Through the window, the driver from the other vehicle climbed into the ambulance with his horses.
The cruiser pulled away from the scene, leaving the flashing lights behind. But the image stayed burned into my retinas. Windchaser with her shattered leg, the driver with his shattered dreams, and the trust in that horse's eyes as she nuzzled against the man whose life I'd destroyed.
You're a liability, Henley.
Coach Martin had been trying to warn me. Had been trying to save me from myself.
But I'd been too arrogant, too angry, and too much like my father to listen.
The holding cell was small, cold, and smelled like industrial cleaner and despair. They'd processed me around three in the morning. Fingerprints, mug shot, an inventory of my belongings. My one phone call went to Sunny Sunland, my lawyer, who answered with the weary tone of someone who'd been expecting this call for a long time.
"I'll be there in an hour," she'd said. "Don't say anything to anyone, Easton. Not one word."
Silence.
My reflection stared back at me from the polished metal surface. Bruised face, split lip where the airbag had connected.But the physical damage was nothing compared to what lived in my eyes.
I looked like my father.
Eyes red with the same hard edges. The same inability to back down or admit fault.
Chasing his approval my entire life.
Trying to be him.
Trying to live up to a legend that maybe wasn't worth living up to at all.
Dad had been tough. Had pushed me to excel. But he'd also been angry. Screaming at refs, at coaches, at anyone who dared suggest he wasn't the best. He'd taught me that strength meant never showing weakness, that real men handled their problems with their fists, that walking away was the same as losing.
And I'd learned those lessons so well that I'd destroyed everything I touched.
Sunny arrived as promised, immaculate in a suit despite the hour. She sat across from me in the tiny consultation room and laid out the reality of my situation with brutal honesty.
"Reckless driving resulting in property damage. Reckless endangerment. The horse owner is considering additional civil suits." She paused. "Easton, one of those horses, Windchaser, was insured for two million dollars as a racehorse. That insurance won't cover her value now that she can't race. You're looking at significant financial liability on top of criminal charges."
The words should have scared me. Should have sent panic through my system. But I was numb.
"How much?" I asked.
"For what?"
"To make this go away. Restitution. Whatever the owner wants."
Sunny's expression softened into something like pity. "Money won't fix this. You can pay for the damages, sure. Medical bills, lost earnings, rehabilitation costs for four horses over the next year, but we're talking close to three million dollars. The criminal charges are up to the district attorney, and with your recent history…" She trailed off.
Three incidents this season and we weren't even at the midpoint. The assault on the reporter hours ago. And now this.
"The Shadow Wolves have already released a statement," Sunny continued. "They're suspending you indefinitely pending the outcome of the legal proceedings. Your agent has been fielding calls all night, and sponsors are backing out. ESPN wants a comment. So does every major sports outlet in the country."
Trending again. But this time, no defending me. No way to spin this into something sympathetic.
"What do I do?" The words came out small, broken.
"Right now? You sit here until your arraignment. Then you go home, and you stay there. No driving. No statements to the press. No anything without running it by me first." She gathered her papers. "And Easton? Start thinking about what you're going to say to the judge. Because this time, sorry isn't going to cut it."
She left, and I was alone again with the ghosts of my choices.
Finally, my father's voice fell silent, leaving only the deafening roar of my shame.
