The Son & His Hope (The Ribbon Duet 3)
I didn’t bother telling him that I was a terrible actress.
He sighed as if he’d needed my agreement more than he let on. His eyes fluttered closed, and on the softest breath, he murmured, “Thanks.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Jacob
* * * * * *
“KNOCK, KNOCK. JACOB?”
I rolled my eyes, giving Hope an exasperated look. “It’s open, Mom. You don’t need to say ‘knock, knock.’ Just come in.”
Mom stepped hesitantly through the open glass doors into my simple but cosy living room. She eyed me suspiciously.
I’d deliberately sprawled on the couch—even though it hurt my lower back—and her sharp gaze took in the remnants of cheese toasties and curly fries that Hope had made for lunch on the coffee table.
“What’s going on?” Her eyes danced from me to Hope sitting lotus-style next to me, her eyebrows rising. “I noticed the west paddock hasn’t been raked.” Her face didn’t know if it wanted to settle into annoyed or worried. “Any reason why?”
I didn’t like the way she studied me, but I didn’t have the mobility to move and hide. My head pounded like a bastard, my vision flickered sometimes, and my lower back was hot and achy. Pins and needles occasionally shot through my hands, making me very aware I might’ve tweaked a nerve or two in my spine.
“Decided to take the day off.” I motioned to Hope with my chin while grabbing the TV remote and making a big display of pausing the movie. A movie Hope had chosen on Netflix, but something I hadn’t been paying attention to.
My thoughts had been on my fall. Reliving the rush of galloping Forrest as fast as he could over the tree trunk. Cringing under the memory of tumbling over his head as the horse cartwheeled one way and I went the other.
I didn’t feel the ground; everything was just black.
I hadn’t seen it coming, and I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it.
If Hope hadn’t been there…well, I might still be in agony in the very same meadow where Dad almost died.
Rather convenient she’d set up a picnic spot not far from where I’d almost killed myself. I’d eyed her when she told me where she’d been—not quite believing her. Especially seeing as she had a habit of eavesdropping and following me around when she thought I didn’t notice.
After lunch, I’d made Hope inspect Forrest from nose to tail to ensure he didn’t have any swelling or cuts from our shared accident.
She’d touched him gingerly while I sat on the bench on the deck. She wasn’t afraid of him per se, just very aware that he was a moody bugger and could cause her injury in a single second.
Luckily, it was just me with the wounds, and Forrest returned to eating grass around my home, mowing a haphazard path as he followed his nose to sweeter shoots.
“It was my fault, Della.” Hope smiled innocently. “After our ride together, I saw Jacob heading to work. I asked him to give me a tour.”
“A tour?” Mom frowned, not believing that I’d suddenly become an amiable guide.
“Mm-hm.” Hope nodded, biting her lower lip before adding in a rush, “He didn’t want to, of course. But I…”
Her green gaze caught mine, full of conspiracies to keep my secret hidden. For an actress, she wasn’t very good at telling a convincing story.
Inhaling quick, she finished, “I didn’t take no for an answer. He kindly showed me around, then I offered to make lunch and chill for a bit.”
“Right.” Mom crossed her arms. “Say I believe this highly unlikely tale, what exactly is Forrest doing out of his paddock and eating our soon-to-be cut baleage?”
I cleared my throat, smirking. “He’s allowed a day off too, Mom. Don’t you think?”
“Humph.” She tapped her foot, looking me up and down. “What’s really going on? Are you hurt again? What did you do this time?”
My heart picked up. I never knew how she did that, but she always seemed to know if I was injured. Gritting my teeth, I pushed upward, forcing my body through its aches and bruises to stand.
The world went black for a second while I waited for blood flow to restore my vision. When I could see again, I spread my arms, TV remote still in hand. “Not hurt. See?”
Mom came closer, only for Hope to shoot up and intercept her. “Do you want help with dinner? It’s late, and I’m getting hungry again. I’ll walk back with you to the house if you want?”
Mom’s stern worry for me melted in soft affection for Hope. “Sure, that would be lovely. Be nice to have some company.” Her eyes flashed to mine, making sure I got her message—that I hadn’t been around much this week, and I’d let her down. “You’ll come too, right, Wild One?”
I shrugged. “Nah, think I’ll crash actually. Big day tomorrow. Early start and all. You know how it is.”