I sit at the kitchen table long after Beau’s left. He didn’t answer me, and most of me isn’t surprised.
But there is the tiny, tiny part of me that’s hurt. He doesn’t trust me.
It’s not like it’s personal, I tell myself. Doubt he trusts anyone.
And I get that. I don’t want to, but I do. After my dad left, we took care of ourselves. No one else looked out for us, and now that Mom’s taken a turn for the worse, I take care of her—and I do it alone because I can’t rely on Dane.
I draw my knees under my chin and watch Beau through the kitchen window. He’s walking to the paddock behind the cottage, the lines of his shoulders still tight. On the other side of the fence, the chestnut gelding is trotting closer, eager for pets and treats.
I smile. Horses and women just love this man.
Beau tak
