Chapter 13 – Kev
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
KEV
She stood directly in the path of the late afternoon sun, a black silhouette against a flood of orange light, difficult to see at all without squinting.
Hiding in plain sight? Kev thought with a smirk. Nice try, but I am a master of that particular trick.
“How we doing today, River?” he asked, keeping his voice low, petting Eleanor’s matted fur from her perch on the fence.
Every day after he was done working with Jen and her other horses, he’d find himself out here, standing at her fence. He’d wait. He’d watch. Sometimes he talked to River while she either turned around and ambled toward the other side of her pasture or stood in one place, locking eyes with him in a staring contest she always won. He wasn’t sure why he kept coming out here to be with this mare who seemed to want nothing more than to be left alone. But he did, every day. And maybe it was working. Because today, she’d come closer to the fence, to him, than she ever had before.
“I’ve got something for you.” Slowly, he pulled the brightest and reddest apple he’d found in Jen’s stash from his pocket and held it out over the fence .
Her right ear flicked toward him, and then her left.
His lips curved into a smile. “Are you hungry?”
She blinked at him, her long, black lashes feathering her cheeks.
“It’s all yours, if you want it.” He was tempted to shield his eyes from the piercing sunlight, but he didn’t want to startle her with too much movement. He really needed to get himself a hat. He’d managed to save up a few bucks. Maybe he’d ask Madigan for a Goodwill trip. “All you have to do is come and get it.”
He could have sworn River narrowed her eyes at him, sizing him up, ultimately deciding he wasn’t worth the effort. He almost put the apple back in his pocket, but then Eleanor chirped a little meow, and River turned, swished her tail, and took a single step in his direction.
He barely breathed.
She took another step.
“Atta girl,” he whispered. “I’m not so bad. Promise.”
After another step that brought her within six feet of him, she looked at the cat, then at the apple, then she looked up at him, then back at the apple again. She was so close, just a few more steps. All she had to do was?—
“Kev? You okay?”
Damn.
“Hey, Jen,” he said. “I’m good. Just saying hi to River.” When he turned back toward the mare, she was already heading to the other side of her pasture with Eleanor trailing behind her, chattering up a storm.
“I saw that,” Jen said, joining him at the fence. “Sorry I interrupted. She was really close, though. I think she likes you.”
Heat flooded his cheeks, his blush intensifying while he gathered his nerve to ask, “Do you think I could try to work with her? Train her? Like, when I’m done with the therapy stuff.”
During his time at Strawberry Farms, he’d mindfully groomed, meditated on horseback while riding the trails, and learned how to do groundwork without any lead lines, running and turning and jumping with the horses because they wanted to run and turn and jump with him. Because they trusted him. He’d never experienced anything so exhilarating as sprinting as fast as he could before sliding to a dead stop with a one-thousand-pound horse doing the exact same thing beside him.
When he spent time with the horses, he felt focused, calm, centered. They didn’t care if he was happy or sad or quiet. They only cared that he was there, giving them his full attention, listening, learning, trying. Even cleaning stalls gave him a sense of peace, starting with something filthy and foul—because some of Jen’s horses absolutely destroyed their stalls—and cleaning it up, smoothing the fresh shavings out, making it nice. He was even gaining an appreciation for the nineties country music station Jen always streamed through the barn speakers, believe it or not.
He still thought about Davis every second of every day. They hadn’t talked since the bomb-drop on the trails, and it still hurt whenever he saw her, like he was a fresh bruise and she was the thumb pressing down. But he could see it in her eyes, the way he pressed down on her too.
He wasn’t giving up on her, on them. He couldn’t. He was only trying to listen to Clay and Tex and focus on himself. Because while he owed Davis so many things, none of them were as important as working his ass off to figure out how he’d fallen apart. It was the only way to make sure that if she ever did consider letting him back into her life, she’d never have to worry about him hurting her like that again.
And somehow, though he wasn’t sure how yet, River was part of that work. There was something about her story, something about those scars she had that nobody else could see.
“Do you really want this?” Jen asked, giving him a troubled look. “Because I want you to be here for you, Kev. Not to help me train my horses for free.”
Setting the apple on top of the fence for River to eat once they were out of sight, Kev turned to walk with Jen back toward the barn. “I think this would be for me,” he said, kicking at a rock in his path. “I feel like she and I…” He wasn’t sure how to say what he wanted to say without sounding ridiculous. It doesn’t matter if you sound ridiculous. “I think we might have a lot in common. I want to help her. If I can.”
“Then yes. Absolutely.” Jen smiled up at him. “That would be amazing.”
“Really?”
