When the race is about to start, it’s no surprise that I’m already rooting for Highland Runner. I’m almost as invested in him as I am Rags. I feel like they’re both mine, my projects, my winners. My validation.

The gun goes off and the gates open. The race is on. I can’t imagine being any more tense if my own horse was running. I feel like every muscle in my body is tight, on edge. And when Runner crosses the finish line a full head ahead of the next closest horse, I’m on my feet raising all hell before I can even think twice.

“Dude, calm down. You act like that’s your horse out there,” Rusty says from beside me. “Are you forgetting that’s the competition?”

I can’t stop smiling. “No, I’m not forgetting. But this win is proof that I can do it, that I know what the hell I’m talking about. They all doubted me, but now they see.” In my head, Cami’s face on the beach at Currituck swims by. She didn’t doubt me. I don’t think she ever really did. “I can pick a winner, Rusty.” I turn to him and grab both his arms. I have the ridiculous urge to hug him and slap him on the back. I don’t, but in my excitement, I do thump his chest with my fist a couple times. I can’t help it. “Whooo! Holy shit, I can actually pick the winners!”

I’m relieved. And excited. And relieved to be excited. That’s been markedly absent since Cami. I’m so caught up in it, I pay little attention to the people around me as we make our way toward the Winner’s Circle. I have to congratulate Sooty. And maybe let Sooty congratulate me. That might be pretty cool. More than any of that, though, I want to look Jack Hines in the eye, even if it’s from a distance, and let him see that I know. He needs to see that I know I was right. And that he was wrong.

The crowd gets denser the closer I get to the circle. Luckily I’m tall, so I can see above the majority of heads between me and the people I’m looking for.

I spot Sooty first. He’s standing there like a proud father. Beside him is Jack Hines. His arm is over Sooty’s shoulders like they’re the best of friends. I snicker. I doubt Jack is anybody’s friend. Jack looks out for Jack and nobody else. Except maybe Cami. And even that I’m not so sure of. He seems more concerned with her making a good match than just being happy.

I keep my gaze trained on him until he looks my way. His expression changes almost imperceptibly when our eyes meet. It could be my imagination, but I don’t think so. It tells me all I need to know.

Jack Hines will never think I’m good enough, no matter the proof or the reward. Jack Hines will never approve of me—for his daughter, for his horses, for his respect. Jack Hines will always see my father when he looks at me. Jack Hines will always be distrustful and superior, hard to please and snobby.

But he’s the father of the person I’m pretty sure I can’t live without, the person I know I don’t want to live without. So where does that leave me?

Maybe I should approach him, try to talk to him. Maybe that could be my way back into Cami’s good graces.

I’m debating the best way to handle the situation, the best way to handle him when I see a flash of red move behind Jack. It’s a color I see everywhere and nowhere, a color that haunts my thoughts all day and my dreams all night.

Instantly, Jack is forgotten when he turns and pulls his daughter in between him and Sooty. She looks amazing in a dark purple shirt that brings out that hint of violet in her eyes. Her hair is pulled up in a sexy way with a few pieces waving around her face and neck. Makes me want to get her alone somewhere and run my fingers through it. Mess it up the fun way.

She turns her head to speak to someone and I look behind her. It’s that douche of a boyfriend I thought she’d dumped. Brent.

My stomach and every last drop of hope I had plummets through the pavement.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE - Cami

Brent is asking me something, but I can’t hear him over the crowd. I’ve wished a thousand times Daddy had at least had the balls and the decency to tell me he’d invited him. Not that it matters now. I’m stuck with him trying to be all attentive and touchy-feely. It’s driving me crazy.

Finally, when I feel his hand at my waist as he tries to get my attention, I turn to address him.

“What is it, Brent?”

I hate my snippy tone, but he’s pushing all my buttons for some reason. Probably because he’s not Trick, which he can’t help. But still…

His smile doesn’t falter. “I just got a call and I have to head back. Why don’t you ride back with me?”

