Page 23 of Quiver

“Agreed.” She nodded and tried not to let the undertone sink in. Fletcher would teach her what she needed to know. She got what mattered most. If she also happened to understand she was getting her way only because Fletcher wanted her to leave and never come back, well, she had ample experience living with that sentiment.

Chapter Five

Fletcher leaned a couple of smooth recurve bows against a sawhorse in the riding arena, then wandered back to the barn intending to grab an extra quiver. She owned plenty of supplies from the various workshops and day camps she ran all summer, and despite the chill in the air, and maybe in her bones, she intended to run this morning’s lesson in much the same way she usually did. She wasn’t delusional enough to think she’d always be able to treat Kylie like any other student or hobbyist, but the more she stuck to the familiar aspects of her job, the less time she’d have to focus on the familiar aspects of the woman with her.

Despite her initial resolve to send Kylie packing, once she’d pushed her way into the barn, Fletcher had been powerless to keep their old patterns from reasserting themselves. Helplessness was something she’d spent years fighting against. She might not have had the wherewithal to stop this thing before it started, but she’d spent all last night and much of the morning trying to remind herself Kylie needed her, not the other way around. What’s more, they were on Fletcher’s home turf, literally training in her arena.

She was still giving herself the same version of that pep talk when she heard a car approaching. She straightened her shoulders and set her intentions much the same way she did before a competition, then strode out to meet Kylie. Only, as she stepped into the gray of a wintery day, Bear bounded up to greet her.

It took a second, a flurry of black fur, and a few barks to realize the new arrival wasn’t Kylie, but rather Ava returning their dog.

“Good morning,” Ava said, her greeting more subdued than Bear’s, but her smile no less joyful. “And Merry post-Christmas.”

“That’s not a thing.”

Ava laughed. “Christmas is more than one day.”

“It’s not.”

“It should be if you’re doing it right.”

She didn’t argue, partially because she wasn’t sure she was doing much right these days, and partly because there was no point in fighting about Christmas with Ava. “Thanks for bringing the boy back.”

“Thanks for letting me keep him. We played in the snow yesterday and would’ve done so again this morning, but Bex and I have a flight out in a few hours. She’s at home packing now.”

“Back to the city?”

“Yes, New Year’s Eve in New York is kind of a thing.”

“To each their own. I don’t begrudge anyone their tastes, even if I find them … overwhelming?”

Ava shook her head. “You’re one to talk.”

“Me?”

“Come on. Do you think no one noticed you left my house with Kye Manchester on Christmas?”

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the barn. “I didn’t leave with her.”

“You left right after her, and after a super awkward conversation.” Ava followed her.

“Yeah, that’s why I don’t like parties. All the conversations are awkward.”

“Don’t. Other people might buy this grumpy social-recluse bit, but I’ve been around you too often to believe it. You’re surly, but you’re not inept. I’ve seen you hold crowds captivated and make the most nervous or hesitant person feel at ease.”

“That’s different.” She busied herself dropping arrows into a couple of quivers.

“Because Kye is different, or at least she is to you.”

“Can we not have this conversation?”

Ava folded her arms across her chest. “Like we didn’t have it for three years?”

Fletcher’s blood ran a little colder as she stopped.

“I always knew,” Ava continued gently. “Every time you pulled away, every time the shadow passed over your features, every night you paced out here so I wouldn’t see.”

Her chest tightened, not at the fact that she’d done those things, but at the idea of Ava feeling anything akin to the loneliness consuming her in those moments. “I’m sorry I wasn’t better at—”