“Are you kidding?” She scoffed. “I think River is one lucky mare that you’re interested in working with her. I certainly don’t have the time to do it. She deserves more of a chance than I’ve been able to give her.” Slowing to a stop, she turned to face him. “But I just want you to prepare yourself, because she may not come around. Even with all the time and patience and understanding we can give them, some horses who’ve been mistreated never learn to trust again. It won’t be your fault or your failure if she doesn’t, okay?”
Fighting the urge to rub at the ache in his chest, at the bruise in the perfect shape of Davis’s thumb, he said, “Yeah, okay.” And though they walked the rest of the way in silence, his mind churned. She may never come around. No matter what I do, she may never trust me again. I have to find a way to be okay with it. I have to find a ? —
“Shit,” Jen hissed, reaching an arm out, soccer-momming him back a step as a big, red four-seater side-by-side came tearing down the driveway. “Not again.”
He was about to ask what was not-againing when she took off, marching toward the side-by-side with purpose.
“Sorry, Jen,” Bud from the hardware store said, opening the driver’s side door and stepping out. “Jimmy cut him off, and I found him wandering around town. I tried to drive him to his hotel this time. I really did. But he would only let me drive him here.”
Jen exhaled sharply through her nose. “It’s okay, Bud. Thank you for making sure he’s safe.”
Bud repositioned his blue trucker hat on his head, looked a little like he wanted to say something else, changed his mind, then nodded. Finally noticing Kev standing there—they’d met a few times when Kev had used his I’m too high to drive Uber services—Bud said, “Oh. Hey, Kev. Wanna help us out?”
“Um, sure,” Kev said warily. While Bud walked around to the back seat, Kev followed behind with extreme caution, half expecting snakes to jump out when Jen opened the door. But she only shook her head, stepped to the side, and said, “Kev, meet Scott Shaw. My husband.”
Kev peered into the side-by-side at the middle-aged dark-haired man currently passed out cold in the back seat. “Is he okay?”
“He’ll have a mother of a hangover.” Bud sighed, also shaking his head. “But he’ll survive.”
“Come on,” Jen said in a way that sounded rehearsed, practiced, like this wasn’t the first time this had happened. Like it wouldn’t be the last. “Let’s get him into the barn.”
While Kev and Bud rolled Scott out of the side-by-side, the smell of whiskey rolled out with him, practically seeping from his pores. Barely getting him onto his feet, they slung his thick, muscular, and outrageously heavy arms over their shoulders. The dude was taller than Madigan and absolutely yoked.
“Who er you?” Scott grumbled, his head wobbling on his neck while he tried to take Kev in.
Before Kev could answer, Scott’s brown eyes lit up, his lips slanting into a sloppy but somehow also disarming smile. “There she is,” he slurred, his gaze focusing entirely on Jen. “Hey, darlin’.”
“Don’t hey, darlin’ me,” Jen snapped, turning away and striding toward the barn to open the door. “You can’t keep doing this, Scott.”
Bud grunted while he and Kev more or less dragged Scott through the door and down the hall, depositing him onto a couch in the room off Jen’s office that seemed set up for estranged husbands who needed to sleep off day-long benders. There was a soft pillow for his head, a warm blanket for the rest of him, a little lamp on a table, a glass that looked like it had been filled with water somewhat recently.
Kev wondered if this had been Scott’s office when he’d still lived here. Especially when he noticed the far wall, where there were at least twenty pictures of Scott either standing next to or sitting on top of a well-muscled, broad-chested buckskin, each one with some sort of ribbon or championship buckle around its neck. Each one showing the man currently sprawled face down on the couch smiling, well groomed, handsome as hell, and brimming with confidence, looking like someone in complete control of his world.
And then there was the picture above the couch of that same buckskin, standing in its pasture with the sun glowing behind it and an epitaph engraved on the plaque at the bottom of the frame that read:
Rebel Doc Hollywood “Bucky”
2010-2021
Now you can eat all the pizza you want, big guy
“I’m sorry,” Scott said, rolling onto his side and nestling into his pillow while Jen knelt beside the couch and pulled the covers over him. “Don’t hate me, darlin’. Just needed to see your face.”
“Jen, I’m gonna head back to work,” Bud said softly from the door. “If you’re all good here, that is.”
Looking at Bud over her shoulder, her red braid sliding across her back, she said, “I’m good. Thanks again, Bud. I’ll Venmo you for the ride.”
He took off his hat, held it in front of his chest. “Come on, Jen. I’ll just refund you. He’s always on the house. You know that.”
Reaching out behind her, she squeezed Bud’s hand. Then she turned back to her husband and sighed while Eleanor climbed onto the couch and nestled herself into the nook of Scott’s bent knees. “See you next time.”
“Probably so,” Bud said. Then he nodded at Kev before walking through the door.
