And in the e-mail chain, a message from Kara, saying how hysterical it was.
Layne had yanked the computer plug out of the wall.
And then she’d run to the bathroom to throw up.
The horse sidestepped away from the brush, and Layne snapped back to the present. She’d been pressing too hard.
She abandoned the currycomb for a bristle brush, flicking the dirt and loose hairs into the aisle, making the animal’s red coat truly shine.
A knock sounded against the wood planks at the end of the aisle, and she jumped, then placed a hand on her horse’s shoulder to steady him when he snorted. No one ever came out this early. It was barely six in the morning.
A figure stood at the other end of the barn, in the wide doorway, backed by sunshine, so she couldn’t make out who it was.
She set down the brush. “Hello?” she called. “Can I help you?”
“Layne?”
Her step faltered and then the clouds shifted, just a little, enough so she could recognize Gabriel standing at the end of the barn.
It sent her heart dancing with a skip and a flutter. She hadn’t heard from him since Saturday, of course, because she’d practically been on house arrest. Really, she hadn’t been sure how she’d face him, after the things her father had said.
But now, seeing him here, she almost fell over her own feet trying to get down the aisle. He was wearing running shoes again. Shorts and a dark hoodie. His face was a bit flushed, his eyes dark with the sun at his back.
It wasn’t just that he was here. He’d run. How many miles had he said? Four?
But then she realized he wasn’t coming toward her. He wasn’t smiling. He was just standing there, that tense, inscrutable expression on his face.
She stopped short, trying to get her breath and heartbeat to settle into a steady rhythm. She stared up at him, wondering if he hated her now, if her father’s words had ruined everything, if she’d be starting school today without a single ally. Or maybe it was those e-mails.
Maybe he’d seen. Maybe he’d reconsidered.
She was a freak.
An outcast.
Only now, she wasn’t hidden. Her secrets were out there, for the whole world to see.
For a horrifying moment, she worried she was going to throw up again.
And then she did something worse.
She started sobbing.
Huge, choking sobs that made her shoulders shake and her body tremble. Her hands were over her eyes, and her legs couldn’t carry her weight on top of this onslaught of emotion.
Then his hands caught her shoulders, drawing her in against his chest. “Layne. Layne, please.”
“They put it all over the Internet. I knew . . . I knew it would be bad ” She choked again.
“I’m sorry.” She felt his breath on her hair. “Layne, I’m sorry.”
“Even Kara . . . Kara was emailing with them.”
“Your friend is a bitch. And she doesn’t deserve you.”
“She was my only friend.”
“No. She wasn’t.”
Her hiccupping breaths abated enough for her to look up at him, but he didn’t let her go. His arms were around her back.
Strong, supportive, doing the job her knees just couldn’t. He smelled like sweat and sunshine and the woods, and she loved it.
She pressed her face against his shoulder. “I was worried you hated me.”
“Then we have that in common.”
Confused, she lifted her head. His eyes were close, blue sparked with sunlight.
“I was worried you hated me,” he said. “After what your father said ”
“That was my fault.”
“No.” His voice hardened. “That was his fault.” He paused to brush a strand of hair from her forehead.
“I don’t hate you,” she whispered.
“You sure?” There was no relief in his eyes, just wary exhaustion. “You wouldn’t be alone.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing. I’m being stupid. It’s been a long weekend.” His hands were stroking along her back.
She gave a choked laugh; it sounded strangled. “Tell me about it.”
Gabriel paused, and now he seemed hesitant. “I was worried you wouldn’t want to see me.”
“Are you kidding?” She looked up at him. “You’re the only person I want to see right now.”
He leaned in, his expression softer now, more sure. “So crying when you see me is a good thing. Got it.”
She punched him in the shoulder. “I can’t believe you ran all the way here.”
“I told Hunter I’d run a marathon with him next month.” He paused. “So I’ll need to do lots of running in the morning.”
She picked up on the wry note in his voice. “Funny how I do lots of riding in the morning.”
“That’s what I figured.” He looked up, past her. “Is it always this deserted?”
“Just me and the horses. Plenty of privacy.” She flushed, realizing how that sounded. “I mean ”
His hands found her waist, hard through the thin material of her jacket. “I know exactly what you mean.”
She sucked in a breath, but then he was kissing her.
When his lips touched hers, it was like lighting a match: a quick flare of heat, a burst of light, and then a slow burn. Her body melted into his, letting him support her again. His hands slid under the edge of her jacket, and even though there was a turtleneck there, she froze anyway.
