Thankfully, the ride back to the manor was quiet. Reagan didn't bring up any conversations and it wasn't like I gave him the chance to start one. I picked up the book I had found in the carriage and began reading it while the steady rhythm of the horse's hooves filled the space between us, The book in front of me became a shield as I stared intensely it, pretending to be engrossed it even though I had already read every single words back at the castle.
I just needed something that would keep me distracted from the raging thoughts in my head.
Across from me, Reagan sat still and his presence pressed felt like a weight pressed against my ribs, a reminder of the mess we found ourselves in. Occasionally, I would feel Reagan's gaze on me, his mouth pressed together almost as if there was something he wanted to say but he refrained himself from speaking which was good enough for me. I've got nothing to say to say to him, it's not like he was willing to me anyway.
