Page 41 of Paper Horses

“Go inside. I’m not ready to talk about numbers. I need to get away from you.”

I stared at his back, then at the truck as it tore down the drive, sending stones flying in its path. Defeated, I dropped to the stairs and stared out at the land, pondering if admitting the truth would have been worse than this, if setting my tears free was a bad thing. They had festered inside me for so long that their weight was familiar, and I didn’t know if I knew how to live without them.

Hudson didn’t return, and I found myself on the couch, flicking through television channels until exhaustion set in and I fell asleep. I woke to find a blanket over me, the television off, and the morning sun streaming in through the windows. With a yawn, I sat up and looked at my watch. Nine-thirty. I’d slept for over fourteen hours. More sleep than I’d gotten in far too long.

I pushed the blanket off, thinking it a sweet touch that Hudson had covered me. In the kitchen was a note saying he was tending the horses, and there was cereal in the cabinet.

Cereal? What grown man still ate cereal? I chuckled, thinking of how Reid had made me eat his marshmallow cereal with him. The memory flicked to nights with Hudson, where we shared a bowl of cereal, curled up on the couch while we watched a movie. The memory caused a smile to fight my grimace, and I rubbed it away.

Heading upstairs, I found my new clothes neatly folded on the bed. Hudson. He’d finished my wash and not only brought it up but folded it. The depths of this man were too complicated to understand.

I showered, trying to ignore Hudson’s products and chastising myself when I sniffed his aftershave. Pulling on a clean pair of jeans, I rubbed my hand down the fabric, wondering why I never wore them or dressed comfortably. I once had. I’d convinced a friend to go to the city and shop with me, then hid the jeans from my father until I’d moved to school. The day I met Hudson was the first day I’d broken out of my formal attire and tried something new.

I grabbed a shirt from the pile, this one gray with short sleeves. It wasn’t bad. Not the material I would normally wear, but it was soft on my skin and emphasized my small chest. It hugged my figure just as well as one of my dresses. Pulling out a pair of socks with kittens on them, I shook my head and tugged them on. Then I took my phone out and shot a picture of my feet, sending it to Gabe with a terse, I hate you.

He was quick to answer with a laughing emoji. Dots appeared before he added, Are you wearing jeans?

Liv: I really hate you.

I could hear his laughter with every damn emoji he sent. Five in total.

Liv: I have ideas. Can you do some research on horse auctions?

Gabe: Sure thing. I knew you would.

Liv: I’m sure that’s the only reason you sent me here.

Gabe: Maybe.

Liv: Give the munchkin a hug for me.

Gabe: Look at you softening up, Auntie Liv.

Liv: Shut up. I hate you again.

Gabe: You’ll get over it.

The phone landed with a muted thud when I tossed it on the bed. Returning to the kitchen, I contemplated the coffee maker. This I knew how to use because I had a similar one at home. It was rare I made my own coffee, but at least I wouldn’t invite Hudson’s teasing with this task. I found the mugs, grabbing one with a logo on it. While I hunted in the refrigerator for creamer, there was a knock on the door.

I straightened, wondering how weird it would be if I answered Hudson’s door. Not that there was anyone else to do it. I strolled over and opened it to find Jessie with her hands full. Behind her, dark clouds filled the sky, casting thin streams of sun through them. The wind whipped her blonde hair around.

“Mornin’, Olivia.” She pushed past me and went straight to the island, where she placed the bag.

“Sorry, I didn’t know Hudson was expecting company.” I wanted to kick myself for having apologized. Men didn’t apologize, as my father had scolded, so neither should I. And I never had. Until I found myself here, in this convoluted mess.

“He isn’t. Dennie shut the diner down early. The storm’s coming, and businesses are shuttering up. It’s gonna be a nasty one. We had soup from last night’s dinner, and I thought I’d bring you all some. Hudson had two bowls last night.” She turned to me while I let that statement roll around in my head. “You weren’t there, though.”

She took the large containers to the refrigerator as if she lived here and put them inside.

“Sorry, but why are you in here like this is your house?” There I went again with the apologies, and now there was an edge to my tone. It sounded nasty. She’d been nothing but nice to me, but seeing her in his house, comfortable enough to walk right in, brought a sting of envy I didn’t know what to do with.

Closing the refrigerator door, she gave me a smile. “Hudson and I were friends long before we dated, and when we broke up, we agreed to remain friends. It’s been seven years since I made the mistake of thinking I could break down his walls.” She folded the paper bag up and walked to the other side of the room, where she opened a door that led to a pantry I hadn’t noticed. Stepping on her tiptoes, she tucked the bag onto a shelf. “We’re friends. That’s all. He and my husband go fishing and drink together.” She came over to me. “I tried to get under that gruff exterior, thinking I could fix him, but he didn’t want to be fixed. And when I stepped away, removed my emotions, I realized only one woman could fix him. The only one he ever loved.”

My lips parted, the air in my lungs refusing to flee. She put her hand on my arm, and I bristled at the touch.

“Whatever your reasons for breaking that man, I can see the toll it took. Not just on him, but on you. Pain recognizes pain, especially on that level. And I see it in you. Don’t let it destroy your what-ifs because if I were you, I would fight with everything I had to have him lift it from you.”

She left me stricken, too stunned to move.