Page 110 of Paper Horses

I inhaled, the sensation cutting against my throat.

“Take it, Liv. It’s worth it. I promise you.”

He turned and walked away. As he opened the door, I asked, “How do you know we didn’t have another fight, and that’s why I left?”

Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he gave me a mischievous grin. “Your nails are pink, and you’ve hated that color since the day you returned home from school.” I didn’t close my mouth as it gaped at him. “We’ll meet at one to discuss the ranch.”

He was gone, leaving me stunned and confused. He’d always been the softer one, the one better in touch with his emotions. Like our mother, only the depression hadn’t sunk its claws into him. Maybe I had my father to thank for that, but I never would. Gabe talked to him when necessity warranted, but I hated him for what he’d done to us, and nothing would ever change that.

I looked out my window, watching the cars below, my thoughts on all Gabe had said before they turned to Hudson, where they stayed the rest of the day.

Chapter 26

Hudson

Aweek passed with no word from Olivia and no relief from the constant pang in my heart as it attempted not to shrivel and die. The house became a constant reminder of her. Perfume that clung to every fiber of cloth, stray hairs caught on my jacket, a tube of lip gloss left in the bathroom. But it was the empty side of the bed that rattled me every night, the warmth that was missing. And not the warmth of just anybody. It was her warmth, her essence, that no longer filled the space. It was a sensation that had engulfed me when she’d left the first time and that I’d only ever had with her.

On Friday, I received an email from her assistant with specifics on the next stages of the ranch, and I emailed him back saying I wanted to hear directly from her. My only reply was a curt email from her saying to send the assistant my recommendations for builders or they would hire someone.

It chafed, rubbing against the wound she’d left, but somehow I knew it was her defenses. She wasn’t ready to talk yet. Hadn’t found whoever she was searching for by cutting herself off from me.

After the third week, I knew I couldn’t take much more. The phone sat in my hand, her contact information up, my fingers ready to text her. To say what, I wasn’t sure. I stared at her name, yearning clawing at me until I closed it out and put the phone away. She would call me when she was ready. I just didn’t know when that would be or if I could survive that long.

Having her gone left me only time to think, and as the days compounded the agony that spoiled my mood and kept me from going into town, even after the snow cleared up, I considered what my options were if she didn’t want to leave New York and concluded that asking her to do so was selfish. Either way, one of us looked selfish, but she had lost so much in her life. Some stolen from her, some sacrificed. Her mother, her childhood. Her relationship with her brother. Me. I wasn’t certain I could ask her to sacrifice more, even if it was just a few days a week of traveling between homes.

I wiped my hands on my jeans and left the barn, my stomach growling even though my appetite had been lacking. When I reached the porch, I found a package. I hadn’t even heard the delivery truck.

Snow still covered the land, the air a bitter reminder that winter was here. Snagging the package, I kicked the snow from my boots and took them off at the door. After hanging up my coat and hat, I carried the package to the island and ripped it open, falling to the stool when I found the pink journal I’d given Olivia. The leather had a worn look, the pages full when I flipped through it. And under my dedication to her was a note.

I can’t let you love me until you know who I really am.

Olivia

My heart thudded in an erratic pattern as I grabbed a glass of water and took a seat with the journal on my couch. If I’d known how engrossed I would become, I might have grabbed a beer and lunch, but I hadn’t, and it was well past dinner by the time I finished reading. The journal fell with a flop into my lap as I contemplated all I had read. Moments that had taken place during the years we’d dated. All the times she had told me not to visit her, to stay home and she would find a way to see me.

She would come to stay with my family in the summer, sometimes for a week or two. Other times we would meet halfway and spend the day together. Never had it been enough, and our breaks became torturous events. Perhaps they had hardened me to being without her for long periods, but regardless, I had hated them.

And all the time, she had been hiding the violence, both physical and emotional, the constant belittling, the emotions that would have tipped any person over the edge. Keeping it caged and never sharing it with me until now. Within every memory were the reminders of what I had provided for her. The constant focus on my strength and how it kept her from faltering, how returning to me eased the strain and gave her a reprieve. The force of my love for her and the conviction that it would never fade.

I leaned forward and rested my head in my hands. The urge to call her, to comfort her, screamed through me like a wicked storm. My stomach grumbled again, and I rose, taking the journal to my office and storing it away with the paper horses I’d tucked back into my desk after she had left. My fingers drifted over them before I closed the drawer and made my way back to the kitchen. With each step, my resolve strengthened. It was time to take the burden from her and be the one to sacrifice this time because if I didn’t, she would sacrifice again, and it would be me she would give up.

I pulled my phone out as I took a beer from the fridge and dialed Jessie.

“Hey. How are you?” She and Carl had texted multiple times, but I hadn’t been ready to talk. Still wasn’t.

“Surviving.” That was a stretch. “Can you and Carl mind the ranch for me for a few days?”

I could hear the smile in her voice when she answered. “Sure. When?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Nothing like short notice. We’ll be there.”

I hung up, and, after settling the horses for the night, sat at my computer and booked the first flight out to New York City.

I rubbed my neck, trying to quiet the headache that was pounding. City life had always grated on my nerves. Too loud, too many people, too much of everything.

“So the prodigal son returns.”