The entire scene was so recurrently bleak, and Kev suddenly felt like an intruder. Especially when Scott grabbed Jen’s hand. When he said “I’m sorry” again, and she told him, “I know, Scott. You’re always sorry.” Especially when he closed his eyes, and she brushed his hair back off his forehead, tucking the blanket in around him, never letting go of his hand.
And then it wasn’t Scott and Jen in that room anymore. It was Kev passed out on that couch. It was Davis kneeling beside him, taking care of him, making sure he was safe and warm while he slept it off. It was Kev sprawled out on a mattress on the floor. It was Davis watching Madigan pump him full of Narcan. It was Davis telling him, “I’m glad you’re doing well. I’m glad you’re safe,” when he’d returned to Bluebird. It was the meaning behind those words he hadn’t truly understood until now. He hadn’t understood, because he hadn’t ever put himself in her shoes. He hadn’t been where he was now, watching the fallout, seeing the worry and the pain and the fucking indefensible selfishness of all of it.
In that moment, with awareness blazing through him like a bolt of lightning that started at his feet and shot for the sky, he knew it would never be him on that mattress again. It would never be him on that couch. It would never be someone he loved having to watch. Having to say “I’m glad you’re safe” after he’d decided to throw his entire life away for something that only wanted to destroy him.
He was done. For good.
When Jen dropped her head, resting her forehead on the couch, still holding Scott’s hand, Kev didn’t think she was crying. He didn’t even think she was sad. Just utterly exhausted.
“How often does he?—”
“Too often,” she said, her voice muffled and far away.
He wanted to tell Jen that he was sorry too, that she shouldn’t have to deal with this, that her husband needed to get his shit together. But the hypocrisy of that would have been laughable. And nothing about this situation was funny.
Raising her head, she said, “It’s not his fault.” Like she knew the way Kev had been judging him, like maybe she thought Kev had been judging her too. “He lost a lot, his horse, people he loved, family, one right after the other. It was like watching dominoes fall.” Looking at Scott again, she said, “This was how he coped. But he just couldn’t ever pull himself out of it.” She tugged his covers up a little higher. “And I couldn’t stay in it with him anymore.”
Kev understood how they’d ended up this way. More than he ever wanted to. He also knew there wasn’t anything he could say to make it better, because that thing didn’t exist. But he could help. So he walked to the table, picked up the empty glass, and said, “I’ll go get him some fresh water.”
Jen’s eyes were dry but so dim, the vibrant sparkle he was so used to seeing in them muted when she said, “Thanks, Kev.”
Thirty minutes later, after they’d left Scott sleeping in the spare room and Madigan arrived to pick him up, Kev climbed into Lydia, shut the door, and said with unshakable conviction and a clear, solid, resolute voice, “I’m never using drugs again. Never.”
Turning slowly in his seat, Madigan stared at him. Then he wrapped his hand around Kev’s neck. Pulling him so close their foreheads touched, he said, “Everyone’s situation is different. But the day I said that sentence out loud was the day I stopped using for good too.” He gave Kev’s neck a firm squeeze, let him go, and then drove them home.
While the winding gravel road up to Bluebird churned under Lydia’s tires, Kev’s thoughts wandered, playing through his life since he’d returned from rehab. Until they latched on to something so tightly it felt like a revelation.
He’d been going about everything all wrong, jumping over steps, racing wildly toward some finish line that seemed to get farther away the faster he ran toward it. So terrified he’d never get there that he couldn’t ever just be here . He needed to slow down. He needed to back up, retrace his steps, and start again at the beginning.
He knew Madigan and Clay and Tex were right. He knew he was supposed to focus on himself and his journey toward recovery right now. But what they didn’t understand was that Davis was part of that journey. He couldn’t separate the two. If he was on a path, she was the trees on either side of him, the clear blue sky above his head, the sunlight warming his face and showing him where to go. If he took a step, he took it toward her. Could he continue down his path without those things? He could. And he would. But not without a fight.
She’d probably never love him again—he could see that much. But she’d thought this entire time that he hadn’t loved her. She’d thought he wanted someone else. He’d wronged her in so many ways, broken her heart, hurt her, betrayed her trust. But never like that. He’d never wanted anyone else. He’d never wanted anyone but her. And as important as it was for her to know that, he thought it might be even more important for him to tell her, show her, holding nothing back, hiding no single part of himself. Even if it hurt. Even if his old scars were already starting to redden and burn. If she was willing to hear him out, he’d open every single one of those scars back up for her without hesitation.
He’d always known she was worth fighting for. But right then, he decided that he was worth fighting for too. He knew what he had to do. He knew the next step he needed to take. He just hoped it wasn’t too late.