with thunder and lightning, there wasn’t a steed in the stable that was going to go out with me. As soon as I stepped out of the stable, Bri and her prize-winning horse came barreling toward me. I held the door against the wind until they were safely inside.
Without any words, I helped Brielle take care of her horse. It was my job, not hers, but she stayed by my side until Pear was dry, fed, and happy to be back in her stall. I left Brielle and went to make myself a bed for the night. I didn’t want the horses to get spooked. I hadn’t expected her to follow me, but she had and told me she was scared of the storm and planned to wait it out with me. That night, we talked. She told me what it was like to be here, and how much she hated it at times. Her friends were fake and pretentious, and the boys at school only wanted one thing. She asked what public school was like and whether she would fit in there. Her question made me laugh and when she looked at me, I thought she was going to strangle me. She didn’t. She kissed me. At first, it was a peck, but she wanted more. We made out that night, and every night we could after that. And when her dad was around, she openly flirted but for the most part our relationship was kept on the down low.
Brielle and I didn’t get serious until after she returned from college. For the four years she was gone, we both grew. She traveled during breaks or interned at ranches in Europe and when she finally came home after graduation, I took one look at her and knew I wanted to be with her. The problem—she’s considered horse racing royalty—and I’m nothing more than a trainer. And that message was driven as hard as a nail into a board when men started flocking to the house to court Brielle. They all had the right pedigree, as if they were dogs, to marry into the Armstrong family. Yet, each night, Brielle snuck into my room, asked me to meet her in the stables or invited me into her bedroom when her parents were out of town.
It was then that I came up with the plan to take my savings and invest in a horse, something Mr. Armstrong and I could see eye-to-eye on. I thought if he saw me as someone working to be his equal, I’d be good enough for his daughter. I was wrong.
My mom steps out of the shadows and rushes toward me. We hug tightly and I can feel her sobbing. “I’m sorry,” I tell her. I am, but I’m happy where I am and don’t plan to come back to Armstrong. Not that I’d be accepted back, but still.
“Are you happy?” she asks as she places her hands on my cheeks and looks into my eyes.
“I am. I love what I do and the people I work with.”
She nods and tears start to form in her eyes. “I wish you were here.”
“Me too, Mom.” Although, I’m not being entirely honest with her. Baker Kelly respects me.
Mom and I talk for a few minutes before she tells me she has to head back to the party. I’m not sure her absence would be noticed, but I respect her wishes or more so, my father’s request. There isn’t a doubt in my mind he told her she had ten minutes at most, before she had to return. That was how much of a dick he could be. Growing up, I don’t remember him being that way.
As much as I’d love to stay and visit the horses I’ve helped raise, I can’t. It’s not safe for me, for Lucky Seven Ranch, or Maximus. Butch Armstrong is a ruthless businessman who would do whatever he could to make sure Maximus couldn’t race in the Derby.
I step out of the stable and head back toward the house, only it’s not where I want to be. The valets are out front, waiting for the party to wind down and stand as I approach. “If you tell me where my truck is, I can go get it,” I tell them. The faster I can get away, the better.
The four of them look at each other, likely wondering if they’ll lose their job for not fetching my vehicle.
I hold up my hands. “Don’t worry,