Page 107 of His Addiction
Shit.
Shock gripped her throat, tight and sudden, making it hard to breathe. The surprise of seeing him when heshould’ve been in Vegas froze her in place, sending a shiver through her.
Without thinking, she urged Trixie into a brisk canter, guiding the mare toward the back of the paddock.
Her hands moved almost mechanically, fumbling with the back gate that led to the bridal paths, her body tense and hurried as she tried to make sense of the rush of emotions that swirled inside her.
“Shannon! What are you doing? The lesson isn’t over!” Harry called out, his words swallowed by the pounding in her ears.
Above her, crows circled like vultures, their harsh screeching mirroring the chaos churning inside her.
Don’t look at him. Don’t look back.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, each thump a painful reminder of the vulnerability she couldn’t afford to show.
She wasn’t ready to face him. Not yet. How could she look him in the eye and pretend to be strong?
Her mind raced, torn between the need to escape and the ache to be close to him again.
Fighting against the pull of her own emotions, Shannon jerked her head around, finding Jamie marching toward the paddock with fierce determination.
I don’t need him. I don’t need anyone. I just want to be alone.
But the thought rang hollow, a lie she couldn’t escape.
With a squeeze of her legs, Trixie responded, her excitement palpable. The mare kicked out with aplayful buck, her hind legs propelling her into a full gallop.
Icy rain lashed against Shannon’s face, soaking her through as Trixie carried her beneath the rain clouds, the winter storm breaking.
Tumbling thoughts crashed through her mind, but none of it mattered anymore.
The wind whipped at her cheeks, stinging her eyes, but the adrenaline surged, burning with reckless impulse.
Trixie’s pounding hooves thudded against the earth, the rhythm vibrating through her core, filling her chest with raw power.
She was free. Safe. Out of reach.
This was where she was meant to be—galloping toward freedom, hunting for her resurrection. The green fields stretched out for miles, framed by skeletal trees that creaked and twisted in the storm.
Shannon finally found a moment of solace in the mouth of a forest, a place to hide from the battering wind.
She inhaled the damp, pin scented air, letting it fill her lungs with a mixture of recklessness and cowardice. Running away was irrelevant now.
Jamie would get the hint and leave, and she’d fade into the background.
As she took shelter in the forest, time slipped away from her, unnoticed. Eventually, she turned back, knowing it was time to get Trixie home.
The wind picked up to a violent gale, the rain now soaking through to her underwear. Slowing Trixie to atrot as she re-entered the paddock, Shannon scanned the yard for his Mustang.
He’d gone.
The clip-clop of hooves in the yard alerted Bucky to their return. He rushed out of the tack room, shielding his eyes from the pelting rain as it lashed down.
“What the hell are you playing at, Shannon? It’s been over an hour,” he gritted out.
“I needed to clear my head,” she said, dismounting.
“Clear your head or catch pneumonia?” Bucky snapped back. “I was going to hunt you down myself.”
