After speaking to Hunter, I’m more certain than ever that the reason she left was because she was sick and not because she was having a secret affair like Noah had suggested.
I’m also sure that my sister doesn’t know about any of this, either. If Bella had known about Daisy being sick, she wouldn’t have been able to keep that to herself. Unless she’s suddenly a really good fucking liar.
Which means I’m not the only person Daisy shut out. And I’m not sure if I feel better or worse about that. Because if that is the case, then it’s very likely that she has been dealing with the alone.
What I don’t understand, and I have been circling this question in my mind on repeat all week, is why she wouldn’t come to me about it.
I would have supported her.
I would have been whatever she needed me to be, whenever she needed it.
Even now.
If she came to me today and told me she needed me, I would be there. No ifs, buts or questions about it.
Because despite everything, she was my best friend.
The love of my life.
And she always will be.
I have no insight to what her life was like in Montana. If she had friends, or a boyfriend. And I don’t know what made her come home after all this time, but I would be lying if I said I’m not happy about it.
Because for years I have dreamt of the day she would return. And for the longest time, I truly believed that the day would never come.
I used to imagine how I would react seeing her for the first time again. In some scenarios, I would be happy. I would wrap my arms around her and tell her she was never leaving me again. Other times I was so full of anger I couldn’t even look at her.
Neither of those ideations played out. And as much as I’ve been a dick to her since she returned, it doesn’t change the fact that I missed her.
God, I missed her so fucking much.
My phone blares with my second alarm, because I usually suck at dragging my ass out of bed, and I sit up with a long sigh, scrubbing at my face with both hands.
Deciding that I’ve procrastinated long enough, I haul my ass out of bed and into the shower, where I try to come up with a way in which I can make myself morepresentwithout sparking suspicion.
CHAPTER 12
DAISY
One of my favourite things about being a horse groomer has always been the independence of the job. I can zone out and do my thing peacefully without really having to interact with anyone.
Working alone, with only the sounds of quiet whinnies and thewhooshof a horse brush against the horse’s back is where I find inner peace. My own version of ASMR.
I’m quickly coming to learn that The Calloway Ranch is not the place for peace. At least not for me, anyway.
I’ve long accepted the fact that Noah is never going to be my biggest fan. He can join the line amongst the other residents of Rosewater Creek that hate me for hurting one of their own. But, if he brings meone moremud-covered horse, I will not be responsible for my actions.
And I’m not talking your standard working horse kind of dirty. I’m talking I-let-this-horse-roll-in-it’s-own-shittwice, kind of dirty. Three times this week he has conveniently shown up right beforelunch with one, barely sparing me a glance as he leads them into their stalls before muttering his bullshit orders at me and stalking off.
The way he’s behaving, you’d think it washimI’d walked out on and not his friend. I’ve had about enough of it.
Sure enough, ten minutes before twelve I look up to find him walking toward me, the same filly I groomed for him just yesterday trailing behind him – once again covered in God knows what.
My blood boils.
I calmly close the latch on the stall I was working in and reach down for my bucket of grooming supplies before marching over to the smug bastard, the simmering anger evident on my face.
Noah’s smirk falters ever so slightly as I drop the bucket at his feet with a loud crash and glare at him. “Do it your fucking self, you immature bastard.”
