No One's Hero (Chadwell Hearts) (8 page)

I glance at my cell phone, willing it to ring. While Lexi was in the shower earlier I took a moment to put in a call to Axel, and I’m waiting for him to call me back. Across the parking lot, a large horse trailer pulls in, loaded with bales of hay. Two men climb out of the truck’s cab, talking loudly about how hot several of the new freshman are. I roll my eyes, tuning out their posturing. As if any girls with class would give them the time of day. Then again, most of the girls I’ve seen so far don’t exactly have much class. Lexi’s miles above most of them.

Wait—what the hell am I thinking? She’s not only just a job, she hates me. Not that I can blame her. I know damn well I’m running hot and cold around her. The thing is, I honestly want to see her happy here. She looked so miserable yesterday, it awakened some primal need to protect her that goes far beyond the job. But I can’t afford feelings like that, because there may come a time when I have to choose between keeping her happy and keeping her safe. The last time I was faced with a choice like that I made the wrong one, and the girl I loved paid the ultimate price. I will not let that happen to Lexi, and if that means she has to hate me, we’ll probably both be better off for it.

I reach into my wallet and pull out the only photograph I carry, knowing it will help me focus and get my head in the game more than anything else possibly could. The edges are white and worn from frequent handling, but Nuri’s smile hasn’t dimmed in the slightest. Soon after we met she told me her name meant, ‘my fire,’ and I laughed, realizing just how true it was.
I’m sorry,
I tell her for the millionth time, wincing at the stabbing pain in my heart that always accompanies thoughts of my failure. I have to do better this time.

My phone vibrates. I tuck Nuri’s photo back into the hidden fold of my wallet, then swipe the green talk button.

Axel skips hello. “Good news and bad news.”

Isn’t there always? “Start with the bad.”

The two men are back with wheelbarrows, hard at work unloading their hay. The metal ramp clangs noisily each time they go up and down, making it difficult to hear myself think, much less hear Axel through the phone. Cursing inwardly, I take a few strides away from the front of the barn, putting some distance between me and them.

“The school is adamant that while they appreciate my donations, they will not inconvenience other students for us.”

Fan-freaking-tastic. “So the roommate from hell is there to stay?” While I can think of a few ways to push her into leaving, and Axel doesn’t mind me leaning heavily on guys, he’ll never go for strong-arming a girl. No matter how much she deserves it. Just thinking about the way Lexi’s face fell last night has my hackles raised.

“Sent from heaven above, just to make your life miserable, dude.”

“It’s not my life I’m worried about, bro. She’s a total witch to Lexi.” An understatement, but it’s not worth my time or his to relay every detail of the girl-drama that has become my life.

“Maybe she just needs a good fucking.” Axel snickers at his own joke.

“Do you kiss Tess with that mouth?”

“Every damn day.” His voice takes on a throaty edge, and I know he’s feeling blessed or some shit. The beauty of no longer having a heart is I don’t have to worry about some chick turning me into a sappy pile of goo. Thank God.
But Lexi could,
a tiny voice inside whispers before I silence it. I won’t let her, and besides, even with Nuri I wasn’t as bad as Axel is with Tess.

“So what’s the good news?” I ask, trying to get my mind back on the job.

“I found a tack shop near you that had what we need in stock, and they were more than happy to put in a rush order. She’ll have new everything by this time tomorrow.”

“Exactly like what she had before?” It’s not that I’m feeling guilty for her stuff being gone, I just don’t want to deal with emotional girl shit, and since Axel’s got a bankroll he just loves to use, replacing everything as fast as possible seems like the best option.

“Angel placed the order herself, and she and Lexi ride together all the time. It may not be exact, but it’s close enough that she should be happy.”

I doubt that. The only way she’s going to accept it at all is if I tell her she’s right, her missing stuff is my fault, so I’m replacing it. I think that girl would argue the sky wasn’t blue just for the sake of not agreeing with me, but she’ll probably enjoy seeing me humble. At least if I fake it well enough. “Good. I’ve put in a request with some of my contacts for more thorough background checks on some of the other dorm residents, but so far, the only thing of note is her missing stuff. There was a guy scoping her out last night, but it seemed like he wanted to date her rather than anything more sinister.”

