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Gramps is in the middle of loading the dishwasher, but I’m sure he’ll be retiring to the living room and a baseball game within minutes. I’d be surprised if he’s not asleep in the next hour.
“Okay, Lennie,” Gramps replies. “Have fun.” There’s a teasing lilt to his words, and I’m tempted to roll my eyes in response before heading out the front door.
The wind has died down. It’s not as cold outside as I braced myself for, especially with wet hair. I hurry down the dirt driveway, skirting around potholes that make the truck’s suspension groan every time it leaves the property. I make it to the end of the driveway before any headlights come into sight, breathing a sigh of relief when I reach our faded green mailbox before the ten minutes have passed.
I’m not ashamed of the ramshackle property, although most people probably would be. But Caleb setting so much as a foot on Matthews Farm feels too intimate. Too personal.
Caleb was right earlier. Ihavebeen avoiding him. Iamfreaked out about the moment that transpired between us at his grandfather’s funeral.
Headlights appear.
Nerves knot in my stomach as the window of the shiny black truck rolls down. “Were you planning to walk, Matthews?” Caleb asks.
“Just trying to speed things along,” I reply, opening the door and climbing into the passenger seat. His car smells brand-new, and the soft leather seat feels like sinking into a cloud. I expect there to be junk food wrappers and baseball equipment strewn about, but the interior is immaculate.
“You’d rather walk down your driveway in the dark than spend an extra two minutes with me?”
“You said it, not me,” I say as I snap my seatbelt. “And…you’re the one going out of your way. I figured it was the least I could do.”
I say the words as a peace offering, but they’re true. I’m not used to other people taking care of me. Helping me.
He seems to hear the honesty in my voice, because his turns serious. “It’s not a problem.”
The quiet crooning of a country song about a broken heart serves as our soundtrack for the five-minute trip from my house to his.
The Winters’ estate is just as striking at night as it was during daylight when I was here on Sunday for the funeral, maybe even more so. The main house is entirely lit up, illuminating the sprawling yard and immaculate landscaping. It looks even larger empty, without crowds milling about.
Caleb parks right in front of the mansion, then climbs out and heads straight for the stairs that lead up to the porch. After about twenty feet, he glances back and realizes I’m not following him.
He says nothing, just arches an eyebrow.
I blow out a breath, well aware he’ll probably make fun of me for this. As far as I know, Caleb is about as interested in horses as I am in baseball. But I’ll never be back here. This will be my one chance to see Kentucky’s most famous stable.
“Can we—can we look inside?” I ask, nodding toward the huge barn.
Both eyebrows rise now. “You want to go in the barn?”
“Yeah. Just for a minute?”
He shrugs. “Okay. Sure.”
Caleb veers left, heading toward the looming structure that houses the horses that have won a majority of the Landry Cups over the last decade or so.
Soft lights glow all around the exterior of the barn, showing off the clean concrete that surrounds it. Caleb approaches a small side door tucked next to the massive sliding one and types a code into the keypad attached to white siding. A light flashes green and he pulls the door open, gesturing for me to walk inside first.
I mutter a “thanks” before stepping into the barn. Being cordial toward Caleb—Caleb being cordial toward me—still feels strange.
Automatic lights flicker on as I enter what turns out to be a kitchen filled with shiny appliances and granite countertops.
Not what I was expecting.
Almost everyone in Landry has obscene amounts of money. The Winters family has the most, so it shouldn’t surprise me that this is the nicest kitchen I’ve ever been inside.
But it’s in abarn, which is unexpected.
“Through here,” Caleb says, not bothering to stop and admire the spotless kitchen the way I am.
The next door leads into the center aisle of the stable. More lights flicker overhead.
