~~Damon~~
When I get to the stables, Adrian, Shantelle, and my father are already waiting.
And, as anticipated, Dad looks pissed.
He stands near the open stall door, back ramrod straight, arms crossed so tightly over his chest it looks like he’s holding himself together with sheer force of will. The only thing missing is a cigar to chomp on, and he’d look exactly like the man who used to scare the hell out of me as a kid. The scent of hay and manure clings to the air, mixing with the faint but distinct scent of horse sweat and old leather.
Adrian leans against the wooden railing of one of the stalls, a cigarette dangling from his fingers.
Shantelle stands apart from both men, one heeled boot propped on a stack of hay, arms resting on her bent knee.
“Y’all picked a shïtty place for