Axel grunts, and I resist the urge to laugh.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on it. I didn’t catch a name, and if Lexi did, she didn’t tell me. You’ll be happy to hear she was oblivious this morning when he was checking her out again. Oh, and what does Lexi like to drink?”

“Water, I think. But seriously, put the fear of God into him if you have to.”

“Dude, you realize she’s going to date eventually, right? What’s the big deal?”

“I know that, all right? But I just can’t get the idea of her as an innocent little girl out of my head. It’s like, I don’t know, ever since I learned about what Nick did to Angel... the thought of Lexi running into a guy like that terrifies me. She already came too close for comfort with that punk last year.”

“You didn’t protect Tess, so you want to protect Lexi. I get it, but the world doesn’t work that way.” Lord do I ever get it, the need to atone. I’m drowning with it. Some days I literally feel like it’s eating my soul alive, and I don’t want that for Axel. We’ve been friends for too long.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t try. Other than the missing stuff, how’s she doing? Settling in okay?” He sounds like a nervous parent again.

“Too soon to tell. She’s eager, but moody. Handling her is like holding a lit match in a room doused in kerosene. Shit’s gonna blow; the only question is when.”

—-♥—-

L
exi

Samurai is what many refer to as ‘a lot of horse.’ We’re well into our first lesson and he still hasn’t completely settled. There’s raw power barely contained in his every stride, and I can feel it simmering beneath the surface, ready to burst free at the slightest opportunity. It’s a lot of work keeping him on task and responsive, which doesn’t give me much time to survey my fellow classmates to see how they’re doing. But even though he isn’t making it easy on me, and the unfamiliar saddle and stiff boots aren’t helping, I’m loving the challenge. This was why I came here, to grow as a rider. Samurai and I have all semester to get to know each other and once we’re more of a familiar team, I think we’ll be unstoppable. I hate to admit it, but I understand why Madison is jealous that I’m assigned to him instead of her.

I spare a brief glance across the ring, watching Madison guide a quiet gray mare through a lead change. The horse does as requested, but the movements are robotic and stiff. Her mare is older, she’s lost most of her dapples, and there’s not much spring left in her step as she plods along, doing only what’s demanded of her—nothing more, nothing less. Samurai attempts to slow to a walk, rather than the easy trot I’ve asked him for, but I keep my leg firm and give him my full attention once more.

“Don’t let him get away with that, Alexis. He’s going to test you,” Professor Blessing reminds me from the center of the ring. “Right now, he’s got you working harder than he is.” Her reprimand stings, because I thought I was doing a pretty damn good job of handling him. I resist the urge to glare at Madison. Even though I don’t think Samurai would be nearly so antsy if she hadn’t upset him earlier, I refuse to make excuses. I’ll just have to do better.

“Madison! Your legs are as sloppy as if you just fell out of a pasta press. I
know
you can do better than that.”

“But it’s not my fault! She’s all over the place, tripping over her own two feet. I don’t know why you put me on this stupid nag.”

The flippant way she blames her horse for her own shortcoming is the final straw, and I decide instantly that I hate her. So far, I’m seriously striking out. My illusions of making lots of friends at college is rapidly slipping away, and for a brief moment I’m glad Kevin is here, because at least I’m not totally alone. Then I remember all the annoying things he’s done in the short time I’ve known him, and the moment’s gone.

“A skilled rider needs to make the best of whatever mount they’re given.” Professor Blessing’s voice is clipped, and I don’t blame her. I’m not sure yet if I like her—hell, I’m not even sure if she likes me—but I think she’s wise.

“You can’t expect me to make up for a bad mount. My daddy’s going to hear about this, and I’ll be on a better mount before the end of the week.”

The only thing more shocking than her audacity is Blessing’s response. “Alexis, ride in and dismount. You too, Madison. You’re right, I shouldn’t have put you on Vandal. You and Alexis can switch.”

I’m at a complete loss for words as I ride into the center of the ring. Professor Blessing holds Samurai’s reins while I dismount, purposefully avoiding her gaze to make sure I don’t say or do something to embarrass myself. Unlike Madison, I can’t just demand and take whatever I want. And even if I could, I wouldn’t. I’m not sure if it is only Madison’s outburst that changed the professor’s mind about our mount assignments, or if my own shortcomings played a role. I’ve never felt like such a failure as a rider as I do now, having the opportunity to ride a horse like Samurai ripped away from me.

