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“What do you think would’ve happened?”
“You both looked pretty close,” he points out. Then he looks to his father. “She was up at the lake with Holcomb.”
“I told you to stay away from the local boys,” Jake tells me.
I shake my head, my backpack clutched in my fist. “I went for a hike,” I explain in a hard voice. “I didn’t invite him. He showed up. Are we done?” And then I glare at Noah. “I mean, Kaleb and the rifle? Really?”
I spin around, walking for the house again.
“You left the rifle on the beach!” Noah growls at me. “You left yourself unprotected.”
“What do you think he was going to do?” I ask, spinning around. “Attack me?”
Noah’s jaw flexes, and I can’t help myself.
“He might not have had to,” I tell him, slipping my backpack over my shoulder. “I was kind of liking him.”
He advances like he’s going to come after me, but Jake shoots out his hands and stops him, holding him back. I almost smile.
My uncle turns, his patience gone. “Go get your shower,” he orders me.
I turn and head up the stairs, hearing Noah’s
angry bark behind me. “You’re a Van der Berg here,” he shouts. “If you give that asshole a piece of ass, I swear to God I’ll make sure you don’t sit for a week.”
Noah.
Calm, pleasant, happy Noah.
What a surprise. And an asshole.
The horse shuffles on her feet as I brush her rust-colored coat. It’s meditative, like cooking. The long, smooth strokes. My earbuds are in, but no music plays, because I forgot to turn on my playlist when I came into the barn an hour ago.
I brush with one hand and follow it with a stroke of the other, giving the girl lots of attention. I like animals.
And Colorado. It was actually nice today. Getting out there into the woods.
It wasn’t even so bad when the Holcomb guy showed up. Of course, he was an ass. I wasn’t delusional. He’d screw me and brag and never speak to me again unless he wanted more, but…
I don’t know.
He joked with me, and I joked back. There was no illusion about what he wanted. I didn’t have to play games or pretend.
And part of me wanted it to be that easy. To not have to bond in order to connect.
Yeah, I was tempted.
I can’t talk right or say the right things, but maybe I can be soft and sweet and happy in bed. Maybe I could be loving there.
My eyes sting with tears, but I blink them away as I brush Shawnee’s mane.
They hate me, I hate me, and I hate them.
No, I stop and think, I don’t hate them. I just know I’ll fail. I can’t connect.
Leaving the stall, I toss the brush on the table with the other grooming tools, and walk back through the shop, toward the house. I kick off my muddy rain boots but keep my black hoodie on as I open the door to the kitchen and walk in. The afternoon is cooling off, and I feel rain in the air.
I hear a hiss as I enter. “That fuckin’ prick…”
