Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 128313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
I had no idea what they were like as riders, or even what they looked like. I’d been too preoccupied to look. Thankfully, I had a rock-solid team around me who had run Knighton Equestrian for me the past few months whilst I’d been consumed with other things.
“Wait,” I said, suddenly recalling an infatuation Atticus had years ago with an American rider during his summer abroad. “Is she the one . . . ?”
“He’s obsessed with,” Forrest said, in a tone that suggested he was sick of hearing her name. “Yes.”
Atticus kept smiling, unbothered by Forrest’s dry jab.
Leaning forward, Atticus said, “Sage Miller is living fire, Jas. And she burns with hatred for me, and me only.” He sighed, but as though the thought turned him on, not upset him. “She’s fucking magnificent.”
“But back to why they are here,” Leon said, a look of censure aimed at Atticus. “Sage Miller is the riskiest rider I’ve seen in a long while. She’s fearless and rides each course like she’s storming into battle. Strong, bold, and brave.” Atticus nodded in agreement, but his eyes were hooded. I wanted nothing to do with whatever the fuck was happening between them. It sounded like a shit show.
“And Hallie?” I asked.
Leon’s face immediately lit up. It was hard to impress Leon, and I could already see stars in his eyes over the younger American rider. “Elegant, poetic, graceful. She rides like she was grown from a saddle. When she jumps, she looks like she’s soaring. She has the best seat of anyone I’ve seen.” He gave me a sidelong glance. “Well, almost.” I waved him off. Leon appeared lost in thought, then said, “A little rebellious, perhaps. Mutuals of ours have described her as stubborn and immoveable when she wants to do something her way.” Leon shrugged. “But I respect that.”
“She’s your favorite, then?” Genny asked. “I’ve competed against her before in the Under-25s. She—actually, both Hallie and Sage—are stunning riders. Hallie always stood out to me as a little wild and untamed, but in all the best ways. Not your typical competitor, that’s for sure.”
I covered my sister’s hand with my own, giving it a slight squeeze. I knew it was probably because I was her brother, but I heard the slight shake in her voice when she mentioned competing. Genny’s whole world had been jumping until her accident. In the blink of an eye, the horse world lost both of us from the circuit. And my father too, who had done more for this sport than anyone in recent British history.
Genny gave me a tight smile, and Leon went on to hold court. As we ate, he told us of his goals for this season and just how impressive our team was on paper. By the time Geraldine had served us dessert, I felt better than I had in a while. A little calmer. But I wasn’t naive. I knew it was a temporary reprieve from the inner demons that had now become my closest companions.
As we all stood, one by one, my cousins said their good-nights. Forrest hung around until it was just Genny, him, and me. He put his hand on my shoulder. “Was that okay?”
“More than,” I said, and pulled him in for a quick hug.
“No more hiding away, okay?” he said when he pulled back, eyes boring into mine, telling me he meant it.
“Yeah,” I said. Then sighed.
“Especially over this next week,” he added. My stomach fell. I nodded but found myself unable to speak.
Genny was silent as she watched us. Sensing she wanted to speak to me alone, Forrest kissed my sister on her cheek, then said, “I’ll leave you both to catch up. See you tomorrow.” I watched my cousin leave the family room and wondered again what I would do without them all in my life.
“Come sit beside me,” Genny said, and patted the seat that was right by where she’d moved her wheelchair. I sat down and held her hand. “How are you coping with his anniversary coming up?”
The food I’d just eaten curdled in my stomach. “I imagine how you feel too,” I said, and watched Genny’s pretty face cloud with sadness.
Genny sighed, then said, “No, Jas. You certainly feel it more.” I stilled and studied my little sister. She was six years younger than me, and I’d been her self-appointed protector since the day she was born. Even now she was twenty-six, I couldn’t shake that responsibility. Genny held my hand tighter. “I miss Dad. More than anything. But we must move on, Jas. You’ve been living a Groundhog Day for far too long now.”
I shook my head. “I can’t. Too much has happened. Someone is after us, Genny.” I laughed without humor. “They attacked you. Drugged Lady Dahlia. You both still have a long recovery ahead of you.” A year and a half ago, Genny’s horse was drugged in Saint-Tropez during the Sandings Grand Prix Tour. Lady Dahlia went down midjump and landed on Genny, fracturing my sister’s spine and a multitude of bones. In that moment, I thought I’d lost my sister. The investigation revealed that someone had pumped the horse so full of ketamine it’s a wonder she could even see the fences. Lady Dahlia hadn’t recovered well and now couldn’t be ridden, as she was so traumatized by the accident. Genny could barely walk, and we had no idea who had done it to us. To her.