Page 26 of Tough Love

“Riding, after your accident. Why didn’t you get straight back to it?”

“I ah?—”

Fuck.

Pink flushes her cheeks, and she swallows. Even Reed notices it from across the table, by the pity on his face aimed at her.

“Well?” Harry prompts.

Her shoulders rise, rapid and shallow, and her hands have dropped to her lap, clutching the skirt of her dress. Ma shoots a warning look at Pa, but it’s too late. Addy chokes on a tumble of words before pushing up and out of the chair. “Excuse me.”

She rushes across the lawn like she’s being hunted.

Sweet Jesus.

“Good one, Harry,” Reed drawls. Ma pushes up from her chair, I assume to go after Addy, but I hold up a hand and she sinks back onto her chair.

Dropping my cutlery, I stand. “Jesus, Pa.”

I stalk to the house.

Chapter Eight

ADDY

Iam well aware it’s my birthday, and I don’t want to cry. But here I am, trying to stifle the tears that burn behind my eyes as I wander around the homestead, trying to locate a bathroom, a box of Kleenex. Anything. What’s worse, I let Harry get to me. I have been so good at deflecting that question and making excuses about why I never rode again. I walk down the hall from the kitchen, hunting for a bathroom.

I find an open bedroom door. Inside is a dresser with a box of tissues. I go in and pluck a few tissues from the box. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I dab my eyes, sniffing back a fresh torrent of salt water. When I catch my breath, I take in the space. It’s a man’s room. One of the guys’, I suspect. A queen bed and a flat screen TV mounted on the opposite wall.

Horse trophies and photos of various mounts sit on the top of the drawers and adorn the walls. It’s like a shrine to horses.

Hudson.

All of a sudden, I feel something entirely different. Curiosity. I stand and walk to the dresser. A photo sits in the center. I pick it up. A younger version of old Silver in the paddock closest to the house. A boy, maybe around ten, sits on her back, the widest smile plastered over his cute face.

“You alright, Howard?”

I startle and drop the picture. It falls forward and I catch it before the glass hits the wood. Setting it straight again, I back away from the furniture like it’s on fire.

“I’ll live.”

Accurate.

I lived. Jewls did not.

I scrunch the tissue up in my hand and head for the door where he stands, arms crossed over his chest. “Sorry, I was looking for a bathroom or tissues. Found these first. I’ll get out of your space.”

But he blocks the doorway with a wide stance. “Don’t let the old man get to you.”

I huff a strangled laugh. Easy for him to say.

“I’m serious. He will rail on you until you stand up to him.”

His face is soft, his mouth pulled up but in a way that completes his concern. I meet his gaze. “Why don’t you?”

He drops his arms to his side. “It’s complicated.”

“Uh-huh. Reed doesn’t seem to think so.”

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