My eyes sting, but I fight the urge to let tears loose. Something inside me twists at the heat in his eyes—it’s not just anger.
There’s something else.
Finally, he lowers his voice. But I prefer yelling over what he says next. “You trying to get my attention, Blue? Well, you’ve got it.” Leaving me with that steely gaze, he turns back to the men.
“Nelson, Barry, you’re shoveling stalls tomorrow. Randy, you too. Then on Sunday”—he turns back to me—“I want you to pick up Rose first thing. You can show her how to lift stones from the pastures.”
Randy scoffs. “All of them? Sounds good to me.” He winks at me.
Jackass.
“Whatever she doesn’t finish, you three will,” he barks.
“What? Boss, it’s supposed to rain tomorrow, the conditions might be—”
“Then I suggest you all dress appropriately. And yes, all of them,” he shouts, and it makes me feel sick.
I can’t breathe.
Is this .?.?. punishment?
Is that a thing around here?
My chest is tight with something I can’t place. Anger?Betrayal? I have no idea what lifting stones means or how long that might take, but it can’t be any worse than the way I feel right now.
My face burns hot and I roll my lips together, barely noticing his eyes drawn to them when I do.
I don’t utter another word. I can’t. I turn on the toes of my boots and run.
20
Rose
My heart is pounding in my chest. It’s so loud, it’s all I hear. Even the muffle of voices behind me has faded out.
It’s pitch black out now, but I know my way back—I think. It doesn’t matter. I’ll just keep going until I see something familiar.
Just as I think I’m screwed because I don’t in fact know where I am, I see my cottage.
Far left, just past the cabins.
The porch lights that Wilder put in for me are on, thankfully, providing enough glow to guide my way.
I pick up on a slow rhythmic crunch of hooves on dirt behind me. It’s not trying to catch up with me as I keep running. It’s not threatening.
I don’t turn back. I’m sure Wilder sent someone to make sure I got back safely. Like I’m some sort of liability.
Just like he ordered someone to put me to work on Sunday.
But that’s just my anger talking. Because I know it’shim.
“Rose, stop.”
My heart twists at the sound of his voice, and I pause for a moment. But I don’t turn around. I sprint for my cottage, racingup the steps.
I don’t need to be yelled at in private too.
“Rose.” It’s an exasperated sigh just before I unlock my door, burst through, and shut it behind me.
