Page 52 of Quiver

Now it was Kylie’s turn to take a step back. “I don’t hate her.”

“I see it flash in your eyes every time you see her. You were already locked and loaded before I even walked in on Christmas, and I know she couldn’t have done something so egregious as to warrant your wrath in mere minutes.”

“Sometimes people rub you the wrong way.”

“Bullshit. I’ve seen plenty of people annoy you over the years, and you always dismiss them with a wave of your hand, but around Ava, you keep pulling knives out. Why?”

Kylie folded her arms across her chest even with Winston’s reins still in her hands and stared up at the ceiling. For a second, Fletcher thought they were slipping back behind their respective walls, but when Kylie allowed their eyes to meet once more, there was a slew of painful new emotions swirling in the green and gold of her irises. Fletcher fought the urge to look away, to backtrack, to apologize for even asking. She didn’t want to know, not now, not with the sense of gravity pushing all around, but it was too late.

“I saw you two together.”

“What do you mean together?”

“Together together.” Kylie’s voice cracked. “I saw her hands on you, on your arm. I saw her fingers in your curls and her lips against your ear, and I swear to God, Fletch, I’d never in my life wanted to choose violence as much as I did in that moment.”

Fletcher shook her head. “Ava and I haven’t been together in years. There’s no way you could’ve seen any of that in the last few weeks.”

“It wasn’t in the last few weeks.”

None of this added up. “When?”

Kylie shook her head again. “Too many questions. I’ve given all the answers you’ve earned.”

“I’m not sure you have,” Fletcher said softly, still searching her brain for a thread of logic she could grab hold of. “You apparently saw something at some point that you had no right to hold against anyone.”

“Tell me how long it lasted,” Kylie demanded more than asked.

“A little over three years.”

Kylie closed her eyes, dark lashes brushing against pale skin as she drew a slow, deep breath she held, then released. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for what? What’s going on, Kylie?”

She opened her eyes and squared her shoulders. “We’re getting ready for class.”

“So, this conversation is over?”

Kylie turned to her horse and, putting one foot into the stirrup, kicked herself gracefully into the saddle. “There’s nothing else good that can come from it.”

She scoffed. “Nothing else? What good came from it in the first place? I’m not even sure I got my answer.”

Kylie turned Winston around to stare down at Fletcher. Then, with her voice dead calm, she said, “I hated her because I could never find the strength to hate you.”

She kicked Winston so swiftly he jumped right past a walk and into a trot, as if even he couldn’t stand the tension any longer. Only, as they picked up both speed and distance, Fletcher suspected neither of those things would be enough to lessen the strain this time, and if she didn’t find a way to do so soon, something was bound to snap.

Chapter Eleven

“Great work, everybody. Let’s take a few steps back and try again,” Fletcher said to the group of students at her shooting station, and Kylie found herself straining to hear more, even as she led Winston past with a young girl atop his back.

It wasn’t as if her task was particularly engaging. All she had to do was guide the world’s most gentle horse back and forth across the arena while various students took turns getting used to riding without holding on. She wasn’t exactly putting anyone in danger by letting her mind wander, but a part of her hated the way her ear always tuned into Fletcher’s voice above all the others.

Fletcher moved with confidence and skill from one group to the next, meeting each person where they were and helping them to move forward, from the youngest novice to the more experienced archers. She managed to inject silliness with the kids without talking down to them or undercutting the seriousness of safety. She really was the perfect ambassador for the sport, and even though Kylie would’ve thought she’d need distance after their emotional bloodletting earlier, she couldn’t keep from reacting to her nearness now.

Maybe that was progress. Lord knows, she’d let her temper get the better of her, or she never would’ve said some of the things she’d let slip, but instead of shame or resentment, she felt only a subtle sense of release.

If she had it all to do again, she may’ve changed the tenor of the conversation, or perhaps made more eloquent word choices, but she wouldn’t have avoided the topic altogether, if for no other reason than she got an answer to a question she’d allowed to haunt her for years. Fletcher had shared her bed, her company, her life with someone else for three years, and as much as that laid to rest, it also caused a few other questions to arise. How long had they been together before Kylie had seen them? How long had they lasted beyond then? How many nights had Kylie lain awake torturing herself with the image of another woman sleeping soundly in Fletcher’s arms?

She shook her head to clear her overcrowded psyche.