I turn away from him, swallowing my frustration. I start to answer him, but my response dies on my lips when my eyes collide with the pale green ones that haunt my every waking minute. And many of my non-waking ones, too.

It’s Trick.

My heart flounders in my chest and I can’t breathe for just a second as he watches me. A thousand scenarios run through my head, most of them worthy of a made-for-television movie or at the very least a soda commercial. They all involve us running into each other’s arms in some way, shape or form.

But then his expression darkens, as if he’s not very happy to see me at all, and my dreamy visions drift away like smoke on the wind.

His lips thin and he turns and walks away. He doesn’t acknowledge me in any other way. He doesn’t bother with any kind of social nicety. He just gives me a dirty look and leaves.

I feel nauseous. And hopeless. And alone. Deeply alone. The kind of alone that says I will never find someone to take his place. That I will die missing him, wanting him, mourning him. And now I know there’s nothing I can do about it. His mother was right. There was no misunderstanding. Trick washed his hands of me when he left my house that day. All this time, I’ve been holding on to a dream, to an idea that doesn’t exist. I don’t think it ever did. I made much more of our relationship than he did. I was drowning in him, in us and he was…treading water until he started to swim again. Until he started to swim away. From me.

Through tear-filled eyes, I watch the back of Trick’s head disappear into the crowd. Daddy leans his head down to speak into my ear. “Don’t forget you’re in the spotlight.”

Point taken.

I blink quickly to clear my blurry vision and I smile brightly for all those who are watching. I wait until all the camera bulbs have flashed and all the commotion has run its course and then I make my excuses. I push my way through the crush of bodies and make my way to Brent’s car as fast as I can. I have to get out of here. I don’t know how much longer I can contain the volcano of misery that’s churning just beneath the surface. It’s only a matter of time before I explode and then melt away.

Taking my phone out, I text my father to let him know I’ll be riding home with Brent. I know he’ll be very happy about that little tidbit and it irks me. Almost as an afterthought, I text Brent to let him know I’m waiting at the car.

Within a couple minutes, I see him heading toward me. He’s smiling. A smug smile. Probably a lot like the one Daddy’s wearing. I don’t have to see him to know it’s there. I know my father very well.

When Brent reaches me, he hits the button to unlock the doors and I climb inside. He turns to me to speak and I just hold up my hand. I don’t even look at him.

“I can’t do this right now. Just drive, Brent. Please.”

I close my eyes and lean my head back, hoping the gesture will speak volumes and put an end to further conversation. And it does. But I can still sense his displeasure. It just so happens that, at the moment, I don’t give a rat’s ass.

********

After having to chase Brent off when I get home, all I can think about is what was, what is and what will never be.

The selfish mistakes of my mother. The cold reaction of my father. The things they hid from me and how it ruined my life with Trick. The time I’ve wasted listening to the people I thought I could trust, people I didn’t really know at all. And, of course, the future I’ll never have with the man I love.

That eats at me more than anything—the loss of Trick. The rest I can forgive. Forget. Move on from. But not that. Not Trick. He’s my sticking point.

I roam aimlessly, restlessly through the house. Drogheda must be out and Mom is still at the club. Or somewhere. Maybe hitting up another hottie for some afternoon delight. Who knows? So it’s just me. And my thoughts. And all the things I can’t fix and can’t get rid of.

On my way out of my father’s office, I pass the small bar stuffed in the corner of the room. There is a half full bottle of Patron on the first lacquered shelf. Trick’s favorite.

I wonder if that would count as some of the hair of the dog that bit me?

Taking down the bottle and a lead crystal tumbler, I pour myself a drink. Just tequila. Nothing else. I take a sip. It burns all the way down. Just like I want it to. I hope it burns away thought and hope and pain and regret and…everything. And leaves nothing behind but impenetrable scars.

