The Son & His Hope (The Ribbon Duet 3)

However, if she knew me, truly knew me, she’d understand that if I let her become my friend, there was no way I wouldn’t care when she was gone. That I wouldn’t miss her, want her, and be miserable in her absence.

I kept people at a distance because I loved too much, not too little.

I’d worshipped the ground my father walked on. I’d looked up to him, adored him, and tried to be him to make him proud. I was like any kid—totally infatuated with his idol—only to learn the hardest lesson a kid could learn.

Love—no matter how deeply it was felt—was not enough to stop death.

In the end, you were helpless.

Utterly, ridiculously helpless.

That was what I was afraid of.

Not love.

God, love for me? It was a drug I was addicted to. I’d grown up drunk on it with parents I adored. But the blind belief that my world would always be perfect was chipped away piece by piece every time Dad coughed until all that remained was a bleeding heart and the stark understanding that it was simply better not to care. Saner not to bother. Less agonising not to fall.

Just like an addict, I could handle being around the substance I wanted by not giving in to it. But Hope was there, offering me tiny morsels, lying to me that it wouldn’t tear me apart if I partook, just a little.

But I knew better.

I knew if I bowed to her deal, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself, and I’d tumble from a place of function into one that would be total, awful chaos.

So no.

Hope was not permitted.

Friendship was banned.

Mom and Aunt Cassie could keep her loneliness at bay, and I would protect all of us by staying far away.

And so, I kept going to work, kept living my life, kept keeping my promise all while Hope slept in my bedroom and borrowed my mother for her own.

For seven days, I grew more and more exhausted, fighting the desire to be part of whatever was going on in the house where I’d been raised and reminding myself all over again that I shouldn’t care.

Until one day, the ramshackle world I lived in came crashing down, and Hope got her wish.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Hope

* * * * * *

I COULDN’T BELIEVE I was about to admit it, but I could only do so much horse riding before I became itchy for other things.

Della had been beyond amazing to me—the true opposite of her short-tempered son. She’d shown me where all the tack lived, the horse feed and vitamins, the trails that were safe, and the perfect picnic spots to sit with a good book and enjoy.

Most mornings, she’d ride with me, but by the afternoon, she had her own life to attend to. Chores to complete, errands to run, and an extended family to take care of without worrying about some random actor’s daughter.

I spoke to Dad every other day and had a few evening Skype sessions with Keeko to assure her I was completing the lessons she’d sent me via email.

All in all, life found a new rhythm, keeping me occupied and content at Cherry River Farm. The loneliness and searching for something other than the paparazzi-filled make-believe life I’d lived had paused, and even though I spent large chunks most days on my own, I wasn’t sad like I’d been in Scotland.

The earth kept me company.

The sky was my friend.

The forest listened to my tales of woe, and the grass was a perfect mattress to nap in the golden glow of warm sunshine.

For seven days, I stayed away from Jacob. Not that that was hard. If I hadn’t caught glimpses of him here and there, I would’ve thought he ran into the trees and never returned.

Most nights, I went for a walk once Della was asleep and I could sneak out unnoticed, but I didn’t bump into him again.

His cabin remained dark.

His deck empty of night-time watchers.

Our fight lingered in the air, but I didn’t let it chase me back inside. I’d become familiar with the grotto, creek, and even gone to see Forrest one evening.

I hadn’t dared go into his paddock, but he’d come to investigate me hanging on his fence. I’d earned a hand sniff followed by a warning snort before he raised his tail and trotted off like any proud stallion.

His attitude reminded me a little of Jacob’s. Bluster threaded with danger and full of warnings—a show of strength when, really, there was so much fragility beneath.

On the eighth day of being a guest of the Wilds, I waved goodbye to Della as she and Cassie hopped into the horse truck to collect more rescues and ensured I bathed Stardust and Cody who’d kindly taken us for a gallop that morning. I fed them, led them back to their paddock, and swept up the hay mess left in the stable.