Chapter 17
It always starts this way. The nightmare. No—the memory that comes to haunt my nightmares.
I’m ten again, hiding in a small room which never felt safe, the one with peeling paint and the broken lock that never worked right.
Only tonight, I made it work—I shoved the chair under the knob, my skinny arms trembling as I pressed it into place before securing the chair with the small dressing table my mother picked from the trash.
The door rattles.
At first, it’s soft, a test, the scrape of wood against wood. Then his voice comes, low and sweet, making my stomach twist.
“Baby girl, it’s me. C’mon now, open up. I’m not going to hurt you.”
I press harder into the corner, my knees pulled to my chest, hands clamped over my ears. But no matter how tight I press, his voice seeps through. Always does.
The knob jiggles. The door shudders in its frame.
“Don’t you trust me? Don’t you love me? Your mom surely does.” His tone sharpens, the syrupy coaxing snapping like a twig underfoot. “Open the damn door before I kick it down!”
I rock against the wall, the wallpaper gritty against my back, and hum under my breath. Anything to drown him out. My palms are hot against my ears, my heart pounding so hard I swear it will pop from my chest.
He laughs then, high-pitched and jittery. Drugs in his veins and in his voice. “Sweetheart, I’ll be real good to you. Just let me in, yeah? You’ve always wanted a daddy. Let me show you how a daddy loves his daughter. Just for a little while.”
The chair jerks. Wood groans. The door bucks hard enough to send a crack racing down the paint.
“No,” I whisper, though no sound escapes my dry throat. My lips move, but the words are silent.
He slams the door again. The hinges scream.
“Don’t make me mad, girl. You don’t want me mad.”
My whole body shakes as I squeeze tighter into the corner, wishing I could fold myself into the floorboards, vanish through the cracks. The air tastes like dust and panic.
“I should tell them about you,” he rages. “Tell them your mommy’s little secret. But that wouldn’t be fun, would it? Not if they take you from me.”
The door rattles one more time, so hard the chair would have skittered across the floor if it wasn’t for the vanity holding it in place. His breathing fills the silence that follows, sharp and erratic. Then—knuckles rap against the wood, gentle. Now. A sing-song whisper brushing through.
“Please. Please, baby girl. Just let me in.”
I shut my eyes tight, hands clamped over my ears, and rock faster. The sound of his voice fades into static, into the thud of my own pulse, into the darkness that finally swallows everything whole.
In this darkness, I ask myself one question.
Why won’t my mommy protect me?
John gives me Sunday off. Said I “earned it.” Whatever the hell that means. I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
At breakfast, I half-listen as Lee and Jackson go back and forth about their plans for the day—something about taking the horses out on the trails. I push food around my plate, appetite nowhere to be found, still shaking off the edges of last night’s nightmare.
Not any nightmare. That one.
The one about him.
The man my mother dated who still scares the living shit out of me.
An abusive addict who treated her like a punching bag and left me learning how to wedge a dresser against my bedroom door by the time I was ten.
He’s the one who dragged her deeper into every drug under the sun, and the one I’ll never stop seeing when I close my eyes.
“Well? What do you think, Peyton?”
Shaking off the dim thoughts, I turn my attention to Lee, who is looking at me expectantly.
“What?” I ask, missing what he said to me.
“Do you want to go out riding with us?”
I blink owlishly at him for a moment, taking in his question before nodding my head like a Funko Pop. “Sure,” I tell him, unsure of why he is suddenly wanting to spend so much time with me. “But I’m not that great.”
Pace smiles at me from across the table. “Don’t let her fool you,” he teases. “She’s a natural.” My face heats at his praise.
“Great.” Jackson beams at me. “When you’re done eating, get changed, and we will meet you at the barn.”
I shove the rest of my food around until it looks like I made an effort and slip away to change. The jeans I pull on are snug but worn in, comfortable enough for riding, though my boots still feel too new for me to look like I belong here. Story of my life.
By the time I make it to the barn, Lee and Jackson are already saddling up like it’s second nature. The barn smells like hay and leather, warm and familiar.
For a second, I watch them move, the quiet confidence in every step. They belong here. Me? I still feel like an outsider trespassing in someone else’s world.
Lee glances up, flashing me an easy grin. “Jackson brought over some of his horses. They need to be ridden. You’ll be on Smokey. He’s calm enough for a new rider like you.”
