Page 61 of Unbroken

She was too quiet.

It’d been two days since our conversation in the barn and the Fiona I knew and cared about was … missing. It wasn’t obvious to the group on our trail ride since Fiona had, as usual, been a cheerful host as everyone got ready to depart, but once we were on the trail, she refrained from making her usual dad jokes that I’d grown to appreciate. I was shocked by how much I missed her silly interruptions and saddened when I considered what her silence meant.

She was hurting. I’d seen it in her face when I’d told her I was still leaving, and the fact that she could barely look at me now made it even plainer. Hurting Fiona was the last thing I wanted to do, but I’d gone and done it, and it felt like there was nothing I could do to make it better. Shit, this was worse than her standing me up for the prom.

I thought back to when we’d first discovered we’d be working together, how upset we’d both been. The first days of our partnership had been rocky. The old rivalry didn’t want to die without a fight, but in time, we’d found our way to a remarkably smooth and easy partnership.

And then so much more. I thought about the first time we’d come together on my desk in the tack room. And again and again at my place, which already felt like a lifetime ago.

The group rode past the little hilltop cabin where I’d kissed Fiona for the first time the day we’d gotten caught in the rain. I turned to look over my shoulder at her, hoping to share a moment over the sweet memory, but she was looking down at her stirrup, fussing with an invisible distraction to avoid looking at the spot that held an important place in our shared history.

Yeah, I fucked up and she definitely was hurting. And the way Fiona had always gotten past pain was to power through it like it wasn’t there. Except, she didn’t appear to be doing that now, which worried me.

The group we were leading was a mixed bag of people who didn’t all know each other, so there wasn’t much chatter among them as we rode. The silence gave me too much time to reflect on what I was doing. To wonder if moving to Half Moon was the right decision. The way Fiona’s face had looked when I told her I was leaving … I saw a flash of raw pain before she’d straightened her back and composed herself again. It was just like her to mask the way she truly felt. I used to think it was because she was such a good actress, but now I realized that it was her way of protecting herself. This time, she was protecting herself from me, and that hurt more than I’d expected. I deserved to feel that pain, but Fiona didn’t.

By the time we arrived back at the ranch, I felt as exhausted as if I’d been in the saddle for days. There was a heaviness in my bones that I couldn’t shake and for a minute, I wondered if I was coming down with something. Fiona kept her distance as we completed our usual end of day chores, working at high speed, like she was eager to get away from me.

She was moving so fast that she tripped carrying a heavy water bucket, spilling half of it before managing to right herself. Fiona cursed loudly and stomped her foot.

“Hey, hey, let me help,” I said as I jogged over to her.

“I’m fine,” she said through gritted teeth, refusing to look at me.

“Fiona, come on …”

“What? I tripped, it’s no big deal. I’ve got it.” She adjusted her grip on the bucket and hoisted it up again.

I sighed. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

Fiona paused, still not looking at me.

“Can we talk for a minute?”

She didn’t answer, but she put down the bucket, so I started talking.

I moved around to face her, so I could watch her expression. “I want you to know how sorry I am that I hurt you. That was never my intention. I’ve done my best to be honest with you about everything from the very beginning, so you have to understand why this move is so important to both me and Patrick. It’s a?—”

“—fresh start, yeah, you’ve mentioned that a bunch of times. Honestly, I don’t think we need to have this conversation again, Eli. There’s nothing new to say. And to be perfectly honest, Idon’tunderstand why getting away is so damn important to you when you have a pretty good life here, surrounded by people who care about you. And you’ve got a great job, too. But you’ve made up your mind.”

I started to answer her, but she hoisted the bucket up and stomped away, leaving me alone in a puddle of mud.

Well, shit, that all went just terrible. I’d wanted to be the one to tell Fiona that I got the job at the Easy Eights. But even though I’d hadample opportunity, I’d kept my mouth shut for too long. Because I was selfish and worried that she would…what? Be happy for me? I heard a crash in the direction where she’d gone followed by her swearing and I froze. My inclination was to run check on her and make sure she was okay, but I was fairly sure that she wouldn’t appreciate that. I could hear her talking to Red and Gatsby—their stalls were side by side—so I stayed put.

Realistically, what could I say that would make anything better for her? I’d unexpectedly hurt her and had no idea how to fix it or if I even could.

Way to go, Carter. Take one of the only good things about living in this damn town and fuck it all up.

FORTY-ONE

ELI

It was the last place I wanted to be, but I was going through the arduous pre-packing phase and had discovered a bunch of tools that belonged to my father. Even though he never lifted so much as a ruler, he had a tool bench complete with every device a contractor could need, and I had found myself borrowing this and that over the years. The time had come to return it all. I stood on the front porch loaded down with a heavy box, dreading the fake pleasantries and subtle judgment to come. I was happy I’d dropped Patrick off at my mother’s. My son still wanted nothing to do with his grandfather and I did not blame him. For the most part, Patrick’s stomachaches had gotten significantly better, but I was all too aware that they could flare up again. They always tell you that kids are resilient and bounce back faster than adults, but that didn’t mean I could ignore his feelings or assume everything was automatically all better now.

The door opened right as I was contemplating leaving the mini chainsaw and bolt cutters on my father’s front porch.

“Eli, hello! Finally returning all of your ill-gotten goods? As I alwayssay, neither a borrower nor a lender be. But I guess you don’t follow that rule.”

“Hey, Dad.” I sighed. “I figured if anything broke, you’d call someone to fix it for you, so I didn’t think you’d miss this stuff.” And it wasn’t as if he called asking me to return anything, but it didn’t seem worth it to point that out.

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