He tilts his head slightly, and I can see that he's conflicted. It dawns on me then that he didn't challenge Madison's pleas, yet he's made it perfectly clear he doesn't want me here. His restraint now feels calculated. Too bad I stopped caring why when I caught him kissing someone else.
I'm coming back for the horse, not the man.
Chapter 14
LONDON
My alarm blares for the third time when I finally decide to put myself out of my misery and get some relief from the pounding inside my head. Yesterday was a complete mindfuck. Processing seeing Laney again after all these years still hadn't fully sunk in, and then she showed up at the wedding. Did I expect Laney to leave town with no questions asked after I demanded she do so? Not exactly. I assumed she would have shown up on my doorstep and demanded an explanation of how I'm here and why, but I sure as hell didn't expect her to show up at the wedding.
She sat in the second row, with Trigg's arm draped over her chair and Sydney Downs on her right. Two fucking ghosts from my past and my brother, whose eyes scrutinized my every move. Knowing he was looking for a reaction already had my blood boiling, but seeing Laney—standing feet away from her and trying not to look in her direction—was like standing behind the gates of hell. I was on fire and attempting to be unfazed by her presence. She wore a satin yellow dress—a replica of the one she wore to prom. Laney knew exactly what she was doing, putting that dress on. She wanted to get my attention. I guess it's a good thing she didn't know she would have it without the dress.
I throw my sheets off, my heavy steps matching the pulsing inmy head as I pad over to the bathroom in search of the ibuprofen. I open the drawer, quickly twist off the cap, and toss four into my mouth before turning on the faucet and drinking straight from the source. I take messy swigs, drinking more than enough to wash the pills down in an attempt to quell my thirst. I feel like shit, and when I have had enough water, the reflection I see in the mirror tells me I look like shit too. I close my eyes, hating how I handled things, only to be reminded of why I drowned myself in a bottle of bourbon: Laney.
She's different now. Her hair is longer, still darker at the roots and platinum at the tips, and her soft curves have been replaced with lean muscle from riding. Still, it wasn't her looks or even the sinful yellow dress that had me twisted up inside. It was her smile and how someone else kept putting it on her face. I had no right to be jealous, but every time I saw it, I couldn't help but remember the days when it was reserved for me. I open my eyes, and the images of her disappear. Good. I need carbs and electrolytes.
I can smell Baylor's thick, black coffee as I walk down the hallway, and today, the sludge actually sounds palatable until I turn the corner and find Trigg in the kitchen too. He's the reason this is happening: inviting her here and entertaining conversations. I try to ignore it, even though I want to confront him and make him reveal his intentions. However, I hold back because doing so would also mean revealing my own. I take a coffee cup out of the cabinet and stop at the fridge to pour a generous amount of half-and-half into my mug. Then, I hurry over to the coffee pot so I can sit on the back deck and find some peace before I start work.
"Good, you're up," Baylor says, entering the kitchen mid-pour. "I need ya to come inspect the fields up by Bristol Creek with me today."
My brow furrows, and I pinch the bridge of my nose and repeat his words, ensuring I heard them correctly before saying, "We don't have fields by Bristol Creek."
We have trails by the creek but not fields. There's a thick acre, if not two, between an old pasture that Baylor turned into a barleyfield and that creek. The land that sits on the other side isn't ours. It's Fairfield land.
"I'll go with you, Dad," Trigg says as I take my first sip of the mud Baylor calls coffee.
"Naw, Dallas knows the land better, and you got a tour to give." Baylor gives us our working orders like he does every day, but today, I can tell by the sour look on Trigg's face that he doesn't like it.
"I grew up on this land. I know the land better than Dallas," he pipes up, his tone ruffled.
"You know good and well that ain't what I meant," Baylor dismisses the comment.
"Then explain it to me, because lately, it's starting to feel like the exiled guest is the prodigal son."
My eyes widen as his comment takes a direction I didn't see coming. Trigg and I aren't enemies, but Laney, and now this… I'm wondering if I haven't misread the relationship I thought we had.
"What in blue blazes has gotten into you, boy? You ain't been interested in farmin' a single day in your life. You handle the horses. He handles the land."
"Not that land," he says with bitterness that has me suddenly wanting to ride up to the damn creek.
Why the hell does the creek named after my father have him spiraling?
Baylor's eyes flick from him to me, and he sets his cup down hard, the contents spilling over the side onto the white granite countertop. "I don't know what's got the two of y'all fightin', but you better listen here. It ain't worth it. Nothin' is worth not havin' your blood." He swallows hard, regrets undoubtedly choking him up. "I reckon y'all know better than anyone that I know the God's hard truth 'bout how accurate that statement is."
Trigg's knuckles turn white as his hand tightens around his phone. "That's rich, considering he's never even told me his real name. Neither of you has ever explained why he's here."
"You never asked me my name!" I point out, my own annoyance piqued.
The week I arrived in Bardstown, he was away in Louisville. Baylor wasted no time introducing me as his brother the second Trigg walked in the front door. We stood there, stunned and looking at each other, realizing we had both grown up believing we were the sole offspring, only to discover we weren't. The hallway's grandfather clock ticked five full seconds before Trigg finally broke the suffocating silence with just three words: "Where you from?" When I answered, "Texas," his lips curved into a smirk, and he said, "Welcome to the family, Dallas." I know he hasn't forgotten that day. He gave me the damn name.
"It's London. My name is London Hale," I answer the first half of the question only to freeze on the second part. I've kept my secret because it doesn't just protect me. It protects her. But Baylor is right. You should be able to trust your blood. The three of us have found our way. Our relationships aren't perfect, and even though my gut tells me Trigg is up to something, that his interest in Laney isn't blind innocence, I don't think he'd intentionally cross me, but his hurt might. "I—" I start to give him the answer he seeks when the doorbell rings.
"That must be your tour now," Baylor says, his eyes locked on Trigg's with a bit of sorriness and tough love.
He sighs frustratedly, and his voice drips with enmity when he asks, "Do I at least get a name?"
"Fisher Downs," Baylor answers coolly, and I spit my coffee.
"I'll get it. I'll do horses today," I frantically rush across the room.
