Chapter 98 Garrett
Garrett
There was only one thing keeping me from freaking out right now. Well, two. Actually—three. I'll be damned. Who would've thought?
First, my beautiful, sexy lion was right there, riding like he owned the place in those tight pants that should honestly be illegal with the way they hugged his ass.
Second, Trisha wasn’t allowed anywhere near the arena.
And third, my parents and I were leaving tomorrow in completely opposite directions, which alone almost made this whole thing worth it.
The relief sitting in my chest was enough to dull everything else—the pressure of the exam, the tension crawling under my skin, the fact that my parents were currently sitting in the fucking first row, two meters away from my face, my mother watching everything like she was personally evaluating my existence. Thank God Olivia was between them, with her contagious enthusiasm and cheerleading skills. Her support made it bearable.
One evening only, to temporary freedom.
Every year, during Christmas week, my parents disappeared to some exclusive, overpriced retreat where people like them got together to get spoiled rotten, while the staff, alone with a crew of professional designers and decorators, turned our house into some ridiculous Christmas fairytale for the guests that mattered—investors, politicians, business partners, anyone important enough to impress. Which meant no one stayed at the house. Not even us. Temporary freedom, but I’d take it.
“After you return from this trip,” my mother’s voice cut cleanly through my thoughts, sharp and precise like everything about her, “I expect nothing less than perfect conduct.”
I didn’t even look at her. “Don’t worry. I’ll try not to jump on the couches while the president’s there.”
Silence followed, the dangerous kind that usually meant I had about two seconds before she decided to remind me who I belonged to.
“I am not joking, Garrett.”
“I gathered that,” I muttered.
Her gaze didn’t leave me. I could feel it without turning my head. “There will be important people present. You will represent this family properly.”
“I always do,” I said, because technically, I did. Just not in the way she wanted.
“And while you are in Canada,” she continued, her tone lowering just enough to make it worse, “I expect no incidents. No scandals. No embarrassments.”
I clenched my jaw. “Yes, Mother.”
“And most importantly,” she added, her voice turning colder, “you will stay away from Aitor. And from that rotten boy.”
Aslan.
My teeth ground together hard enough to hurt. “Yes, Mother.”
She held my gaze for a second longer, like she was trying to decide whether I meant it, and I made sure she got absolutely nothing. Eventually, she looked away, satisfied or bored—I didn’t care which.
I exhaled slowly, forcing my shoulders to stay relaxed even as my mind went straight to the one thing I’d been trying not to think about. Aslan wasn’t going. I’d found out through James, just two days ago—no warning, no chance to prepare for it.
A whole week without seeing him sounded like a nightmare I hadn’t signed up for.
It felt wrong, like something was missing before it had even started.
I knew we hadn’t ended things well, and I’d caused him a goddamn meltdown. I hated myself for that, but I was determined to take anything I could get now—friendship, stolen glances, a rejection from him here and there—and if I had to spend the next semester proving myself to him, then I’d be damned if I didn’t give it everything I had.
As long as I could stay close.
So yeah, leaving without him was going to suck.
And fuck, I felt bad for him too. Stuck here. Alone. While the rest of us disappeared into whatever version of chaos awaited in Canada.
Which meant this—this right here—was all I had. These last few minutes. Even if it was under my mother’s watchful eye and surrounded by four-legged death traps that clearly had a personal issue with me.
My gaze drifted back to the field, locking on him again, and just like that, everything else stopped mattering.
By the time the exam officially started, the arena had filled with more people than usual. Parents, sponsors, faculty—everyone pretending this was just another academic evaluation and not a full-on performance.
I caught a glimpse of my mom speaking with the trainer, her posture sharp, controlled, completely in her element. Even from a distance, I could tell what she was doing—reinforcing expectations, making sure everyone understood exactly what she had invested in this program.
In me.
She didn’t need me to pass.
She needed me to stand above everyone else.
I almost smiled.
Yeah… she was in for a surprise.
I made my way to the stables, going straight to Lucero. He lifted his head the second he saw me, calm, steady, predictable—everything I needed right now. I ran a hand down his neck, grounding myself in the familiarity, grabbing a brush and taking my time with him longer than necessary.
No one was officially assigned a horse, but everyone knew how this worked. The trainer had rotated us during our classes, depending on the exercise, pushing for versatility, control, adaptability.
Still, he knew damn well Lucero was my best match. And this was our time to shine. Especially me, the founder's son.
So I stayed close. Reminding him...
When we were called out, we lined up at the edge of the arena, horses shifting under us, tension running through the group like electricity. The structure was simple: controlled rounds first, then a light gallop, and finally the jump.
One exercise at a time. One rider at a time.
Easy.... On paper.
The first rounds went smoothly. Precision, posture, control. I got Lucero early, just like I’d planned, and everything felt exactly the way it should. Clean. Controlled. Predictable.
Safe.
Across the field, Aslan moved like he belonged there. Every turn, every adjustment, every subtle command—it was all effortless. Watching him ride was… distracting, to say the least.
Then came the gallop.... And the horse switch.
Fuck. What?
I was sure I'd be able to keep my usual horse during the entire exam.
The trainer introduced me again, and my new horse. I got one I didn’t know well—nervous, reactive, testing me from the moment I took the reins. For a split second, my grip tightened, instinct kicking in, but I forced myself to breathe, to assert control, to show it.
And I did.
Not perfect, not like Lucero, but enough. Enough to hold my own. Enough to keep the trainer’s attention in the right direction.
I breathed, still shaking, and praying to get my Lucero back for the final part.
The jump.
The arena shifted again, quieter this time, the anticipation settling heavy in the air. One by one, riders went through it, clearing the obstacle with varying degrees of success. Some clean, some messy, some barely holding it together.
Aslan’s turn came.
I held my breath as he performed the jump, and of course he nailed it.
Perfect form, perfect timing, like gravity itself had decided to cooperate with him. The landing was smooth, controlled, effortless.
I was jealous as hell, but so fucking proud of him! My lion…
I exhaled slowly, rolling my shoulders back, replaying the advice he’d given me before, the way he’d broken it down, step by step.
I had this.
I moved toward my horse, ready to take my position—
“Garrett.”
I stopped at the trainer’s voice. I turned and saw him gesture to my right.
“Tempest.”
For a second, I thought I’d misheard.
“Sir…?” I said, brows pulling together.
The trainer smiled, already addressing the audience instead of me. “This is Tempest, one of our newest acquisitions. A purebred—an exceptional horse recently added to our program thanks to Mrs. Helena William’s generous contribution.”
Applause followed, and I almost threw up.
My mother didn’t move. Just nodded proudly and watched.
“Sir, I muttered, please. Why—”
“Your mother would like to see you excel among the others. And I think it’s only appropriate,” the trainer continued, “to demonstrate the level of training we’ve achieved here. You should have no problem handling him.”
My stomach dropped. I looked at the horse, then back at him.
Then, slowly, I started walking because what goddamned choice did I have?
I reached for the reins, taking a deep breath.
“That’s a mistake. He shouldn’t be on that horse, sir!”
Aslan’s voice cut across the arena, sharp enough to turn heads.
My mother's included.