“What the hell is she doing here?” I nearly yelled. My blood boiled as I pointed to the woman making her way carefully down the steps. She wore stilettos, despite being six months pregnant.
Arthur blinked. “I’ve no idea, Miss Bennett.”
We watched my dad’s girlfriend get into a shiny black Lexus that he’d probably bought her, and in short order, begin to drive toward us. I wanted to scream as she came closer. And then she happened to glance at us, her eyes widening like a hungry lynx. Belatedly, I realized she was more interested in the Rolls than she was in who was in it. A cool smile spread across her lips, and I saw her hand drop from the steering wheel to the top of her belly. And then, she was gone.
“May I continue on?” Arthur asked me gently.
“Sure. Sorry, Arthur,” I muttered.
“No need to apologize, miss,” he said, offering me a kind and understanding smile.
We stopped in front of the guesthouse and I opened the door of the car before he could get out to help me. He was sweet and old, and I felt uncomfortable having him wait on me like that.
With a wave to Arthur, I headed inside to the kitchen, grabbed a bag of carrots and some sugar cubes, and hurried over to the stables. On the way, I stopped to pat Gus, the stable hand’s dog. He was a grizzled old coonhound who now preferred the shade of a tree to hunting. He offered me a dozy tail wag and I set a small dog treat at his feet, then moved on inside the stables, which smelled sweetly of hay and horse musk.
As I approached one of the stalls, I heard a nicker, and Apollo, a fifteen-hand, chestnut-colored gelding, stuck his considerable muzzle out of the stall.
“Hey, boy,” I said softly. He nickered again and kicked the door of the stall to let me know he was happy to see me.
I opened the bag of carrots and angled my shoulder underneath his muzzle to feed him, but he pushed at my pocket, more inclined toward the sugar. I dug it out for him, and he settled contentedly against me.
Stroking the white star on his forehead, I said, “Sophie texted me today.”
Apollo snorted, and I glanced sideways at him. Sometimes, he had great timing.
“I didn’t text her back,” I said. He rubbed the side of his head against my shoulder, and I fed him a carrot. “And I don’t think I’m going to.” Apollo nodded, as if he completely agreed with that decision.
That’s the thing about horses: they have an almost eerie ability to make you feel understood. I’d been pouring my heart out to Apollo ever since setting foot inside the stables, and I know it sounds weird, but he always made me feel heard and validated, and I knew that every time he saw me, he’d greet me with the same eager enthusiasm.
Horses are loyal to the core. They’ll never throw away your friendship for another human. Show them kindness and they’ll be yours. Forever.
Unlike Sophie, who’d promised that we’d always be best friends until she betrayed me in the worst possible way.
“She can stare at that phone until the end of the school year,” I told him. “No way am I answering her back!”
Apollo rubbed my shoulder again, and I figured that he understood how hard it would be on me to keep that promise. The truth was, I missed Sophie more than I could say, and I knew myself well enough to understand that I wanted to forgive her…I just didn’t know how.
With a sigh, I fed Apollo several more carrots before I looked at the time on my phone.
“Gotta go,” I told him. He nickered again and set his lips around my forearm, as if he didn’t want me to leave. I leaned in for a last hug and said, “Thanks, buddy. I needed that.”
After dropping some carrots into the buckets of Easy Ed, Lady Finger, and Roger Boy—Grandmother’s other horses—I dashed back to the house and up the stairs to my room. Taking a seat at my desk, I propped up the mirror that I used in the mornings to do my hair and makeup. For a minute, I peered at my reflection with a bit of alarm. I didn’t look so good. Dark circles underlined my eyes, and there was a pale weariness to my skin that made me look like someone on the verge of getting sick. My hair could have used some attention, too. How long had it been since I’d seen a stylist? Three months?
“Yikes,” I said, and my thoughts drifted to the encounter I’d had that morning with Cole.
A flush touched my cheeks when I took in my simple white shirt and skinny jeans. That morning I’d been focused on not calling a lot of attention to myself on the first day, so I’d muted my look considerably. But now I could see how that plain-Jane plan had backfired, because this had been Cole’s first impression of me. And then my mind recalled how I’d ducked into Grandmother’s pearly Rolls-Royce to get away from all the stares. I had no idea what Cole’s overall impression of me might be, but I was betting it wasn’t, “Hey, that new chick is awesome!”
I started to reach for my makeup, but stopped to take note of the time and grimaced. If I took a few extra minutes to work on my appearance, I risked being late for tea. But then, if I didn’t and went to her looking like this, Grandmother would probably be displeased anyway. Making up my mind, I took up a bottle of foundation and got quickly to work.