The One That Got Away
A Novel
Karina Halle
Copyright © 2020 by Karina Halle
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Design: Hang Le Designs
Edited by: Laura Helseth
For Nina
Contents
Prologue
I. Lisbon, Portugal
1. Ruby
2. Luciano
3. Ruby
4. Luciano
5. Ruby
6. Luciano
7. Luciano
8. Ruby
9. Luciano
10. Ruby
11. Luciano
II. Lisbon, Portugal
12. Luciano
13. Ruby
14. Ruby
15. Luciano
16. Ruby
17. Luciano
III. Madrid, Spain
18. Luciano
19. Luciano
20. Ruby
21. Luciano
22. Ruby
23. Luciano
IV. Madeira, Portugal
24. Ruby
Epilogue
What to read next
Connect with the author
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Karina Halle
“Look for the highest flyin' girl, that's Ruby
And if you wait your turn you'll see Ruby fall”
“See Ruby Fall” Johnny Cash
Prologue
Ruby
Texas - Thirteen Years Ago
I take great pleasure in doing things I shouldn’t do.
To be more precise, if someone tells me not to do something, some deviant part of my brain gets activated, and all I can think about is doing that very thing.
I suppose there’s nothing unique about it. After all, rebels and deviants and anarchists all stem from the same place, the urge to see what happens when you don’t do what you’re told. History has been made and lives forever altered because someone broke the rules and crossed a line, just to see what would happen.
As for me, my rebellion is slight—I’m going horseback riding.
I’m currently in the passenger seat of my best friend Julie’s car. Her car is old, a Ford Explorer from the mid-nineties with a CD player that doesn’t work, chip crumbs worked into the creases on the seats, and the smell of stale cigarettes, but it’s dependable and can handle the road up to her family’s ranch in Texas Hill Country.
It’s a five-hour drive from where we both live in Houston, but it feels like no time at all. It never does. I’ve been coming up to Julie’s grandparent’s ranch since we first became friends in the third grade. Back then, we would pass the time pointing out horses and cows, or playing the license plate game, or we were wrapped up in silence as we read our Saddle Club Books or worked on booklets of puzzles, the kind with invisible ink.
Now, we listen to Snow Patrol or Gnarls Barkley at full-blast, Julie yelling the lyrics while I just lip-synch, because my singing voice is awful. Or we talk about school. And boys…and by boys, I mean sex. Julie is always going on about sex, probably because she has her boyfriend James, and I, well, I have no one at the moment. I really thought my first year at university would be full of flings and one-night stands at keg parties but, so far, that hasn’t happened. Maybe because I’m on a sports scholarship and part of me knows I don’t need any distractions. Maybe because being an athlete means a lot of guys stay away, except douchey losers.
Turns out there are a lot of douchey losers out there.
I should be studying all weekend, as should Julie. She’s lucky because even though she lives in H-town, she gets to live on campus. I still live with my dad and he watches me like a hawk. But I didn’t quite lie when I told him I was spending the weekend with her, I just didn’t tell him we were going to the ranch.
He would have never let that happen.
Back in the day, soccer wasn’t the only hobby I was thrust into. My absentee father (he’s a pilot, which meant I rarely saw him, and still rarely do) had to raise me alone after my mother was sent to prison, and so he was looking for something to keep me entertained and occupied all day while he came to grips with having a child to look after.
A child I still don’t think he ever wanted.
As a result, I was in both soccer and horseback riding, all the time. Put these thick-ass thighs of mine to good use. Fell in love with both sports and they occupied my every living second.
Unfortunately, when it came time for my scholarship and acceptance into the NCAA and University of Houston, I had to give riding up. The chance for injury is too high, and since soccer is my bread and butter, I can’t afford to lose my time on the team.
Not that horseback riding is the only thing I’m not allowed to do. Basically any risky activities that could damage my legs is off-limits.
But like I said, when I’m told I can’t do something or can’t have something, the more I want to do it.
The more I want to have it.
Besides, it’s nearly been a full year since I last was even near a horse. It’s been torture for me since they’d been a part of my life for so long. So I asked Julie if we could go this weekend, just for a quick, easy ride and she said yes. We haven’t seen each other as much as we used to (I think James is more the problem, though she says it’s because soccer takes up all my time), so it’s a good excuse to bond and all that.
It’s not long before Julie is pulling the Explorer off the road just past the one-horse town of Segovia and we’re heading up the winding road through the hills. There’s been a load of rain this spring, turning everything into a muddy brown puddle. Luckily, the forecast for today is some sun and clouds and I can see blue skies peeking through the low grey.
“When we came here for dinner at the end of January,” Julie says as we round a hairpin turn, mud sloshing over the tires, “there was about four inches of snow on the ground. This beast could barely make it up here before the tires started sliding.”
“Snow,” I repeat. I
