hold on - bishop briggs
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CORDELIA BREATHED IN, hands grasped onto the edges of the saddle. She looked at the tall animal in front of her, debating whether to use the aid of the mounting block, her impatience beating the former suggestion into simply pulled herself up onto the back of the horse. The mare stood happily as the shorter girl got comfortable in her seat, slipping her feet into the stirrups with a last glance into the office where all the paperwork sat, waiting for her attention.
It could wait. The blonde had reached the limit of small print that she could handle, having to analyse every piece of writing for a clause that may tie her into a situation.
For a moment, it was as though the mare knew Cordelia's feelings, a soft drilling of her lips echoing between the trees before the two of them took a start to their journey.
The small yard was long behind in a few seconds as the horse led her to the end of the deserted street in Barcelona's deficit of countryside. Left would be towards the small beach in her town, and the young girl briefly considered how nice a canter along the sand would be in the sunrise. Her legs took her right, knowing that the beach would mean civilisation. To the right was nothing but grass, trees and imminent clarity - the only things she wholeheartedly wanted to immerse herself into.
Feet digging gently into the animal's side, Cordelia brought the horse to a quicker pace, pushing her feet into the stirrups as they began the winding course into the forest.
Shadows casting on the ground from the sunrise behind were her only company other than the horse she rode. Had she not been accustomed to this ride, the shapes they created may have spooked her. An angry face. A dog-like creature. A figure that so closely reflected the grim reaper that she had to heighten the horses speed further so that the shadow twisted and turned into something friendly.
As they rode in a canter along the flat path, the mare - Lady - rising to every challenge in the twists and turns of the rode, the sun rose further until it was at a certain forty-five degree angle. It conveyed a slight warmth, but the morning air was still full of wind, wishing her hair into her face. She resonated with the animal that sounded in the distance in a reaction to the breeze.
Lady seemed unfazed, hooves picking up in that three count rhythm which felt so smooth under Cordelia's body. They approached the next bend, this more winding than the others, the wind rushing through their ears encouraging them on. But as they whipped around the corner, the engine of a car shot by, doing way more than the thirty miles an hour speed limit, inevitably causing the mare to rear in shock and terror.
Cordelia cursed loudly, struggling to calm the animal from where she sat above.
The engine to the car had either disappeared or stopped, but the young girl didn't care to look as she focused on steadying her horse. It was a useless effort. Lady bucked and reared and flailed around until her rider was clinging on for dear life around the mare's neck; bum barely on the saddle and feet no longer in the saddle.
She saw no other way for her to escape this than to let go and accept her fate of falling to the ground, but her luck prevailed as a figure approached the animal, shushing her drills and grabbing tightly ahold of the reins.
It took a moment longer for the horse to fully calm, and another after that for Cordelia to regain her balance before she could look at the stranger. Her heart was racing and vision blurred, adrenaline high as the sound of her own pulse rang through her ears. The girl clenched her eyes shut tightly in a desperate attempt to rescue her sight.
"Ay dios mio!" A voice resonated, and the blonde felt her stomach twist at the recognisable tone. She hadn't considered for a second any of her family would actually care to come to see her. "You must be more careful!"
Cordelia felt ill. "Geri - are you kidding me? You came around that corner like a bat out of hell!"
Shaking her head, the young Spaniard climbed down from her perch, looking properly at her cousin her towered over her now she didn't have the added height.
Glancing down the road, his car was parked on a swerve, the driver's door open. Of course it would have been Gerard.
Gerard didn't care for her reprimand, and Cordelia hated that. He would never listen to her because she was younger than him. Her family had never listened to her; all because she was young.
Cordelia began to walk, a quicker pace as she tugged the mare behind her. Her cousin was forced to walk alongside her, knowing she wasn't going to cave and speak to him that easily. The one thing she failed to consider was that this was Gerard Piqué: he was not going to give up without a fight.
"Chiquita," he started, his term of endearment not being as well received as it used to be "you can't keep ignoring us." The Spaniard increased his pace, cutting in front of the girl so that she was forced to stop walking, Lady's grunt of unhappiness mimicking her owner's frown. "We're hurting too."
With a unimpressed huff, Cordelia moved her shoulder into the horse's, pushing her to the side and circling around her cousin to continue walking down the road.