Layne had yanked the computer plug out of the wall.
And then she’d run to the bathroom to throw up.
The horse sidestepped away from the brush, and Layne snapped back to the present. She’d been pressing too hard.
She abandoned the currycomb for a bristle brush, flicking the dirt and loose hairs into the aisle, making the animal’s red coat truly shine.
A knock sounded against the wood planks at the end of the aisle, and she jumped, then placed a hand on her horse’s shoulder to steady him when he snorted. No one ever came out this early. It was barely six in the morning.
A figure stood at the other end of the barn, in the wide doorway, backed by sunshine, so she couldn’t make out who it was.
She set down the brush. “Hello?” she called. “Can I help you?”
“Layne?”
Her step faltered and then the clouds shifted, just a little, enough so she could recognize Gabriel standing at the end of the barn.
It sent her heart dancing with a skip and a flutter. She hadn’t heard from him since Saturday, of course, because she’d practically been on house arrest. Really, she hadn’t been sure how she’d face him, after the things her father had said.
But now, seeing him here, she almost fell over her own feet trying to get down the aisle. He was wearing running shoes again. Shorts and a dark hoodie. His face was a bit flushed, his eyes dark with the sun at his back.
It wasn’t just that he was here. He’d run. How many miles had he said? Four?
But then she realized he wasn’t coming toward her. He wasn’t smiling. He was just standing there, that tense, inscrutable expression on his face.
She stopped short, trying to get her breath and heartbeat to settle into a steady rhythm. She stared up at him, wondering if he hated her now, if her father’s words had ruined everything, if she’d be starting school today without a single ally. Or maybe it was those e-mails.
Maybe he’d seen. Maybe he’d reconsidered.
She was a freak.
An outcast.
Only now, she wasn’t hidden. Her secrets were out there, for the whole world to see.
For a horrifying moment, she worried she was going to throw up again.
And then she did something worse.
She started sobbing.
Huge, choking sobs that made her shoulders shake and her body tremble. Her hands were over her eyes, and her legs couldn’t carry her weight on top of this onslaught of emotion.
Then his hands caught her shoulders, drawing her in against his chest. “Layne. Layne, please.”
“They put it all over the Internet. I knew . . . I knew it would be bad ” She choked again.
“I’m sorry.” She felt his breath on her hair. “Layne, I’m sorry.”
“Even Kara . . . Kara was emailing with them.”
“Your friend is a bitch. And she doesn’t deserve you.”
“She was my only friend.”
“No. She wasn’t.”
Her hiccupping breaths abated enough for her to look up at him, but he didn’t let her go. His arms were around her back.
Strong, supportive, doing the job her knees just couldn’t. He smelled like sweat and sunshine and the woods, and she loved it.
She pressed her face against his shoulder. “I was worried you hated me.”
“Then we have that in common.”
Confused, she lifted her head. His eyes were close, blue sparked with sunlight.
“I was worried you hated me,” he said. “After what your father said ”
“That was my fault.”
“No.” His voice hardened. “That was his fault.” He paused to brush a strand of hair from her forehead.
“I don’t hate you,” she whispered.
“You sure?” There was no relief in his eyes, just wary exhaustion. “You wouldn’t be alone.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing. I’m being stupid. It’s been a long weekend.” His hands were stroking along her back.
She gave a choked laugh; it sounded strangled. “Tell me about it.”
Gabriel paused, and now he seemed hesitant. “I was worried you wouldn’t want to see me.”
“Are you kidding?” She looked up at him. “You’re the only person I want to see right now.”
He leaned in, his expression softer now, more sure. “So crying when you see me is a good thing. Got it.”
She punched him in the shoulder. “I can’t believe you ran all the way here.”
“I told Hunter I’d run a marathon with him next month.” He paused. “So I’ll need to do lots of running in the morning.”
She picked up on the wry note in his voice. “Funny how I do lots of riding in the morning.”
“That’s what I figured.” He looked up, past her. “Is it always this deserted?”
“Just me and the horses. Plenty of privacy.” She flushed, realizing how that sounded. “I mean ”
His hands found her waist, hard through the thin material of her jacket. “I know exactly what you mean.”
She sucked in a breath, but then he was kissing her.
When his lips touched hers, it was like lighting a match: a quick flare of heat, a burst of light, and then a slow burn. Her body melted into his, letting him support her again. His hands slid under the edge of her jacket, and even though there was a turtleneck there, she froze anyway.
