I pulled my sweaty tank over my head as I walked toward my trailer. As I got to my trailer door, I heard a whistle, and I saw Riley’s eyes glued to the back of my sports bra. He raised his eyes to me. I saw another emotion I wasn’t quite prepared for.I felt more things I certainly tried to avoid at all costs.
I had spent so long hating Riley, I wasn’t quite sure what to make of today. This was all stuff that he should have known. He rode horses, competed competitively in barrel racing, and had lived on the farm his entire life. What I showed him today should have been ingrained in his blood. Yet when he made the connection with Star today, something about him changed. His standoffish demeanor changed. He didn’t have anything to prove to this horse. For once, he didn’t have anything to prove to anyone.
Riley should have acted this way his whole life. I was sure he had struggles that I didn’t know about, but they weren’t an excuse to treat me—the horses like shit. Maybe that would all finally change.
Maybe what I saw today was a part of the real Riley he hid from the world.
Seven
“Father saw me yesterday with Star,” Riley said as he approached me in the morning to meet me for chores.
He looked absolutely delicious. I shook my head to wipe that thought clean from my mind. I shouldn’t have been thinking like that; I didn’t need to complicate this. I was his mentor, and he’s a playboy pain in the ass.
“Did he?” I asked.
He nodded.
“What did he think?” I asked, holding my shovel out in front of me.
I took a moment to stop. Whatever Riley had to say about this would be important.
“He thought it was nice but told me if I hadn’t been a brat growing up, I would have had that connection with the horses when I was small, like you.”
“It’s not a pissing contest,” I told him to try to make him feel better. Now that Riley was trying to change, I didn’t need William accidentally making him into an enemy again. He and I were finally acting civil, like adults.
“Apparently, it is,” he said.
“Look, your dad is very skeptical, Riley. Hell, I am skeptical. It takes more than two days of chores and five minutes of bonding with a horse to prove that you are ready for a farm like this and that you are a changed man, a good man.”
“Forget it,” he said.
“No, I won’t forget it, Riley. He is right. If you had cared back then, you wouldn’t be doing this now. Instead, you have spent the past five years since high school graduation just partying. You stick your dick into whoever you feel like and do whatever you please. If you want to change, you can. But understand, the impressions you have made don’t change as easily as you want them to. It takes more than what you have done to change, to impress anyone. But I see that you want to try, and that means something, so stick with it.”
“Is that what you think of me?” he asked,
I wasn’t going to sugar coat anything for him. I didn’t owe him that.
“That is what I, and most people, think of you. If you don’t like that, change it. Prove us—me wrong. Prove me wrong,” I repeated.
I knew Riley well enough to know that if I challenged him to prove me wrong, that would have the best results. He had always wanted to beat me. Better course times, better vehicles, better clothes, better everything had been Riley’s mantra.
“Prove me wrong,” I said again, my final challenge.
“I will prove everyone wrong.”
“I look forward to it,” I said.
He nodded, not quite believing me. That’s a shame, because I really did want to see him succeed. I wanted to see him be a better person, despite the hard feelings I still harbored.
But why would he believe me? We spent the better part of fifteen years arguing, fighting, taunting each other. Why would he believe for a second that I wanted to see him succeed?
Standing there looking at him, I saw the same kid who had his mom walk out on him. His dad was too busy looking after a successful farm to raise him. His only friend was me, and he was taught he was above me.
The truth of the matter was that even though this man could get under my skin, I saw to his core. It hadn’t changed since we were eight. Helping him become a better man might bring my friend back. The friend I had before my family was gone, the friend I had before I was left to fend for myself.The only friend I had thought I had needed.
Only time would tell what he would do and what he wouldn’t. He and time held all of the cards. All I could do was steer him in the right direction, like a parent steering a kid who was learning to ride his bike for the first time. I could teach him what he needed to know or let him crash into the mailbox at the end of the street. I didn’t have the heart for the latter. If he could behave, if he genuinely tried, I would, too.
All these years, all the taunting I sent his way, it was to shield my own heart from the eight-year-old boy who told me he hated me. I retreated into myself that day, and then I became stuck there.
