be easy. She could find work in another yard, rent a room somewhere else, and move on. But leaving Trixie under Niall’s management wasn’t an option.
Trixie had her heart, and that horse wasn’t just another animal to care for. It was the product of her sweat, dedication, and years of hard work. She couldn’t walk away from that.
She sat up and reached for her wine glass, taking a slow sip. Warmth spread down her throat, but even the third glass hadn’t numbed the pain.
Salty tears rolled down her cheeks, hot and relentless, as the throbbing pain on her right side intensified with each sob.
She winced with every breath. Giving into the pain would only make it worse.
She pulled the sleeve of her sweater over her hand and wiped the streaks away, sniffing.
Her breath stuttered, shaky, before she steeled herself. Huddled on the couch, alone in her loft, she rebuilt her walls, thickening them with a hollowness that would keep her safe.
With stiff, slow movements, she climbed off the couch, cursing under her breath. She hated herself for being so weak, for giving in to the hurt.
She ignored the bruises that still ached, buried the anger and self-loathing deep down where it couldn’t reach her.
Still, every part of her screamed to call Jamie, to explain…and let him back in.
Despite her infatuation with him, the life she had always dreamed of never had him in it. And it never would. She just had to keep it together, to stay out of Niall’s way, and to keep moving forward.
No more men.
No more desire.
She closed that door to her heart, locked it, and threw away the key.
The door handle rattled, snapping Shannon’s attention to high alert. A loud series of thumps followed, and she pulled the duvet tighter around her shoulders .
“Shan, open the bloody door!” Harry’s voice boomed from the other side.
With a heavy sigh, she shuffled toward the door with the duvet swallowing her.
She unlocked the door and cracked it open, peering through the thin gap to see Harry, who took one look at her and winced.
“Jeez, Shan, you look like shit,” he blurted, tactless as ever, but the concern in his eyes was unmistakable.
Shannon couldn’t help the faint, guarded smile that flickered at the corner of her mouth. She had spent hours with Harry every day, more time than she ever spent with her own parents.
It wasn’t that she didn’t love them, but they never truly understood her passion like he did. He’d been her mentor, father figure, and biggest supporter since the first day she sat in the saddle.
Shannon hugged the duvet tighter around her shoulders.
“Flu,” she lied, her gaze dropping.
Harry scratched the silver stubble on his jaw, his eyes scanning her like he could see right through her act.
“Need a doctor? Or your mum?” he asked, a little out of his comfort zone.
“Just need a sick day to recover. I’ll get back to my routine tomorrow, Harry,” she mumbled, swallowing down the lump rising in her throat.
“Okay.” Harry seemed to accept her answer with little more than a skeptical raise of his brow. “Niall’s gone off again. I’ve put Trixie in the walker. If you’re not up to riding tomorrow, I’ll get someone else to take her out for you. I don’t want you riding when you're sick, Shan.”
He tilted his head, waiting for her response, but there was something soft in his gaze now, something that made her want to break.
Her eyes misted, but she blinked the tears away before they could fall.
“How long is he away for?” she asked quietly, the vulnerability in her voice betraying her attempt to keep it together.
“A few weeks, maybe.” Harry shrugged, his expression hardening a little. “He said he was looking for another mare, but at this point, I’ve no fucking clue where he’s gone.”
Shannon nodded, giving nothing away. Giving that asshole airtime in her thoughts would only let him win.
Even though she’d spent hours replaying the vicious cycle, each loop tighter than the last, the anger twisting in her gut.
In the darkest corners of her mind, she wished she’d plunged a bread knife into his back.
“Look, Shan, I’m worried about you. Did the McGrath lad upset you?” Harry’s voice held a protective edge to it.
“No, Harry.” When her voice cracked, she swallowed hard and cleared her throat. “I’m sick.”
For all of Niall’s faults, he was still Harry’s son. They were blood, and blood ran deep. If it came to a choice between her and Niall, Shannon knew she’d be the one kicked out .
“Really, Harry, it’s nothing. I’m just under the weather. I’ll be back at it tomorrow.” She forced herself to glance upward, fighting to keep the tears at bay.
With a heavy sigh, Harry nodded. “Okay.”
He turned to leave but paused, patting her shoulder with a gentleness that made her want to pull away.
“You need to keep your strength up. I’ll bring stew.”
Sweet Jesus, no.
The thought of Harry turning into Meals on Wheels made her stomach drop. She didn’t want sympathy and refused to play the role of a wounded victim.
“It’s okay, I’ve got something defrosting. But thanks.” She lied, forcing another smile.
Harry’s brow furrowed as he folded his arms.
“Come on, Shan, we both know that’s not true.” He gave her a knowing look. “Jump in the Jeep with me. The fire’s lit, and there’s a pot of beef stew simmering.”
Before she could protest, Jackson nudged his way through the gap in the door and pressed his nose to her belly. His big, dark eyes stared up at her, pleading in that silent way dogs did, and Shannon’s heart twisted in response.
She sighed. “Really? Emotional blackmail, Harry? I’m sick, you know? I should be in bed, not spreading my germs.”
“Jackson wants company.” Harry winked, his eyes gleaming with that familiar stubbornness.
He wasn’t backing down.
Shannon backed up, unwilling to give in. “He’s got you to keep him company. ”
“He has me every night. Anyway, he wants to make sure you’re okay.” Harry tipped the peak of his cap, the mischievous glint in his eye betraying the fact that he was using Jackson to get what he wanted.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” Harry said in a firm, no nonsense tone. “I know when my girl’s upset. Let’s go.”
She wanted to argue, to retreat to the comfort of her own space, but Harry wouldn’t drop it. And Jackson’s silent plea was the final nail in the coffin.
“Fine,” she muttered, letting the duvet slip from her shoulders, revealing the long-sleeve top and leggings she’d thrown on earlier, paired with fluffy socks that offered little warmth against the chill.
She wished she could bury herself in isolation, curled under the covers with the last packet of potato chips and the stale end of a two-day-old baguette.
“There it is...” Harry crouched, lifting the whip she hadn’t been able to bring herself to touch. “I’ll put this in the horse lorry for the next comp.”
She’d wrestled with the decision to destroy it or stash it away. On one hand, it held memories of Jamie and on the other, it reminded her of Niall, and the darkness that followed him.
The fucking whip. Her stomach twisted seeing the damn thing in Harry’s hand as he turned away.
“Come on, Shan. Grab a coat,” he shouted over his shoulder. “It’s freezing out here.”
She picked the biggest, thickest waterproof coat she could find and slid into a pair of field boots.
Cloaked in a deep blueberry-coloured raincoat, she pulled the door shut behind her, locked it and trudged down the stone steps. The rain hammered against her hood and bounced off the cobbled yard like stones.
“Are you sure Niall’s not coming back today?” Her voice came out muffled under the sputtering engine after she slid into the passenger seat.
“Come on, old girl.” Harry leaned forward, as if willing the Jeep to move. “Nah. It’s just me, you, and Jackson.”
At the mention of his name, Jackson’s face appeared between the front seats, his tongue lolling out in a happy pant.
The Jeep’s wheels left the cobbles behind, racing onto the uneven path toward the main house. Potholes jostled them with each bump, but Harry didn’t slow down.
He had a thing for speed, and even on this rough track, he handled the wheel with the same precision he did in the saddle.
The house lights twinkled ahead, stark against the pitch-black countryside. When the soles of her boots hit the ground, she winced and stumbled from the Jeep. The alcohol on an empty stomach hadn’t helped much.