Page 8 of Quiver

She stood and stared for a second, memories rushing back as she took in several handmade ornaments placed in positions of prominence. She’d braced herself for what happened earlier, but she hadn’t prepared for an emotional onslaught here.

“You okay, sweetie?” Her mom wrapped an arm around her waist.

“Just admiring the tree.” She let her head fall to the side until it rested on her mom’s shoulder. “It’s really pretty this year.”

“Dad picked it out, but I decorated.”

“You two make a good team.”

“We’ve had plenty of years to figure out a system. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What’s going on?” her mom pressed.

“Hey,”—her dad peeked his head through the doorway to his study—“I wanna hear the gossip, too.”

“There’s no gossip.”

They both stared at her the same way they had when she was a kid and answered the question ‘how was school’ with ‘fine.’ She knew from experience they had what it took to wait her out.

“I initially hoped I’d have work to do in the city over the holidays, but it turns out I don’t.”

Neither of them said anything at the surface-level explanation until the silence stretched to a straining point. “I guess I needed a short walk down memory lane to remind me of a few things I’d let myself forget.”

Her mom nodded as if she found the answer sufficient.

“I, for one, am glad,” her Dad said, then added, “I hope it’s not too short a trip, ’cause we’ve missed you.”

She offered the most convincing smile she could summon and said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

She wasn’t in a place to make any more commitments, not after putting herself out on a pretty big limb and having Fletcher yank her last hope of a safety net away. Still, she didn’t have the heart to tell them that, as far as she was concerned, this trip was already over.

Fletcher was spreading some fresh hay in a newly cleaned stall when the sound of an approaching car caused her to stiffen. Plenty of people had stopped by, what with neighbors dropping off holiday treats, the regulars making use of the break from school or work to visit their horses, or customers coming to pick up a bow or a bridle to place under the tree. Part of her remained grateful for the diversions, or at least she would have if not for the sickening seconds between hearing each visitor approach and the moment they revealed themselves.

She tried to remember she’d gone years between encounters like the one that shook her comfortable routine yesterday, and the likelihood of Kylie returning for more so soon was slim to none. She’d held her ground better than she might’ve feared if she’d had time to dwell on such a thing, but a fitful night’s sleep and the awareness Kylie was probably still in town left her tense.

She forced nonchalance, at least on the surface, until she picked out the sound of two car doors closing followed by a high whistle that swung low and back up again.

Bear bolted from the back of the barn, bounding as far as his long legs would carry him, no doubt on his way to pounce on his other mother, and Fletcher’s relief lasted long enough to prevent her from barking the standard “no jumping” command she needed only when Ava arrived.

Taking the time to rest the handle of her pitchfork outside the stall, she ambled into the hall to see Bex laughing while Bear, his paws on Ava’s shoulders, tried to lick her face.

“Not the mouth, buddy,” Ava warned without the slightest ounce of authority.

“You have only yourself to blame.” Fletcher leaned her shoulder against a wooden support beam as some residual tension left her body. Ava was comfortable, Ava was safe, and Fletcher didn’t need to examine why her reaction to one ex-girlfriend differed so greatly from another in order to be pleased to see her.

“Merry Christmas,” Ava said when she noticed her.

“Christmas is tomorrow.”

Ava laughed. “Bah humbug to you, too.”

“Christmas is a whole season,” Bex corrected, a bit more gently.

“Christmas is a state of mind,” Ava piled on.

“Christmas is a—”