Page 6 of Quiver

“You’ve still got it,” a voice said, low, close, haunting.

Lowering the bow, she steeled herself, but refused to turn around before saying, “Hello, Kylie. It’s been a while.”

A little hum of assent raked across her senses, and she didn’t have to see the woman to tell she wore a wry sort of smile. The fact that Fletcher still knew such a thing tinged the edges of her brain with heat.

“Fletch.”

Her jaw twitched at the way a single word, said in that deep, wistful register threatened to liquify her resolve. She turned slowly, bracing herself against the rush of emotions she always suffered at the sight of her.

Kylie stood a few yards away in worn jeans and a white shirt under a knee-length, black wool coat, waves of auburn hair spilling over her shoulders. There was nothing overtly elegant about the attire, but she still looked out of place, too bright, too polished, too proud and pretty for the dull earth and dim light of her surroundings. What had ever made either of them believe she could belong here?

Fletcher slung her bow over her shoulder and pulled an arrow from her hip quiver just to have something to do with her hands while Kylie drank her in with her eyes. “In town for the holidays?”

“Something like that. I’m not totally sure yet.”

She nodded as if that made sense.

As if any of this made any sense.

“You look good.”

Fletcher shook her head against the urge to repeat the compliment. Kylie did look ridiculously good, but she knew it, and she certainly didn’t need Fletcher to say such a thing. The whole world had fallen for her pale skin, her green eyes, the press of her lips in an impish expression that had been genuine, at least in the beginning. No one needed to point out the obvious here.

Fletcher didn’t play silly games. She didn’t make small talk either, and the thought of Kylie of all people waltzing in here at this point and trying to lead her into such an absurdity caused a flash of anger. “Can I help you with something?”

“I don’t know.” Kylie’s smile spread, and she shook her head until one wavy lock of hair spilled over her shoulder. “Actually, I do. You can help me. You’re the only one who really can. I’m just not sure you will.”

Fletcher laughed a little even though she didn’t find it humorous.

“Don’t think for a minute the irony is lost on me,” Kylie continued. “It seems as if the fates are kinky little bitches, because it turns out that holding onto the life I’ve sacrificed so much for actually depends on the life you’ve built here.”

“You sacrificed?” Fletcher snorted to keep in a sob. “Sure, let’s pretend. But you’ll have to forgive me, because you’ve had more practice with these sorts of performances.”

“Please, don’t make it harder. We both know I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t need to be.”

“Yeah, we know that much.” She spun the arrow in her hands until it pointed up, and resisted the urge to hurl it like a javelin. “What’s the big ask?”

“I need a refresher on mounted archery. Like a big one.”

Fletcher stared at her, waiting for more, but Kylie only shifted from one foot to the other and shrugged.

“Seriously? You came all the way here and that’s the best you can do? How many hours did you have on planes and in cars, and you didn’t even prepare a monologue? So unlike you.”

“I’m not playing a part today.”

“But you do want one, right? A big part you can use me to get a leg up on?”

She opened her mouth as if she might argue, then closed it and nodded. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like this.”

Fletcher rolled her eyes. “Ah, yes. The world just throws these things your way. Can’t be helped. No agency involved at all. Glad to know some things never change.”

“Okay.” Kylie threw up her hands. “You’re right. People don’t change. Thanks for the reminder. I actually did have a lot of agency here, up to a point … I thought, ugh, you know what? It doesn’t matter. I’m going to go.”

She clenched her jaw to keep from disagreeing.

Kylie looked from her to the dog to the rafters of the arena, her eyes lingering a second on the metal cymbal hanging overhead. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”

“Sorry you wasted a trip out.”