It seemed that Gerard had been defeated, his body language screaming that he didn't see the point in attempting to get his cousin to come around. He couldn't give up - he could picture his Aunt's features in his brain; how could he surrender?
"Have you even thought about César? About Sasha, Milan? About me or Marc or my Mamà? She was her sister, Cordelia!"
He shook his head harshly, not failing to notice how the blonde had stopped walking.
To an outsider, you would have never paired the two as relations. Cordelia had a beautiful blonde to her hair with darker roots that augmented the colour. Even their heights were so drastically different, for Gerard was over a foot taller than his younger family member. But had you seen their mothers you would understand where the differences stemmed from.
Monsterrat and Giovanna Bernabeu looked nothing alike. From hair colour to subtleties in skin tone, the two varied to the extent you may have never considered them to be just four years apart.
When Cordelia didn't turn around, the footballer took pity on her. Despite staring at her back, he could sense the tears rolling down her cheeks, and the thought of upsetting her pierced him straight through the heart.
"Cordy, I know it's your way of dealing with it. I just wish you wouldn't shut us out."
She had been defeated; Gerard knew as he walked up behind the girl. For the first time in a year, Cordelia let someone hug her. She let someone hold her, and the second Gerard's skin touched her own, she snapped.
His arms engulfed her small frame, spinning the girl's body around so that she could press her face into his chest. Cordelia gripped onto his shirt, a classic red colour she was sure would show her tears. Her heart hurt, she was wrong and she understood that, but nothing could reverse the pain she had caused, nor the pain she felt.
Gerard's hand moved the back of her head, gently resting on her hair to silently tell her he was sorry. The touch conveyed more love than she had allowed anyone to give her in almost three hundred and sixty-five days, and it was the love that meant the most.
"I'm sorry." She sobbed into his chest "I'm so sorry."
The Catalan footballer didn't say a word after that, he held her until she was ready to pull away. The two were grateful that the area was quiet and no one had attempted to drive down the road.
Cordelia eventually stood back, grateful for her decision to not wear mascara that morning.
Lady had begun to graze the grass at the side of the rode, bounds calmer than she had been the prior fifteen minutes. The horse paid little attention to the two, except for when she heard her owner sniffle, giving a glance and a whirr in their direction to show some acknowledgement.
Gerard took her face in his palms "I love you. We all love you." He sighed quietly, kissing her forehead "Sasha and Milan ask about their Auntie Delia all the time."
A chuckle laced with sadness slipped through Cordelia's lips. She had missed so much of her nephews' lives, and although she struggled to see a future in which she didn't shut herself out from her family, she wanted to try.
Escaping to the minimality of the Barcelona countryside had given her a way to rid herself of all those feelings. Rid herself of the memories the city held of her mother.
Perhaps leaving her family behind wasn't a good decision, but she had never been close with the rest of them. Cordelia's best friend had forever been her mother, from the moment she was old enough to recognise the woman and form that sensitive attachment. When her father left, that relationship strengthened.
Had Giovanna been ill prior to her passing, it may have been easier to swallow, but it was so sudden that no one had the opportunity to adjust. One moment she was there, laughing with her daughter and son, and the next..
The next she was dead.
Cordelia wanted to get out. And with a passion for horses, and four of her own, the seclusion of the countryside seemed like the best place.
She had been happy there - or as happy as she could be.
Cordelia and César, her older brother by two years, had been raised as country children, living in a quieter area of their city with all types of animals. It wasn't like the responsibility had been new to her when she disappeared into the middle of nowhere. The rest of her family, however, hadn't been quiet as accustomed to that lifestyle, constantly judging Giovanna for the way she raised her kin.
Gerard, of all people, didn't understand. He was a footballer, playing for one of the top Spanish teams, his national team, and married to the most famous Latin-American singer he could find. But that didn't stop him from being the one to track his little cousin down.
Even if Cordelia couldn't see that she needed her family, Gerard knew. And he was determined to be there for the moment that she realised.
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a/n: hello! welcome to my new story - properly.
i'm actually trying to be organised for once and have a plan for what i'm writing.
updates may be regular, they may not be - i'm going to try and focus on writing as it comes as opposed to forcing out a story i'm not happy with. it's basically a constant stream of thought, lol.
vote, comment, whatever you want! i would love to hear your thoughts!
love, fay x