Page 95 of Quiver

“Wait.” Fletcher called steps before she reached the barn, but Kylie was already walking away.

Again.

Fletcher unstrung the last student bow and hung it neatly on a peg in the tack room. Then she paused to collect herself before heading back into the arena.

Class had gone exceedingly well. Every participant had hit a target from horseback with either Ava, Fletcher, or Kylie leading them at a walk, and about half of the students with prior riding experience were able to direct themselves independently through the sequence with mixed shooting results. Jenny had even managed to hit two of the three targets at a faster pace. And Gabrielle had stayed calmly alert through it all without any indication of spooking.

Fletcher should’ve been thrilled, but she hadn’t been able to shake the funk that’d settled over her earlier when Kylie had asked why the horse got more understanding, care, and forgiveness than she had.

She shook her head again, wishing she could dislodge the echo of that question from her memory, or at least force it into some sort of compartment she could close off. Instead, she’d spent the last few hours experiencing the gamut of emotions from shock to confusion to annoyance to contemplation. It seemed wildly reductive to compare the biggest heartbreak and betrayal of her life to the actions of a skittish horse, but each time she replayed the conversation, she understood more about why Kylie had drawn the connection, which only led her back to annoyance.

Kylie had been young and scared and overwhelmed when she made the choices that had shattered Fletcher. And while she hadn’t let herself see it at the time, she’d learned enough in the last few weeks to suspect she hadn’t ever intended to hurt her, at least not at first. Still, Kylie wasn’t an animal, subject to only her basest instincts. She was a woman with free will and the ability to make or review choices. She’d had ample opportunity to right the wrong if she’d wanted to. She could have, what? Come back? That’s what Fletcher had wanted initially. Only, now she knew Kylie had tried to come back at least once when she was with Ava, then again, now, to ask for help.

She gritted her teeth against the impulse to make excuses for her, or worse, offer absolution. She didn’t want that, and even if she did, what could it possibly change? The thoughts were too big and fraught and chaotic to sort out twelve years of stubborn pain in the space of a single afternoon.

Fletcher forced her confusion down and stepped out of the tack room only to collide with Kylie.

They both caught hold of each other instinctively, her hand landing on the curve of Kylie’s waist, fingers twitching to squeeze or caress before defenses took hold and she stepped back.

“Sorry,” Kylie said with a hint of a smile, equal parts exhaustion and amusement.

“No, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“Wow.” The corners of Kylie’s mouth curled even more. “Look at us making little mistakes and not exploding at each other.”

Fletcher took another step back as the topic she’d been avoiding came rumbling close to the surface again.

“I guess you were right. Learning and growing can help people work a little better together,” Kylie continued. “Oh, look, it happened again. I admitted you were right about something other than archery. Maybe we should call some of the neighbors and see if their pigs have started to fly.”

She didn’t laugh at the little quip. “Can we not do this right now?”

Kylie’s tired eyes lifted to the ceiling for a few seconds before her expression tightened. “Sure. Your place, your rules. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been working hard to honor those boundaries after our talk last week.”

She nodded. She’d noticed, but she hadn’t attributed it to Kylie’s respect for her so much as her own unwillingness to let her in again. Still, Kylie hadn’t put up much of a fight, which was out of character.

“But for clarity’s sake,” Kylie went on in the same even tone, “when you say ‘right now,’ you mean ‘never,’ right?”

And there it was.

Fletcher rolled her eyes. “I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Honestly, I sort of suspected you to return to the theatrics as soon as I was cleared for work again.”

“Theatrics?” Kylie’s eyes flashed with either hurt or anger, or both. “Now wait a second. You’ve spoken your piece several times lately, and I’ve listened. I’ve sat with your last outburst all week, and, honestly, I’ve carried all that and more for years without ever once accusing you of being overly dramatic. You’ve made your side of the story painfully clear. I hurt you. I walked away. I did damage. I’m the reason you have trust issues and intimacy issues and emotional constipation.”

“Um, not sure I said any of that.”

“I’m summarizing.” Kylie waved her off as she picked up steam. “The point is, I’ve accepted my share of the blame many times over. Hell, I practically said as much when I emotionally identified with your freaking horse this morning. Do you need to hear it all again?”

Fletcher glanced away, not sure if she wanted to, but Kylie caught her shoulders and turned her back.

“I freely and openly admit I didn’t handle things as well as either of us would’ve liked. We were twenty-two years old, and an internationally famous agent appeared out of thin air to offer me a dream role in a major movie. I didn’t know how to handle any of that.”

“But you wanted those dreams more than me.”

“No. You don’t get to rewrite the story, and it doesn’t even make sense, because we both know I’m greedy enough to want it all. I wanted all of our dreams, yours and mine, with you. And what’s more, I made that abundantly clear at the time.”

She clenched her jaw against the truth of the statement. “Maybe in theory, but when push came to shove, you couldn’t conceive of any option that didn’t involve me setting aside my life, my work, my dreams to follow yours.”

“In five days? I had five days to rearrange my whole world.”