Page 51 of Don’t Look Down

A few minutes later, Lock comes meandering in, having kept Maximus at the same, leisurely pace. I open my mouth to tease him about it, but as he leads Maximus to the trough, he looks down and says, “That was juvenile.”

I rear back as his scolding slaps me and quickly scramble to apologize. “I’m sorry. I should’ve asked if Alice was fine to run. I was just trying to have fun.”

He swings a long leg off of Maximus and joins me on the ground. Still on even footing, I feel two feet tall in front of him. “Was the ride boring you?”

“No, not at all.”

He pulls off his helmet. A stable hand appears to our left, and he hands it off wordlessly. I unclip mine and do the same. “There were more photographers stationed on the final stretch. Hopefully the photos they caught earlier will suffice.”

Is it so bad that they would catch us racing? Having a good time?

Disappointment clouds his face, causing my shoulders to roll forward. “I’m sorry,” I repeat. “The ride was great. I didn’t mean to insult you by taking off like that or mess up the photos. As I said, I was just trying to have a little fun.”

Lock cracks his neck and deeply inhales. “It’s fine,” he finally says. “Let’s head back to have some tea, alright?”

I try to smile, to show him that it’s fine, but it feels fake. I thank the stable hands that come out to collect the horses and pet Alice one more time.

I really did enjoy the ride today. It felt like a piece of home being on her and riding around the estate.

But there’s something inside me shifting, something I couldn’t ignore once I thought of it, unlocked from the leap of faith off that cliff. I want more of that feeling. It’s creating a restless sort of energy inside my chest, my fingers, my legs.

I don’t know how to fix it.

And if I really, truly want to, or if I just know I should. I’ll be happier in the long run once it goes away and I’m back to how I was.

I just have to wait for the memory of what the free fall felt like to slip away.

I’ll be right in the head again then.

Eighteen

I’ve been stood up.

Edwin finds it amusing, and he barely contained it when he told me minutes ago that Lock’s been pulled away to “attend to other matters.”

Once again, no note. No text. No communication directly from him, to me.

I know he’s busy, but is it really that hard to let me know before I came all the way over to Caulfield Palace? It sucks feeling like an afterthought, once again, despite him seemingly having a valid reason. My heels click against the marbles floors as I trudge through the endless halls to the private, rear entrance in hopes that Annabeth didn’t leave.

I’m barely paying attention to my surroundings, so caught up in my own frustration, that I don’t notice a door fling open to my right until a hand clamps around my arm.

The cry dies in my throat when I see who’s got a hold of me.

“We need to talk.” Beau doesn’t even allow the protest on my lips to be uttered before he’s pulling me into his office and quickly shutting the door behind me.

“What makes you think I want to speak to you after you bailed on the badminton tourney? I had to do that entire day on my own while you just, what, took the day off?” I choose to direct our focus on that and very much away from what I’m truly upset about.

Because just looking at his face, his hands, remembering the feel of his breath against my neck and his fingers between my legs…

My toes want to curl in the tight confines of my heels at the memory. I carefully slip a mask of disinterest on my face, though, because I don’t want him to know I’m still thinking about it.

“I couldn’t make it for good reason.” He strides across the room in a few quick steps until he’s behind his desk.

I debate leaving and ignoring him altogether, but what good would that do? I know I’ll see him again. We’ll have to face each other sometime.

And since his brother bailed, it might as well be now.

I follow him farther into the room, sealing my decision. “And why was that?”