Page 39 of Holding Hope

Melody pointed to the horse I’d been avoiding since my first visit to the Deity House.

“Has she always been this way?” I asked, fidgeting with the sugar cube Melody had given me. She said it was to show the horses I came bearing gifts—friendship in the form of sweets.

Melody shrugged. “Clarke rescued her from a slaughterhouse when she was nineteen. I think all that time being abused made her a bit grouchy.”

I looked at the horse with newfound sympathy. “So, Clarke rescues horses too?”

What didn’t this girl do?

Melody grinned, mischief in her eyes. “Oh yeah. She’s a real saint. Horses are her favorite animal, so naturally she was bound to save one.”

I tentatively held my hand out to Hades, an all-black Arabian who looked like he’d walked straight out of Tartarus. Melody told me he’d been a rescue too—all the show ponies were—and when he first arrived at King & Co., he broke free and ran up the side of a mountain. It took both Mr. King and Colton to bring him back, but it was Clarke who finally broke him.

“She saves horses, shoots guns, sings, performs—what can’t your sister do?” I laughed softly as Hades’ whiskers tickled my palm. Despite his name and intimidating size, he was one of the gentlest horses I’d met.

“What’s the deal with you two anyway?” Melody asked bluntly.

My back stiffened. “What has she told you?”

Melody grabbed a brush from the wall. I picked one too, trying to look casual.

“Clarke never tells me anything about her love life. Or lack of one. She became full of secrets after the convention.” Melody’s voice dropped. “I think something bad happened out there. I want to ask her, but she shuts down every time.”

Across Athena’s back, Melody’s eyes met mine. “Did you see or hear anything at the convention that might’ve caused this? She wasn’t like this before. I don’t know how to help her.”

My stomach plummeted. Melody’s lower lip wobbled.

Jesus fuck.

I turned back to Hades, brushing his coat in slow, steady strokes. How was I supposed to look this girl in the eye and tell her I was the reason her sister had locked herself away for months?

She idolized me. Looked up to me. Was I supposed to shatter that?

Would it be selfish to lie to her? To protect her image of me—and protect myself?

“No-no,” I lied, shaking my head. “Your sister and I hardly crossed paths.”

Technically true. Before that night, Clarke and I didn’t cross paths.

But I’d always been watching her.

Still, the guilt gnawed at me.

Melody sniffed. “Thank God. I know you would never hurt her.”

I forced a laugh. “Oh yeah? Why do you think that?”

She shrugged. “You like her, don’t you?”

“What?” My voice cracked. Thank God her back was turned so she couldn’t see my face. “I do not like your sister.”

“Sure you do,” she said simply. “You keep doing that.”

“Doing what?” I followed her down the hall as she handed out sweets to the horses.

“Saying ‘your sister’ instead of Clarke. Like you’re scared to say her name. Or like it’s something special.”

I hadn’t even noticed. But thinking back… yeah. I’d done it a lot.