She nods, understanding. “I’m sure that you’re right.” He stares off into space for a minute, brooding, but Fay bites her lip, unable to help herself from asking her next question. She’s in a strange mood today, feeling a little impulsive and powerful, having come out of that basement unscathed. So
The next day, I go down to the kitchen in my riding clothes and wait. And wait. I have my breakfast with Daniel, waving him off as he goes to class, and then have about five more tiny cups of espresso as I wait so me more. I’m practically buzzing when Kent finally deigns to come into the room, whi
Shrugging, I skip back down the steps and decide impulsively that if I’m denied knowledge of the storage centers above, I might as well explore those below. Without stopping to let myself think much about it – lest I chicken out – I hurry down the stairs and push through the kitchen door. I walk co
“Fay,” Kent says, clenching his mouth closed after he utters my name, apparently needing a minute to rein in his temper. That little muscle of frustration flickers in his cheek, making my little smile grow. “You’re not to come down to the basement. I was clear about this.” I give him a fake little
“I’ll follow your rules, Kent,” I say quietly, keeping my face blank. “But in exchange, I will be treated with respect in this house.” He opens his mouth to reply but I interrupt him, holding up a finger. “And,” I say, continuing my small list of demands. “I’m not going to be held here like a litt
“Good, Fay! Good!” Jerome says, his voice eager and encouraging. Kent’s trainer couldn’t come on short notice, so Jerome is putting me through some exercises on the horse. He watched me ride a bit and then told me – to my surprise – that I’m too reliant on the reins. “You hold onto them,” he had s
“Sorry,” I say, blinking at him and blushing again. “Um, can you repeat that?” “Don’t worry about it,” he says, laughing a little and holding up a hand to help me dismount. “Come on, let’s let Heathcliff get his rest.” I nod and take Jerome’s hand, swinging my right leg over Heathcliff’s withers a
“A…beach party?” I say, cocking my head to the side as I study the note. “It’s about an hour away,” Kent says, watching me closely as I read. “Friends and family, apparently.” I look up at Kent my eyebrow raised. “Did you…read my mail?” He stares at me impassively, not needing to confirm. I study