He turned to leave but paused, patting her shoulder with a gentleness that made her want to pull away.
“You need to keep your strength up. I’ll bring stew.”
Sweet Jesus, no.
The thought of Harry turning into Meals on Wheels made her stomach drop. She didn’t want sympathy and refused to play the role of a wounded victim.
“It’s okay, I’ve got something defrosting. But thanks.” She lied, forcing another smile.
Harry’s brow furrowed as he folded his arms.
“Come on, Shan, we both know that’s not true.” He gave her a knowing look. “Jump in the Jeep with me. The fire’s lit, and there’s a pot of beef stew simmering.”
Before she could protest, Jackson nudged his way through the gap in the door and pressed his nose to her belly. His big, dark eyes stared up at her, pleading in that silent way dogs did, and Shannon’s heart twisted in response.
She sighed. “Really? Emotional blackmail, Harry? I’m sick, you know? I should be in bed, not spreading my germs.”
“Jackson wants company.” Harry winked, his eyes gleaming with that familiar stubbornness.
He wasn’t backing down.
Shannon backed up, unwilling to give in. “He’s got you to keep him company.”
“He has me every night. Anyway, he wants to make sure you’re okay.” Harry tipped the peak of his cap, the mischievous glint in his eye betraying the fact that he was using Jackson to get what he wanted.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” Harry said in a firm, no nonsense tone. “I know when my girl’s upset. Let’s go.”
She wanted to argue, to retreat to the comfort of her own space, but Harry wouldn’t drop it. And Jackson’s silent plea was the final nail in the coffin.
“Fine,” she muttered, letting the duvet slip from her shoulders, revealing the long-sleeve top and leggings she’d thrown on earlier, paired with fluffy socks that offered little warmth against the chill.
She wished she could bury herself in isolation, curled under the covers with the last packet of potato chips and the stale end of a two-day-old baguette.
“There it is...” Harry crouched, lifting the whip she hadn’t been able to bring herself to touch. “I’ll put this in the horse lorry for the next comp.”
She’d wrestled with the decision to destroy it or stash it away. On one hand, it held memories of Jamie and on the other, it reminded her of Niall, and the darkness that followed him.
The fucking whip. Her stomach twisted seeing the damn thing in Harry’s hand as he turned away.
“Come on, Shan. Grab a coat,” he shouted over his shoulder. “It’s freezing out here.”
She picked the biggest, thickest waterproof coat she could find and slid into a pair of fieldboots.
Cloaked in a deep blueberry-coloured raincoat, she pulled the door shut behind her, locked it and trudged down the stone steps. The rain hammered against her hood and bounced off the cobbled yard like stones.
“Are you sure Niall’s not coming back today?” Her voice came out muffled under the sputtering engine after she slid into the passenger seat.
“Come on, old girl.” Harry leaned forward, as if willing the Jeep to move. “Nah. It’s just me, you, and Jackson.”
At the mention of his name, Jackson’s face appeared between the front seats, his tongue lolling out in a happy pant.
The Jeep’s wheels left the cobbles behind, racing onto the uneven path toward the main house. Potholes jostled them with each bump, but Harry didn’t slow down.
He had a thing for speed, and even on this rough track, he handled the wheel with the same precision he did in the saddle.
The house lights twinkled ahead, stark against the pitch-black countryside. When the soles of her boots hit the ground, she winced and stumbled from the Jeep. The alcohol on an empty stomach hadn’t helped much.
