Page 18 of Quiver

“Then let’s have a different one.”

Fletcher shook her head. “We’ve already said everything we have to.”

“Have we?” Kylie wasn’t sure. It was hard to be sure of anything right now, in this place, with Fletcher so close, her voice low, and their breath causing the windows to cloud in the cold of the night.

“I’ve said everything but good night.”

She sighed. “Okay. Say it then.”

“Good night, Kylie.”

She rolled out her neck and opened the truck door, fighting against the urge to push for more. She wasn’t one to surrender easily, but she also understood Fletcher better than anyone, so she climbed out and turned around before saying, “Good night, Fletch.”

Then she closed the door and headed for her parents’ home.

The truck behind her didn’t move again until she’d stepped inside.

Fletcher had come after her. Fletcher had backed up for her. Fletcher had waited until she got home safely before she’d left.

To anyone else they would’ve been basic human courtesies, but seeing as how they hadn’t afforded each other even those for more than a decade, she wouldn’t discount them. She’d hung her hopes on less lately, which is why she’d been willing to accept a “good night,” simply because it hadn’t been “goodbye.”

Chapter Four

“I know it’s the day after Christmas, but I thought you might want to start looking ahead to the new year,” Fletcher said into her phone as she stared at the spreadsheet on her laptop screen.

“Or we could actually wait until the new year,” her weary co-chair of the Northeast Horse Archery Association suggested. She could hear a TV and perhaps a couple of his kids in the background of his house in Western New York. “Or maybe, you know, even longer because we have a solid three months before the snow melts.”

“I don’t want to miss any opportunities by putting it off too long.”

“Pretty sure nothing will get lost in the shuffle. You’re the only person in the whole Northeast even thinking about horse archery in the dead of winter. It’s called the offseason. Let’s enjoy the holidays.”

Holidays, plural. She wasn’t sure she could take any more of them after yesterday, and the idea of an off-season felt even worse. She wanted to get back to work and the normalcy that went with it. She needed something to focus on to distract her from the visceral reactions she kept having to memories she hadn’t wanted to make.

“Are you at least going to be able to come out for the showcase in February?”

“We’ll see,” he said noncommittally. “The roads between here and the Adirondacks aren’t great this time of year, and I’m not sure our club will want to risk it. Besides, it’s not like you need the help.”

She didn’t, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want it. She’d been holding events on her own for years, and she’d assumed she would’ve built more of a die-hard cadre of instructors by now. There was always plenty of buy-in during the summer travel season, but she wanted more, always more than she got.

For some reason, the thought sparked images of Kylie, and she quickly did the mental gymnastics necessary to make herself believe she’d made the connection only because of how badly Kylie must want the movie role if she’d been willing to ask for her help.

“Don’t be mad, Fletcher,” John said. “We appreciate what you’re trying to do, spreading the word and growing the sport. It’s impressive. You’re the best of us all, and seriously, no one has ever done more to raise the visibility of the discipline. Hell, you’re one of the only true professionals I know. It’s a hobby for most of us.”

The phrase pierced her skin, and she clenched both her fists against the urge to lash out.

“Don’t you have any other hobbies or interests, or, I don’t know, people to catch up with?” he pressed gently.

She did board and train horses for people around town, and sometimes Ava came over, but none of those things fit the bill of what John was asking about, and they certainly didn’t compare to her passion for horse archery.

“You still there?” he asked.

“Yeah, sorry, mulling things over.”

“Whatever it is, you always make stuff work. Hell, you’re working in the middle of winter, in Vermont. You want nothing less than global domination.”

“Not domination, but exposure, a bigger reach, more …” Her voice drifted off as she heard a vehicle crunching a fresh layer of snow on her driveway. She glanced around for Bear before remembering she’d left him with Ava last night.

John continued, clearly not realizing she’d been distracted. “You’ve got a full competition slate, and you’re still running courses and retreats, not to mention the work you do with other people’s horses—”