“It’s gonna feel pretty damn far when I try to get out on numb legs and a cramped ass.”
“God, you’re worse than a woman. Stop your bitching and find us some good music to listen to.”
Our barbed banter continues the rest of the one hundred and twelve miles to the track. The race we’re attending is one of the biggest before the Colonial Cup in November. I know all the big names in Southern breeders have at least one horse in the mix. If I hope to get Rags in a race early next year, I need to check out the competition.
At the track, after we’ve parked, Rusty and I head for the stable area. I made sure we left in enough time to be able to mill around down there and check out the horseflesh, maybe pick up on a little something helpful or important. I hadn’t planned on jumping into this blind. I guess I’d sort of figured I’d get to know a lot more about this stuff from Sooty and Jack, but…
I stop to introduce myself to several trainers along the way. They’re polite enough, most of them not seeing me as any kind of competition. I have my age working for me in that way. They don’t fear me or feel threatened by me, which means they’re more likely to answer my questions and feel more relaxed in talking than they might otherwise. At least that’s my theory. And it seems to be spot-on so far.
After talking to a trainer out of the more Northern parts of the state, I see the familiar colors of Jack’s operation—dark purplish-blue and deep brick red. Maybe it’s where I haven’t seen it in a while or maybe it’s where I still can’t get Cami out of my head, but the blue looks just like her eyes and the red isn’t that far off from her hair. Could be my imagination, but I wonder if Cherlynn’s looks had anything to do with Jack picking those colors for his horses. Maybe, like me, he was so in love with her, he saw her everywhere, saw her eyes and her hair in every blue and red around.
I turn back the other way. No sense making it harder than it has to be. No reason to torture myself. It’s been months since I’ve seen Cami, but it hasn’t gotten any easier. In fact, it might even be getting harder every day. I’m not sure. Sometimes it feels like it can’t hurt any more. But the next day, it does.
Rusty grabs my arm. “Where you going, man? Don’t you know him or something?”
I look around to see who Rusty’s talking about. I see Sooty standing at the door of a stall, looking in my direction. Our eyes meet and he nods. I nod in return. He tips his head toward the stall and disappears inside. I debate whether or not to go talk to him.
Surely it can’t hurt anything, right?
I turn around and walk back to where Sooty disappeared. In a way, I hope Cami is in there with him. Even though it would probably kill me to see her, I want to. Just one more time. Up close.
But he’s alone in the stall. Just him and Highland Runner.
I know the shock registers on my face.
“Are you kidding me?”
Sooty smiles in that way he has. It’s mischievous. And pleased.
“Nope. I told you, you were right about him. He’s got something. He’s a winner.”
“Is this his first race?”
“Naw, we’ve had him in some smaller ones. Jack wasn’t convinced too easy. But once he saw him run…”
Pride, and lots of it, bubbles up in me. I feel like laughing and whooping like a kid. But I don’t. I just smile. It’s probably a pretty big smile, though.
“Damn.”
Sooty laughs. “That all you’ve got to say?”
“What else
should
I say?”
“I don’t know, but I hope you’re proud, son. Jack’s been picking and breeding winners for a lot of years. I’ve never seen him wrong about a horse, never seen him misjudge talent. He’s got a great eye. But you…you got something different, Trick. You were born to work these horses. It’s in your blood.”
I take a deep breath. There’s a swell of emotion in there that I don’t want to get the better of me. Not knowing what else to do, I stick out my hand. Sooty takes it.
“Thanks, Sooty. I just…I don’t know… Thanks. It means a lot.”
He winks at me. “I knew it would.” Sooty leans back against the wall and tips his hat up. “What brings you ‘round?”
“Just checking out the competition.”
“Competition? Is that right?”
I nod. “Got a horse of my own now. I’m making a go of it. I don’t know exactly how it’ll turn out, but I have to try.”
“You talking ‘bout that wild horse? Did you finally get it?”
I can’t remember ever telling Sooty about my plans for adopting Rags.
“Yeah, I did. A couple months ago. How’d you know?”
“Pretty little bird told me you had plans for one,” he says with another wink. “Glad to hear you got him.”
Cami was talking to Sooty about me? I’m not sure how I feel about that. Encouraged, for sure. Curious. Confused.
Damn! Don’t give me hope after all this time.
But it’s too late. It’s already opening up in my gut—hope. Maybe she’d changed her mind somewhere along the way, but just didn’t have the nerve to come find me. After all, I never got to tell her how I feel, even after she’d accidentally told me she loved me. Maybe I should’ve. Maybe that would’ve made a difference.
Sooty and I talk shop for a little longer, but my mind is far, far from the conversation. All I can think about is Cami and if I should find a way to run into her, just to see if maybe she’s having regrets, too. I wouldn’t be disrespecting or pressuring her that way. I could make it casual, just enough of a run-in to gauge her reaction.
We say our goodbyes and Rusty and I make our way to the stands to watch the race. I keep an eye out for Jack, but don’t see him.
When the race is about to start, it’s no surprise that I’m already rooting for Highland Runner. I’m almost as invested in him as I am Rags. I feel like they’re both mine, my projects, my winners. My validation.
The gun goes off and the gates open. The race is on. I can’t imagine being any more tense if my own horse was running. I feel like every muscle in my body is tight, on edge. And when Runner crosses the finish line a full head ahead of the next closest horse, I’m on my feet raising all hell before I can even think twice.
“Dude, calm down. You act like that’s your horse out there,” Rusty says from beside me. “Are you forgetting
that’s
the competition?”
