Page 18 of Total Jane Wreck

I look at the hay bale in front of me and briefly consider throwing my phone into it. “How did you find out?” I ask instead.

Reed laughs, but there’s nothing warm in it. “Jackson’s been on a bender since his dad fired him.”

“Fired him? Why?”

“Because his parents got tired of him sleeping with half the county. They told him to settle down or get out. He got out. Now he’s making the rounds at every bar between here and nowhere, drunk enough to brag to anyone who’ll listen.” Reed’s voice tightens. “One of those people was a buddy of mine. Word is, you caught Jackson and Melissa getting it on, and then you begged for a threesome. They turned you down, so you left.”

The rage that moves through me is swift and physical, like touching a hot stove. “That is not what happened.”

“I know, Janey.”

Something in me goes very still. “You do?”

“Of course. I mean, I had to confront my wife. And Melissa told me the truth.” There’s a strange breathiness to Reed’s voice, like his chest is so hollow that it’s created an echo. “She fessed up. Then she said she’s not in love with me anymore, but we can stay married anyway. No need to shake things up, according to her.”

“Oh, Reed—”

“I’m ending it, of course.” His tone turns hard. “I’m not letting that woman make a fool of me. But Melissa’s already got a divorce attorney, and she’ll be putting me through a wood chipper. Not just me, but Adkins and Son Stables as well.”

A slow, deliberate chill washes down my spine. I grip a brush so hard my hand cramps. “She can’t take Betty. Promise you won’t let her.”

“Nice,” he says, voice flat. When he laughs it’s just air, like the wind in a hollow pipe. “You’re more worried about a horse than you are about your own brother. But I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, you left. And you weren’t even going to say goodbye.”

His anger is like a lit match in dry grass. I try to dam up my own anger, but some leaks through. “What do you want me to do? Come home to be the butt of every family joke? I finally found something I’m good at. I’m not leaving.”

He snorts. “That’s the way it’s always been. Jane Wreck, running from her messes and leaving the family to clean them up. I hope you find what you’re looking for out there.”

He doesn’t end the call, yet the line prickles with so much spite, it’s almost like he has. “Don’t let her take Betty.”

There’s a click, softer than a heart murmur. Reed’s gone.

So I just stand there, listening to Miss Adele’s nervous breathing, my bones buzzing like spent batteries.

Thinking about Betty.

For a moment (when I close my eyes), I’m back in Kentucky. The heat and humidity press in, and the smell of alfalfa wafts overhead. Betty’s in her stall, looking down the aisle for me. She’s puzzled and maybe still a little heart-hurt, as if horses can tally human failings. Which, they can. At least, Betty can.

When Miss Adele nips at my shoulder, I’m back in Colorado, at Resilience Ranch. I put a hand on Miss Adele’s neck, feeling her warmth. “It’s okay,” I murmur.

But that’s a lie. Nothing is okay.

A couple hours later and I’m walking in circles around the property, like a horse in a ring. There’s a soft breeze, carrying with it the hazy sound of female laughter. I look around and spot Axel Rose sitting in a wooden chair on Chet’s porch, with another woman beside her. Between them sits a small table with a bottle of wine and three glasses.

When Axel Rose sees that I’ve noticed her, she waves broadly. “Jane!” she calls. “Come join us!”

Refusing would be rude, so I cross the lawn, cutting between two tidy flowerbeds and climbing the steps to the porch. The other woman is about Axel Rose’s age, with long, straight hair dyed so black it could be patent leather. She’s got hipster energy, dressed in a blazer, a vintage AC/DC concert T-shirt, and ripped jeans, silver rings on every other finger, sunglasses perched on her head even though the sun’s nearly gone. Full of dramatic flair. She stands when she sees me.

“Marigold Sanders,” she says, extending her hand. “Axel Rose is my BFF.”

“Oh!” Shaking her warm, dry hand over and over, I glance at Axel Rose. “Well, butter my backside and call me a biscuit! You’re besties with the Marigold Sanders?”

Axel Rose chortles. “Watch what you say, Jane. You’ll give her a big head.”

Somehow, Marigold releases her fingers from my grasp. “Axel Rose and I go all the way back to middle school in Reston, Virginia.”

My mouth drops open. “And you both wound up here in Sugar Pine! How?”

A crooked grin spreads across Axel Rose’s face. “That’s a story for another day.”