Chapter 30
Shannon
Shannon slept as though her mattress was stuffed with nails, her body aching with every turn.
The morning brought no relief, only the misery of the same routine. The shower trickled and warm water flowed over her bruises.
She couldn’t bring herself to look at her reflection, not after everything. Looking down was hard enough, seeing the marks in all their raw glory, more than she could tolerate.
With careful movements, she redressed in a long-sleeve top and breeches, covering herself from neck to toe.
Practical base layers would protect her from the brutal wind that howled like a demon outside and safeguard the mess underneath.
Eventually, the bruises would fade, but the mental scars would stay with her forever.
Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that the cupboards were bare. The last packet of potato chips and a mug of green tea acted as breakfast because the thought of grocery shopping made her head hurt.
A task she’d have to face eventually…just not today.
With a resigned sigh, she pressed the small button on the side of her phone, watching as it came to life. A flurry of beeps flooded the screen—over twenty-five missed calls and unread messages, all from Jamie, the final one a solitary question mark.
She couldn’t bring herself to open them. Her heart sank as she stared at the notifications, hating herself for leaving him unread, without even a goodbye.
He deserved a response, but she couldn’t face it.
Truth was, he’d move on and find someone else to play with, if he hadn’t already met a new woman in Vegas. Jamie didn’t do emotions. He did sex. Great fucking sex.
Outside, Harry was lunging Trixie in the sand paddock, preparing for Shannon’s first lesson since the attack. Getting back in the saddle would remind her why she’d stayed and help her focus on training instead.
“You should’ve stayed the night, Shannon,” Harry said, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “You know there’s always a bed made up for you in the guest room. Are you sure it was just the flu?”
She kept her gaze on the sand, nodding as joined him.
“I just wasn’t feeling well. You know, woman stuff. But your stew…it made me feel better. It always does. You’ve always looked out for me, Harry.”
She leaned in for a quick hug, resting her cheek on his shoulder, inhaling the familiar smell of his waxy jacket.
His arms closed around her, his tight hold sending a jolt of pain through her bruised arm. Still, she let him hold her, needing the comfort, wanting the connection.
She blinked back tears, swallowing the lump rising in her throat.
“Let’s get started,” she said, her voice strained.
Harry squeezed her wrist when she pulled back.
“We won’t stay out too long. There’s a storm brewing.” He nodded toward the darkening sky. “After this, come up to the house for lunch.”
She nodded and climbed onto the mounting block, running her hands over Trixie’s withers.
As much as she despised Niall for everything he’d taken from her, a swell of relief washed over her knowing Trixie would be safe with her around. He may have won this time, but it would be the last time he ever hurt her.
Hatred coursed through her like a hot current, every part of her body aching for revenge.
Fucking bastard.
Lying to her boss at Coffee Kicks had only deepened her humiliation. She hated the lies, the deceit, but there was no way she could face a week of shifts, or the people she’d have to pretend to be okay in front of.
She settled into the saddle, welcoming the familiar comfort of it, the place where she truly came alive. There was nowhere else on earth she’d rather be.
Trixie would be her salvation. And Jamie was just a fantasy .
Harry fiddled with the bridle while Shannon strapped on her gloves and clicked the safety clasp of her helmet into place. Gathering up the reins, she squeezed gently, urging Trixie forward.
The training session started with a warm-up, then flowed into a course of jumps.
Shannon rode with fierce determination, her body in perfect sync with Trixie. The mare responded well, clearing each fence with ease.
She focused on the strides and the rhythm, the tight precision of every movement bringing her a sense of control, a thrill to temporarily drown out all her emotions.
A low engine growl grew louder, followed by the unmistakable sound of a fast car.
“Jamie’s here!” Harry shouted as Shannon cleared the final oxer.
The sound of his name cut through her focus. Her heart thudded in her chest, and before she could stop herself, her eyes snapped to the laneway.
Jamie McGrath stepped out of his glossy blue Mustang.
His suit jacket clung to his broad, muscular torso, and his choppy hair, just messy enough to look intentional, made her stomach flip.
He walked with a confident, purposeful stride, his eyes landing on her straight away.
The world around her seemed to freeze.
Shit.
Shock gripped her throat, tight and sudden, making it hard to breathe. The surprise of seeing him when he should’ve been in Vegas froze her in place, sending a shiver through her.