I roll my eyes, though I’m secretly relieved he isn’t tossing me on some wild thing to watch me eat dirt. Jackson brings the gelding out, reins in hand, and I take him with more confidence than I feel.
“You remember what Pace taught you?” Jackson asks, his voice more patient than teasing.
“Yeah.” My voice comes out steadier than expected. I adjust the reins, check the stirrups like Pace drilled into me, and haul myself up into the saddle. It’s not exactly graceful since Smokey is bigger than Old Lady May, but I don’t fall on my ass either, so I count it as a win.
“See, Colter?” Pace’s voice cuts in from the other side of the barn. I glance over and catch Colter leaning against a stall door, watching me like he’s got all the time in the world. “Told you she’s a natural.”
Heat climbs up my neck, and I’m suddenly very aware of the fact I’m sitting on a horse while he simply stares at me. I mutter something under my breath and nudge Smokey forward, earning a low chuckle from the boys that follows me out into the sunlight.
The three of us head toward the trails, the morning air cool against my skin, the sky stretched wide and endless above us.
For the first time since I woke, I feel the nightmare loosening its grip.
Out here, with the rhythm of Smokey’s gait beneath me and the quiet thud of hooves against dirt, it almost feels like I can breathe.
The trail opens into rolling hills, golden grass swaying against a backdrop of pine.
For a while, it’s hooves drumming steady beneath us, and the wind catching strands of my hair loose from my braid.
For the next hour or so, I let myself sink into it, chest loosening with each breath of clean air.
No city noise, no slamming doors, no fists pounding walls. It is only open space.
“Not bad, huh?” Lee calls back, grinning like a kid with no worries in the world.
“Yeah,” I admit before I can stop myself. “Not bad at all.”
Jackson shoots him a look, his mouth quirking into the same mischievous smile I’ve learned usually means trouble. “Bet I can beat you to the ridge.”
“You wish.” Lee kicks his horse forward, and the two of them take off, whooping like maniacs.
“Wait—hey!” I call, half laughing, half panicking as Smokey pricks his ears and shifts under me. He doesn’t bolt after them, thank God, but he tosses his head like he’s not thrilled about being left behind. “Guess it’s you and me, buddy.”
I keep him steady, following at a slower pace, trying to pretend the hollow in my stomach isn’t there. The trail narrows between rocks, quiet except for the buzz of insects. Then I hear it.
A sharp, unmistakable rattle.
My blood goes cold. Smokey hears it too—ears shooting forward, muscles bunching beneath me. “Easy,” I whisper, but it’s already too late. A rattlesnake slides across the trail, and Smokey explodes.
He rears back on his hind legs and I struggle to keep hold of him before he surges forward, head high, hooves pounding dirt as he bolts off the path.
My hands fumble with the reins, my stomach lurching with every jolt.
Branches slap my arms, my vision blurs, and I can’t do anything but cling to the saddle as he tears through the brush.
“Shit—whoa, Smokey! Easy!” My voice cracks, but he’s blind with fear.
And then, like some cruel twist of fate, I hear another voice, sharp, commanding, cutting through the chaos.
“Pull him to the left! Now!”
Colter.
I barely register him before a dark blur comes up alongside me, his stallion running hard. His hand shoots out, gripping Smokey’s reins below the bit, yanking the gelding’s head around in a tight circle. The horse stumbles, fighting the pressure, then finally shudders to a halt, sides heaving.
My hands shake so hard I almost drop the reins. I’m gasping, my entire body trembling as the adrenaline catches up with me.
Colter is already next to me, leaning toward me in his saddle, his hand closing around my thigh before I can even process he’s there. “Easy,” he says low, eyes flashing up at me, furious and relieved all at once. “You hurt?”
I shake my head, too breathless to answer.
He doesn’t look convinced. His hand lingers, steadying me in the saddle like he’s not letting go until he’s damn sure I’m in one piece.
I’m still trembling, my knuckles white on the reins, but no matter how tight I try to hold them, my fingers won’t stop shaking. They slip, useless, and Smokey sidesteps beneath me like he knows I’ve got no control.
Colter notices. Of course he does. His jaw flexes, and before I can argue, his hands are on me. Strong. Certain.
“Let go.”
“I—I won’t be able to—”
“You don’t need to.” His voice is rough, final. In one fluid motion, he grips me by the waist and hauls me clean off Smokey’s back. A startled sound tears from my throat as he lifts me like I weigh nothing, settling me across his saddle. Right in front of him.