Chapter 3

He talked as he reached out to touch my face.

I turned my head away.

Tristan withdrew his hand, a little sheepish, and switched topics.

"Right, the parent-teacher conference at Howie's preschool is the day after tomorrow. Don't forget to go."

I looked at him.

"It's a parent-child activity. The teacher said fathers have to be there too."

He frowned, already pulling out his phone to check his schedule.

"I've got something the day after tomorrow, can't get out of it. Just explain to the teacher, and next time, next time I'll definitely—"

"Last month you turned down the group's general meeting to go to Leah's daughter's parent-teacher conference." I cut him off.

Tristan's finger froze above the screen.

"That day you told me you were away on business. You were actually sitting in the preschool's little auditorium, watching her daughter perform onstage."

He stared for a second, then shot to his feet, brows knotting together.

"You're checking up on me? Hester, what's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm only stating facts."

"How is that the same thing?" His voice climbed. "Carina doesn't have a father. If I didn't go either, how humiliating would that be for her?"

"Howie's different. He has you and me. What's the harm in missing one? Why do you insist on comparing him to a child with no father?"

He paused, as if he'd found his footing, and his tone turned even more self-righteous.

"Is it really Howie who wants me there, or you looking to pick a fight?"

I said nothing, just lifted my head and stared into his eyes.

The air stiffened for a moment.

Tristan's gaze flickered, then slid away, and his voice softened.

"Honey, I really can't get out of it this time. I'll make it up to you both."

"After the conference the day after tomorrow, I'll take you and Howie for a big dinner. Haven't you always wanted to go to that revolving restaurant? Once I get through this busy stretch, I'll take you out somewhere."

I nodded, then turned and went to the study, using sorting papers as an excuse.

...

Saturday morning, Tristan actually offered, for once, to take me to the horse ranch.

The drive was forty minutes. I pushed open the door to the ranch lounge and stopped short.

Leah was sitting under a sun umbrella, legs crossed, sipping an iced coffee.

She saw me and lifted a hand, giving it a little wave. A diamond ring on her ring finger caught the sunlight, sharp in my eyes.

"Hester's here too."

She greeted me with a smile.

I turned to look at Tristan.

He avoided my eyes and bent down to fuss with the protective gear.

"Leah said she'd never been to a ranch, so it worked out to come together. More people, more fun."

I said nothing, only quietly clenched my fist.

I picked out a chestnut horse and swung up.

Most of the way around the track, the horse suddenly bolted out of control, and I was thrown hard to one side.

"Tristan—"

I screamed his name in terror.

But no one answered.

He was crouched in the rest area, head bent, carefully adjusting the fit of Leah's knee braces.

Leah said something, and he tilted his face up and smiled, his hand still resting on her knee.

The horse charged around the bend. I clenched my teeth and hauled on the reins for all I was worth, and then I went flying off its back.

The pain spread from my spine to my fingertips. I couldn't move, and my vision kept going black in waves.

I don't know how long it was before Tristan came hurrying over, his face covered in sweat, asking in a rush,

"How are you? Where are you hurt? Can you move?"

He reached out to help me up.

I dodged him.

"Honey," his voice went tight, "I was just checking Leah's equipment. It was her first time at a ranch, and as her boss I had to make sure everything was right, I didn't mean to—"

Lying there on the ground, I curled the corner of my mouth and let out a small laugh.

There was a time when the thing he feared most was me getting hurt.

Every time we came to the ranch, he checked every strap with his own hands, tied and retied my knee braces, wouldn't rest until he'd pressed the gloves into my palms himself.

He used to say, one more cut on your body is one more cut on my heart.

When had all his attention gone to someone else.

"Honey, I really didn't mean it. Don't read too much into it—"

I pushed away the hand he reached out again, looked into his eyes, and kept my voice calm.

"Whatever you say, that's how it is."

Tristan stared for a second, then let out a long breath, and finally broke into an easy smile.

"Honey, I knew you'd understand."

He stood up, took out his phone to call emergency services, his tone turning light, as if he'd set down some heavy burden.