Without thinking, she urged Trixie into a brisk canter, guiding the mare toward the back of the paddock.
Her hands moved almost mechanically, fumbling with the back gate that led to the bridal paths, her body tense and hurried as she tried to make sense of the rush of emotions that swirled inside her.
“Shannon! What are you doing? The lesson isn’t over!” Harry called out, his words swallowed by the pounding in her ears.
Above her, crows circled like vultures, their harsh screeching mirroring the chaos churning inside her.
Don’t look at him. Don’t look back.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, each thump a painful reminder of the vulnerability she couldn’t afford to show.
She wasn’t ready to face him. Not yet. How could she look him in the eye and pretend to be strong?
Her mind raced, torn between the need to escape and the ache to be close to him again.
Fighting against the pull of her own emotions, Shannon jerked her head around, finding Jamie marching toward the paddock with fierce determination.
I don’t need him. I don’t need anyone. I just want to be alone.
But the thought rang hollow, a lie she couldn’t escape.
With a squeeze of her legs, Trixie responded, her excitement palpable. The mare kicked out with a playful buck, her hind legs propelling her into a full gallop.
Icy rain lashed against Shannon’s face, soaking her through as Trixie carried her beneath the rain clouds, the winter storm breaking.
Tumbling thoughts crashed through her mind, but none of it mattered anymore.
The wind whipped at her cheeks, stinging her eyes, but the adrenaline surged, burning with reckless impulse.
Trixie’s pounding hooves thudded against the earth, the rhythm vibrating through her core, filling her chest with raw power.
She was free. Safe. Out of reach.
This was where she was meant to be—galloping toward freedom, hunting for her resurrection. The green fields stretched out for miles, framed by skeletal trees that creaked and twisted in the storm.
Shannon finally found a moment of solace in the mouth of a forest, a place to hide from the battering wind.
She inhaled the damp, pin scented air, letting it fill her lungs with a mixture of recklessness and cowardice. Running away was irrelevant now.
Jamie would get the hint and leave, and she’d fade into the background.
As she took shelter in the forest, time slipped away from her, unnoticed. Eventually, she turned back, knowing it was time to get Trixie home.
The wind picked up to a violent gale, the rain now soaking through to her underwear. Slowing Trixie to a trot as she re-entered the paddock, Shannon scanned the yard for his Mustang.
He’d gone.
The clip-clop of hooves in the yard alerted Bucky to their return. He rushed out of the tack room, shielding his eyes from the pelting rain as it lashed down.
“What the hell are you playing at, Shannon? It’s been over an hour,” he gritted out.
“I needed to clear my head,” she said, dismounting.
“Clear your head or catch pneumonia?” Bucky snapped back. “I was going to hunt you down myself.”
He grabbed the reins.
“Give her here. I’ll get her sorted. Go and dry off. You shouldn’t pull stupid shit like that, especially with the comps coming up. You’ve put in too much effort to let it all fall apart now.”
A raindrop trickled down her nose, falling off the tip as she nodded. “I know, Bucky. Sorry.”
“Has this got anything to do with Niall?” Bucky’s words made Shannon stiffen, her pulse quickening.
What did he know? What had he seen?
“No… I... It’s complicated.” She waved her hand, trying to brush it off.
Bucky scowled, his face hidden beneath the brim of his soaked cap. “Everything is fucking complicated with that bastard.”
Shannon walked to the tack room, the cold seeping into her skin. She stripped off her jacket, helmet, and gloves, hanging them to dry.
Her hands shook as she unzipped her half chaps, kicked off her boots, and tiptoed up the stone steps in wet socks.
Even though the door was unlocked, she let out a breath of relief, thankful Niall wasn’t around to barge in on her again.
Darting inside, she locked the door behind her and shook out her hair. A deep sigh puffed from her lips, her cheeks flushed from the cold.
She tugged her long-sleeve top over her head, tossing it onto the floor in a soggy heap.
Then, a voice cut through the silence. “What the fuck?”
Shannon froze, her body going rigid. She turned to find Jamie standing in the kitchen, a towel in his hand and his gaze locked on her bruises.
“They weren’t there when I last saw you,” he said, his voice thick. “What the hell is going on, Shannon? Who the fuck did that to you?”