Iwatch the mist rise over the polo fields as the early morning sun heats the dew. It’s going to be a scorcher today. Closing my eyes, I settle into the stillness of listening to the birds chirping their morning chorus, accompanied by the soft flapping of flags in the breeze, while, in the distance, the church bells chime 5 a.m.
Given how frantic this week has been, I’m surprisingly calm, but with Diego and Messiah both out, I’ve finally resigned myself to the fact that I can’t control any of this anymore.
Winning today will come down to how well we play. That’s all I can do. I’m only clinging to the belief that, deep down, we have the strength, skill, and ability to beatLos Tigres Luchadores.
It’s been a while since I came out to the fields this early.
After my accident, I used to come here all the time. This is where I feel closest to my dad. If I concentrate hard enough, I can take myself back to the years when I was little, where I watched him play, riding across the pitch again, scoring goal after goal for the Flyers.
The trophy cabinet in the office is proof of how hard he worked. I’ve won tournaments too, but I’m nowhere near as successful as he was. Not yet. But a win today, having theFoxleigh Flyers etched onto the trophy for the second time, will be a start.
I’m so deep in thought that I don’t hear the footsteps approaching until movement catches the corner of my eye and I look up to find Clementine standing there.
I don’t know why she’s up this early, and I definitely don’t want to think about it.
Los Tigresare staying just outside Valentine Nook in some country hotel a few miles away. The idea of her stopping by here after spending the night with Torres. ..nope. ..not thinking about it. Before I can stop it, a heavy shudder rustles down my spine.
Gross.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, unable and unwilling to keep the iciness from my tone. She couldn’t have picked a worse time. “If you came to fuck with me, you can leave.”
She sighs heavily. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I couldn’t sleep. I came to see Feather.”
“She’s sleeping,” I snap. “And if it’s all the same to you, I’d like some time alone.”
I turn back toward the fields and the new ponies grazing peacefully. A couple of our mares gave birth earlier this year, and with any luck, they’ll become the next generation of champions.
Instead of leaving, Clementine walks toward me. I don’t know if she’s deliberately trying to piss me off, but whatever it is, it’s working.
“Miles—”
“Clem, I mean it. I’m not in the mood. This isn’t the time.”
“You’re so fucking stubborn, Miles. Not everything is about you.”
“It is today, Clementine.”
“Okay, fine.” She lifts her hands defensively but doesn’t make any effort to walk away. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh yeah?” I glare at her. “I understand enough to know I’d never screw over one of my siblings for a fucking guy.”
“It’s not like that, Miles.”
Silence stretches like an elastic band. I have no intention of asking her what it is like, which is exactly what she wants, because I refuse to have a conversation about her and Torres before I go out there and annihilate him.
Nothing will derail my plans for him on that pitch.
But, knowing my sister as I do, I’m going to find out anyway. I’m an unwilling participant in this conversation. I mean. ..I haven’t even had a fucking coffee.
“You wouldn’t understand because you’ve never been in love. You don’t know what it’s like.”
This argument again, and my family callsmethe melodramatic one. I can’t tell if she’s deliberately being a dick and trying to provoke me, or if she’s feeling sorry for me.
Either way, the audacity.
