“Vera Atkins, the spy? You think I am a spy? For who, your father?” I asked, extremely offended.
Was that what all of this was about? He relapsed because he thought that I was in on this with his father? That somehow this was all a trap?
“If the shoe fits,” he sneered.
“Get out of the car,” I told him, seething.
I was two seconds away from throwing my fist at him. He sabotaged himself to get back at me. He wanted to make me feel guilty, but I wouldn’t let him.
He stepped out of the truck and squared up his shoulders like he was anticipating my throw.
I really considered it, but I ultimately chose to use the same weapon as always, my words.
“Why?” I asked him.
“Was your front lawn meeting the first report, the second, the third? Was he happy with my progress?” he asked.
The light left his eyes. He was hurt and angry, but his body didn’t have it in him to fight. It was okay; he didn’t need his body to land a punch. He already had with his actions.
“No, you idiot!” I shouted at him.
“He asked me for information, but I wouldn’t tell him anything, only that you wanted to be a better man, and I saw it in you. Then you go and do some stupid shit like this. How could you ever think I would sell you out? Did you think I wanted to steal this place from you, too? Newsflash, Riley, I want to be a vet. I will eventually leave this place. I don’t want it. Also, what was there to sell out? Until today, you were doing so well. I thought…”
I took a deep breath, feeling winded and enraged.
“Never mind what I thought. I was wrong. Screw up your life however you see fit, Riley. I wanted to care. I really did. Why should I give a damn about you, put our past behind me if you can’t? I am not a snitch. Go inside.”
“I—” Riley tried to say before I cut him off.
“Go inside. I’m sure your father hasn’t seen you yet. You still have time to shower and brush your teeth before he smells you. Then do me a favor. Don’t bother speaking to me or wasting my time again. Don’t come to the stable, and don’t ask for my help. Leave me out of whatever you are doing to screw up your life. I couldn’t fix your dog, and I can’t fix you!” I said, for good measure. I needed to hurt him the way he hurt me. I needed to go for the jugular.
He was hung-over, but he understood my words loud and clear. I brought up what started the feud, what made me hate him all those years ago. I wanted to save that dog, but I couldn’t. I was an eight-year-old girl, not a trained vet. He was too young to understand that, to reason with his emotions. He’d been stuck that way ever since; a hurting eight-year-old in the body of a twenty-three-year-old man.
He continued to stare at me.
“Goodbye, Riley. Get some help or screw up further. I don’t care.”
With that, I turned around on the heels of my boots and walked back to the stable. I turned around when I got to the doors, and he was still watching me. I stuck my middle finger up for good measure before disappearing. I hoped I sent the message loud and clear.
?
It’d been two days since I’d last seen Riley. It’d been two days of quiet and simmering anger. The horses sensed my agitation, and they didn’t like it.
“No Riley today?” Rodrigo asked, picking up on my mood.
“No.”
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
Yes.
“No.”
“Okay, then,” Rodrigo said, sensing I wasn’t in the mood to talk.
I went about my chores as normal, glad for the peace and quiet. I spent a lot of time imagining the ways I would tell Riley to go fuck himself in the future.
I had walls of ice around my heart six inches thick and preferred it that way.