I finish the glass and have another. And another. Until my head is too fuzzy to think straight. But even still, it’s not too fuzzy to think of Trick.

I’m sitting in the chair behind his desk, on my fourth or possibly fifth glass of tequila, when my father walks in.

“There’s the as**ole who’s tried to control my entire life. And then ended up ruining it. Happy to see you, Daddy!”

He stops in the doorway and narrows his eyes on me. I struggle to my feet and sway so much I have to grab on to the edge of the desk to remain upright.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asks.

“Having a drink. Because I can. And there’s nothing you can do about it. I’m old enough to make my own decisions. I don’t have to listen to the great Jack Hines anymore.”

Although he controls it perfectly, I see his temper flare. Only those who know him well would be able to tell he’s getting angry. “As long as you live under my roof, young lady—”

“Oh, stop! I don’t want to hear your threats. You’ve done enough damage already. You’re so cold and heartless, you ran your wife into another man’s arms. Isn’t that enough? Can’t you just leave me alone? Let me find happiness? Does everything have to be your way? Under your control? Live up to your specifications, your expectations? Because that will never happen, Daddy. No one in your life will ever be good enough. But that’s not true for the rest of us.”

“Cami, what are you talking about?”

It infuriates me that my eyes start to water. Tears are always just beneath the surface. At least they have been since Trick left. “Trick, Daddy. You are the one who ran him off. First because you were so hard on him and then because you kept something so important from me. I made the terrible mistake of defending you and Mom. I never thought in a million years something like that could be true and me not know about it. I blamed him, Daddy! I blamed him! I practically called him a liar! And now he’s gone and he’s never coming back.”

Saying the words out loud is like throwing gasoline on a match. Every delusion I’d had, every last bit of hope I’d harbored goes up in flames. And I’m on fire. My chest, my head, my soul—everything hurts from my skin in. I can’t stand to be inside my own head for one more second.

I run from the room, desperate to get away—from memories, from people, from the inevitable. I pull out my cell phone and dial Jenna’s number. She answers on the first ring. She’s laughing.

“Cami!” she says exuberantly.

“Come and get me.”

“What?”

“Come and get me.”

She giggles. “I can’t do that. Why don’t you come here?”

“I can’t drive, Jenna. Now come and get me.”

She sobers somewhat. At least her voice does. “Seriously, Cam, I can’t drive either. I’ve been drinking all day. Is something wrong?”

I start crying. I can’t help it. It’s like my last bastion of hope for sympathy and distraction just disappeared. “I…I…” I’m crying so hard now I can’t get the words out.

“Sit tight, Cami. We’ll be there in ten minutes.”

I don’t ask questions. I’m just relieved that she’s working out something. “Okay.”

She hangs up and I go out to sit by the pool and wait. I see Trick there, grinning at me as he takes off his clothes. So I get up and walk. Toward the stable. I tell myself on the way down there not to go, that it will only make things worse. But I’m a glutton for punishment, apparently. If I’m going to wallow in Trick, I might as well do it up right.

I go straight to Lucky’s stall. His head is just tall enough to clear the top rail. I stroke his velvety nose. And I bawl.

My breath is coming in hiccups and I can barely see. I’m letting it all pour out, everything I have left.

My body is shaking so badly I can’t stand, so I let my knees fold and I crumble at the foot of the stall. It’s there that Sooty finds me.

He puts one leathery hand on my shoulder and asks, “What’s wrong, darlin’?”

I shake my head. I’m crying too hard to talk. He squats down beside me and puts his arm around me. I lean over against him and cry all the harder. If only I had a father who acted like this, who cared like this and who showed it like this, maybe I wouldn’t be in this position.

I’m sitting in the dirty stable floor soaking Sooty’s shirt when Jenna finds me. She rushes to my side.

“Ohmigod, Cami, are you okay?”

Her eyes are darting back and forth between Sooty and me. It would have been laughable if I weren’t so miserable.

“Please just get me out of here,” I plead.