Chapter 32
THEN
Early August
Something had changed.
The way we were. Even the way he looked at me. It was different.
Except, it was also familiar.
We’d been here before. Two years ago.
I let out a sigh, leaning back against the kitchen counter as I watched Ryan move around the room, popping bread in the toaster, pouring himself an orange juice, almost as though I wasn’t even there.
On the surface, everything was supposed to be better now. We were back together. Living together. Building something real after everything that had happened.
But it didn’t really feel like that. It felt like I was watching him slip away again.
‘Maybe we could do something at the weekend,’ I suggested, breaking the silence. ‘Go somewhere. Just the two of us.’
Ryan paused, the carton of orange juice poised halfway back into the fridge.
‘I told Dad I’d give him a hand with repairing the back fence.’
Disappointment crashed down on me.
‘Will it take all weekend?’ I was conscious my voice sounded whiny and desperate, but I didn’t care.
‘No, but…’
‘You’ll be too exhausted to go anywhere afterwards.’ Desperation slipped into dejection.
‘You know what it’s like,’ Ryan said with a slight shrug, finally sliding the orange juice into place before closing the fridge door firmly, as though that ended the conversation.
‘I could give you a hand,’ I suggested.
‘At the stables?’ Ryan looked stunned.
It wasn’t ideal. But at least we could spend the day together.
‘It’ll go faster with more hands,’ I reasoned, secretly hoping we might manage to do something on Sunday that way.
‘It’ll be hard work,’ Ryan said cautiously.
‘I know.’
Silence.
‘You’re worried your mum won’t want me there,’ I said flatly.
His family would never accept me.
They never had.
Two Years Ago – Late July
‘Hey, Ryan, have you seen the liveries record book?’ I asked as I poked my head into the kitchen. ‘I’ve turned the office upside down but I can’t find it.’
‘I think Dad had it last night.’
I frowned. ‘He did? Why?’
Ryan shrugged as he filled his water bottle. ‘I guess he just wants to keep an eye on things. After that mishap with the feed invoice, you can’t blame him.’
‘I told you—’
‘Yeah, I know, it wasn’t your fault,’ he cut in, sounding frustrated.
My shoulders slumped. ‘You still don’t believe me.’
‘These things happen,’ he said, giving me a kiss on my cheek as he passed. ‘Take a look on Dad’s desk in the living room, he probably left the book there.’
I opened my mouth, ready to protest my innocence again, but closed it quickly. What was the point? He was never going to believe me.
Not over Charlotte.
I walked through to the living room and peered at the chaotic collection of papers and notebooks on Martin’s desk. It was almost as bad as the office in the stables had been.
‘Aha,’ I murmured satisfactorily as I spotted the liveries record book, buried beneath a discharge letter from the hospital. I pushed it aside and picked up the book. But my attention snagged as two words jumped out from the page.
Cardiac event.
I frowned. Not a heart attack? Or was that just the medical terminology?
Unease churned in my stomach as I pulled my phone from my pocket and quickly typed into Google: ‘Difference between cardiac event and heart attack’.
My eyes skimmed the results. ‘Cardiac event’ was a broad term. Heart attacks fell within it. But so did less severe cardiac episodes.
I scrolled further down. Typical hospital stays after a heart attack ranged from several days to over a week.
Martin had been in hospital six days. That was consistent.
But something still felt off. I turned back to the discharge letter, reading it fully this time.
Presentation atypical for myocardial infarction.
My frown deepened and I typed the unfamiliar phrase into Google. Myocardial infarction was the medical term for a heart attack.
My pulse quickened. So did ‘atypical’ mean Martin hadn’t actually had a heart attack? Did that mean his condition wasn’t as serious as everyone had first thought?
But, if that was true, why hadn’t Ryan told me?
Did he know?
I slid the papers carefully back into place and walked back across the yard.
‘Ryan,’ I called as I approached the paddock where he was saddling a horse.
He nodded at me. ‘You found it then.’
I glanced at the liveries record book nestled under my arm. ‘Yeah, thanks. But…’
I licked my lips.
How could I ask him if his dad was really as sick as everyone thought?
‘How about we go out for dinner tonight?’ I suggested. ‘Just you and me. We can start thinking about what we want to do when we leave here—’
‘Leave?’ Ryan stared at me. ‘My dad’s only been out of hospital a few days, Kirsty. He’s going to be off his feet for a few weeks yet. Now isn’t the time to start thinking about ourselves.’
‘Yeah, but he’s doing really well, and—’
‘We almost lost him.’
‘I know that. But that doesn’t mean our lives have to completely stop.’
‘He’s my dad,’ Ryan said. ‘I know you’re not close to yours, but mine matters to me.’
I opened my mouth to object, but the words wouldn’t come. How could he dismiss my feelings so easily? My relationship with my family was complicated and painful. But that didn’t mean they didn’t matter. At least to me.
Ryan turned his back to me, his attention focused on tightening the saddle. I turned away and almost walked straight into Charlotte as she approached us.
I swallowed. How much had she heard?
I gave her a quick nod of acknowledgement as I stepped around her and hurried towards the stables, trying to keep my composure.
‘Why is she even here?’
I froze as Charlotte’s voice carried from behind me.
‘My parents needed me home. You know that,’ Ryan said.
I hugged the liveries book to my chest as I looked back, hoping they didn’t turn and see me spying on them.
‘Yeah, they needed you. Not some clueless city girl who’s afraid of horses.’
Heat rushed to my face.
‘She came with me,’ Ryan replied, as though it was obvious. He gave a short firm nod, like that settled it. He said it with such certainty, as though it was obvious. Natural.
After all, it was. Wasn’t it?
‘Denise isn’t exactly thrilled you’ve let her loose on Blackwater business,’ Charlotte said.
‘She’s helping,’ Ryan replied.
‘Is she?’ The tone of her voice made her own opinion on it very clear.
I waited for Ryan to say yes, say something.
There was just silence.
My skin bristled. But, still, I couldn’t deny she had a point.
Ryan shifted awkwardly. He looked uncomfortable. Almost guilty.
I frowned. Guilty of what? That didn’t make sense.
‘Or is there more to it than that?’ I asked, my eyes narrowing slightly. ‘Is something going on?’ I wasn’t entirely sure what I was asking. There was nothing concrete. Just an instinct. An unnerving one.
‘I keep telling you, I just have a lot on.’
I shook my head. ‘No, it’s more than that. You seem… different. Distant.’
Ryan exhaled sharply. ‘Why do you always do this? Try and make something of nothing?’
His accusation stung.
‘You just don’t seem to be happy recently. With me,’ I added quietly.
‘I’m here, aren’t I?’
I gritted my teeth. He was doing it again. Shutting me out.
‘Then talk to me,’ I said, imploringly. ‘Let me in.’
Ryan looked away.
‘Why don’t we talk about it later?’ he said finally.
Later. It was always later.
I blinked rapidly, feeling my eyes welling with tears. I wouldn’t cry. At least not in front of him. It would only make things more strained. More pressured.
I was already losing him. They were pulling him back in. To the stables. To them.
And I was—
What?
Just here.
Just waiting.
Trying not to push. Not to be too demanding. Too much.
Trying to fit.
But I couldn’t help but wonder if I ever really had.