I can’t stop smiling. “No, I’m not forgetting. But this win is proof that I can do it, that I know what the hell I’m talking about. They all doubted me, but now they see.” In my head, Cami’s face on the beach at Currituck swims by. She didn’t doubt me. I don’t think she ever really did. “I can pick a winner, Rusty.” I turn to him and grab both his arms. I have the ridiculous urge to hug him and slap him on the back. I don’t, but in my excitement, I do thump his chest with my fist a couple times. I can’t help it. “Whooo! Holy shit, I can actually pick the winners!”
I’m relieved. And excited. And relieved to
be
excited. That’s been markedly absent since Cami. I’m so caught up in it, I pay little attention to the people around me as we make our way toward the Winner’s Circle. I have to congratulate Sooty. And maybe let Sooty congratulate me. That might be pretty cool. More than any of that, though, I want to look Jack Hines in the eye, even if it’s from a distance, and let him see that I know. He needs to see that I know I was right. And that he was wrong.
The crowd gets denser the closer I get to the circle. Luckily I’m tall, so I can see above the majority of heads between me and the people I’m looking for.
I spot Sooty first. He’s standing there like a proud father. Beside him is Jack Hines. His arm is over Sooty’s shoulders like they’re the best of friends. I snicker. I doubt Jack is anybody’s friend. Jack looks out for Jack and nobody else. Except maybe Cami. And even that I’m not so sure of. He seems more concerned with her making a good match than just being happy.
I keep my gaze trained on him until he looks my way. His expression changes almost imperceptibly when our eyes meet. It could be my imagination, but I don’t think so. It tells me all I need to know.
Jack Hines will never think I’m good enough, no matter the proof or the reward. Jack Hines will never approve of me—for his daughter, for his horses, for his respect. Jack Hines will always see my father when he looks at me. Jack Hines will always be distrustful and superior, hard to please and snobby.
But he’s the father of the person I’m pretty sure I can’t live without, the person I know I don’t
want
to live without. So where does that leave me?
Maybe I should approach him, try to talk to him. Maybe that could be my way back into Cami’s good graces.
I’m debating the best way to handle the situation, the best way to handle
him
when I see a flash of red move behind Jack. It’s a color I see everywhere and nowhere, a color that haunts my thoughts all day and my dreams all night.
Instantly, Jack is forgotten when he turns and pulls his daughter in between him and Sooty. She looks amazing in a dark purple shirt that brings out that hint of violet in her eyes. Her hair is pulled up in a sexy way with a few pieces waving around her face and neck. Makes me want to get her alone somewhere and run my fingers through it. Mess it up the fun way.
She turns her head to speak to someone and I look behind her. It’s that douche of a boyfriend I thought she’d dumped. Brent.
My stomach and every last drop of hope I had plummets through the pavement.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE- Cami
Brent is asking me something, but I can’t hear him over the crowd. I’ve wished a thousand times Daddy had at least had the balls and the decency to tell me he’d invited him. Not that it matters now. I’m stuck with him trying to be all attentive and touchy-feely. It’s driving me crazy.
Finally, when I feel his hand at my waist as he tries to get my attention, I turn to address him.
“What is it, Brent?”
I hate my snippy tone, but he’s pushing all my buttons for some reason. Probably because he’s not Trick, which he can’t help. But still…
His smile doesn’t falter. “I just got a call and I have to head back. Why don’t you ride back with me?”
I turn away from him, swallowing my frustration. I start to answer him, but my response dies on my lips when my eyes collide with the pale green ones that haunt my every waking minute. And many of my non-waking ones, too.
It’s Trick.
My heart flounders in my chest and I can’t breathe for just a second as he watches me. A thousand scenarios run through my head, most of them worthy of a made-for-television movie or at the very least a soda commercial. They all involve us running into each other’s arms in some way, shape or form.
But then his expression darkens, as if he’s not very happy to see me at all, and my dreamy visions drift away like smoke on the wind.
His lips thin and he turns and walks away. He doesn’t acknowledge me in any other way. He doesn’t bother with any kind of social nicety. He just gives me a dirty look and leaves.
I feel nauseous. And hopeless. And alone. Deeply alone. The kind of alone that says I will never find someone to take his place. That I will die missing him, wanting him, mourning him. And now I know there’s nothing I can do about it. His mother was right. There was no misunderstanding. Trick washed his hands of me when he left my house that day. All this time, I’ve been holding on to a dream, to an idea that doesn’t exist. I don’t think it ever did. I made much more of our relationship than he did. I was drowning in him, in
us
and he was…treading water until he started to swim again. Until he started to swim away. From me.
Through tear-filled eyes, I watch the back of Trick’s head disappear into the crowd. Daddy leans his head down to speak into my ear. “Don’t forget you’re in the spotlight.”
Point taken.
I blink quickly to clear my blurry vision and I smile brightly for all those who are watching. I wait until all the camera bulbs have flashed and all the commotion has run its course and then I make my excuses. I push my way through the crush of bodies and make my way to Brent’s car as fast as I can. I have to get out of here. I don’t know how much longer I can contain the volcano of misery that’s churning just beneath the surface. It’s only a matter of time before I explode and then melt away.
Taking my phone out, I text my father to let him know I’ll be riding home with Brent. I know he’ll be very happy about that little tidbit and it irks me. Almost as an afterthought, I text Brent to let him know I’m waiting at the car.
Within a couple minutes, I see him heading toward me. He’s smiling. A smug smile. Probably a lot like the one Daddy’s wearing. I don’t have to see him to know it’s there. I know my father very well.
When Brent reaches me, he hits the button to unlock the doors and I climb inside. He turns to me to speak and I just hold up my hand. I don’t even look at him.
“I can’t do this right now. Just drive, Brent. Please.”
I close my eyes and lean my head back, hoping the gesture will speak volumes and put an end to further conversation. And it does. But I can still sense his displeasure. It just so happens that, at the moment, I don’t give a rat’s ass.