Madison dismounts and shoves her reins into my hands. “Hold her while I get my saddle off her.”

I’m sorely tempted to knock that smug smile right off her face.

Professor Blessing slides my borrowed saddle off Samurai’s back, putting it on Vandal’s instead. It might be wrong of me, but I can’t even look at my newly assigned mount. Instead, I gaze at the wall, blinking back stubborn tears.

“Do you need a leg up?” Professor Blessing asks me as Madison rides away, looking confident and poised.

I shake my head. Vandal’s a good hand—or four inches—shorter than Samurai, and I have no trouble mounting without assistance. Vandal is slighter all around, with a classic Arabian build. She moves away from my leg willingly enough, doing just as I asked without hesitation and trotting to the rail. She’s quiet, listening intently for my commands, ready to obey. And while that’s pleasant enough, she’s not Samurai.

“Don’t over-ride her, Alexis. She’s not going to need as hard of a hand as Samurai.” Professor Blessing’s reminder strikes home, and I realize I’m being far heavier on Vandal’s mouth than necessary, my reflexes tight and tense after the constant battle of wills with Samurai. “Soften your hands,” Professor Blessing snaps again.

The minutes drag by, punctuated by constant orders barked out by Professor Blessing, and I’ve never been so thankful to get off a horse in my life as I am when she finally announces that our lesson is over for the day. But as if I needed a reminder, she says she’ll see us again later in the week.

One of our other classmates—a quiet girl who I don’t think said three words during the entire lesson—points me in the direction of Vandal’s stall. It’s the last box stall, tucked away from the central bustle of the middle of the barn. It’s also slightly larger than some of the other’s. A gold plaque on the front reads:
Scandalous Vandal.

That lesson was scandalous all right. I’m still reeling, trying to understand how an instructor can let a student call the shots like that, and it’s probably a good thing Vandal stands so quietly in the cross-ties, because I’m definitely distracted. Vandal nudges my shoulder with her nose, and I absentmindedly pat her soft muzzle. When I reach up to scratch behind her ears she leans contentedly into my arm, bringing a reluctant smile to my face. It’s not her fault my mount was switched, and honestly, she
is
a nice horse.

After taking my time cleaning her bridle thoroughly and putting it and the saddle I used away, I grab my purse from the locker room and work my way out of the barn. Being in the locker room reminds me of the cut lock, and I briefly wonder if I should tell Kevin after all. It’s probably nothing, but what if it isn’t?

Madison strolls into the locker room just as I’m leaving. “I told you, you shouldn’t have messed with me. Samurai was too much of a horse for you anyway. His talent is wasted on a poor scholarship student like you.”

I’m mentally exhausted after the trying morning and I don’t even bother to summon a retort. I could tell her I didn’t touch her stuff from now until the end of the world and she’d probably never believe me. Or I could mention that earning a scholarship took skill and talent, rather than Daddy’s money. But she’s not worth my time; or at least that’s what I’m trying to tell myself. But her words have sunk through my damaged armor, leaving me feeling unworthy, like I’ll never be enough, even here where I so desperately hoped I would be. I have no idea how she knows I’m here on a scholarship, but it doesn’t matter anyway. The sound of her snide laughter chases me all the way out of the barn, pulsing on repeat in my ears. It reminds me of a bad song that’s overplayed because everyone else in the world but you likes it, and you can’t see why. The image of Madison standing with her friends, laughing, is imprinted on my mind. Why do girls like that always find their place, with friends and opportunities, while I remain alone?

I feel like my entire world, complete with all my grand expectations, has been tipped on its axis. Kevin coming with me may not have been my idea, but right now I’m grateful to have at least one person on my side. In a sea of hostile strangers, at least I know he’s on my side. Even if his mood does change as often as the tide. When I get outside the barn, I stop in front of him and lean my head against his shoulder, relieved I can finally let down my guard and acknowledge just how crappy this day has gone with someone who might care. “My lesson was awful.”