20. Dallas
20
DALLAS
Damn it all to hell. This woman is going to be the death of me.
Yesterday I was kissing her and nearly begging her to let me help her make new memories, ones worth sticking around for.
Today, I’m snapping at her and telling her off.
I can’t help myself when it comes to Sadie and those horses. I saw her there in the yard, so close to that horse and my brain shut down. My heart rate spiked, adrenaline shot through me and all I could see were broken bones and bruises and my life imploding.
No doubt Katie’s back to thinking I’m a raging asshole.
First for leaving Sadie with Violet today, when she’s struggling with her grief, then for losing my shit over Sadie being near a horse.
I know Katie would never intentionally put Sadie in danger, and would do everything to protect her if something went wrong. I know she loves her and doesn’t want any harm to come to her. But sometimes, all the love in the world isn’t enough to stop someone getting hurt.
And I can’t go through that kind of terror and pain again.
Even with the image of Sadie leaning on the railing, talking down to the mare in a soft, calming voice, just like the one Katie uses, playing in a loop in my mind.
I’m banging around in the shed, getting organised for planting all the native trees and shrubs on Monday while Sadie sits on the tailgate of the ute watching me.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she says, as I toss a spade onto the trailer, making it crash against the steel side. She flinches at the noise and I hate myself a little more, but she reaches out one of her tiny hands for me, so I step in closer. “Please don’t be angry at Katie.”
I sigh as she wraps her arms around my waist and rests her head against my chest. “I’m not angry with Katie, or you,” I say. “I’m sorry I reacted like that. I got scared.”
“Why?” she asks, bright blue eyes identical to my own peering up at me.
“Because sometimes horses can be scary or dangerous,” I say.
“Flynn said Aurora is more scared of us than we are of her.”
“He’s probably right about everyone but me. I’m probably more scared of her than she is of anyone else here.”
“Katie could teach you how not to be scared, like she’s teaching Aurora.” Sadie says the words, then nestles her face back into my chest, hugging me tightly.
Images assault my brain .
Ones of Katie teaching me not to be scared of horses, of her gentle hands tracing over my skin, her voice soft in my ear.
Then visions of me teaching Katie not to be scared of the life she could have here. A life she could have with me.
But for that to ever become a possibility, I need to learn some things too, and one of them is going to have to be to let go a little.
“You can watch Katie from the platform,” I say, my voice gruff. “Don’t go in the yard, and be careful you don’t spook the horse.”
Sadie breaks away from our hug and looks up at me, excitement already in her eyes. “I can?”
“You can.” I nod.
“Thank you, Daddy.” She gives me another tight squeeze before leaping off the ute tailgate and bounding from the shed.
“I’ll apologise to Katie after she’s done,” I murmur, but Sadie is long gone. I can see her across the driveway, slowly climbing back onto the platform, watching carefully that she isn’t spooking the horse.
Once she’s safely up, I turn back to my work, studying what I’ve already loaded onto the trailer and trying to remember what else we need to take out with us.
As I load more supplies, I think about all the things Katie has told me in the time I’ve known her.
I think about how much she loves Olivia and Violet and Flynn and this farm, how much she loves my daughter, and how good she is at her job. I think about the contentment that radiates from her when she’s out on the land, or rescuing orphaned lambs, or working with terrified horses.
Katie belongs here, with the people she loves, and the ones who love her in return.
I’m going to make it my mission to show her that, whether I get to be one of the people she loves or not.
By the time I’ve finished loading the trailer, I have a vague plan outlined in my head. Sadie is still on the platform, gazing raptly down into the yard, so I assume Katie is still there, working with Aurora.
Sadie spots me when I reach the edge of the platform and reach up to pull myself up. She presses her finger to her lips, eyes wide with awe, then points into the yard.
Katie is beside the horse, whose coat now shines instead of appearing fuzzy and dull, like it did when she arrived. Katie’s wearing a helmet, and has the lead rope looped over the horse’s neck. There’s a wooden box is on the ground next to where they stand.
Katie steps onto the box, all the while talking to Aurora in her usual low tone. She leans across the horse and when she doesn’t skitter, she leans further across.
Soon she’s draped over the horse’s back and all Aurora does is turn her head to sniff at Katie’s legs.
Katie slides back down onto the box, rewarding Aurora with a hearty rub along her neck.
The next time Katie tries, she slips a leg over the horse’s back and in a flash, is sitting astride her.
I suck in a breath, anxiety clawing at my throat. This horse was virtually wild when she arrived here mere weeks ago and now Katie’s sitting on her with no saddle or bridle in sight .
But she’s absolutely beaming, giving the horse more pats and encouragement.
Sadie squeezes my hand. I glance down at her and realise she’s trying so hard to contain her excitement over this huge milestone. “She did it,” Sadie breathes, the awe and admiration in her voice unmissable.
Aurora is totally relaxed, standing in the middle of the yard, Katie on her back.
Until a bird swoops past her head.
The horse tosses its head and skitters sideways. Katie grabs for her mane, trying not to slip off the spooked horse. The rope slides across Aurora’s neck, the trailing end loosely wrapping around her foreleg and that’s all it takes for her to lose any cool she had. She spins violently and Katie doesn’t stand a chance.
“Katie!” Sadie yelps as Katie goes flying through the air.
“Stay here,” I tell Sadie, wrenching my hand free from her terrified grip. I jump the railings and land on the packed dirt of the yard.
Aurora has shot to the far side, the rope already untangled from her leg. She stands against the railing, head down, panting hard, but no longer freaking out.
I turn for Katie, who’s lying in the dirt. Unmoving.
“Katie,” I race towards her, falling to my knees at her side.
She groans. “Mother fucker,” she mutters. “This ground is too hard.” She rolls over so she’s flat on her back, a grimace on her face as she stares up at me. “That’s going to fucking hurt.”
“Are you okay?” I gasp the words out between panicked breaths. “Katie, are you okay?” My hands are hovering in the air over her body. I want to touch her, to feel every inch of her and make sure she’s okay, but at the same time, I’m too scared to touch her in case I make it worse.
“I’m fine,” she says with a groan.
“Where does it hurt? Is anything broken? Can you get up?”
“Hey, cowboy,” she says, reaching up with one hand to rest it against my cheek. “I’m fine. Nothing’s broken, just a little bruised.”
“Are you sure?” The feel of her palm against my face is calming my breathing, but it’s still coming in short, sharp pants.
She reaches for my hand with her free arm, wincing slightly as she uses it to pull herself to sitting. We end up way too close together, her mouth mere inches from mine and I have to fight everything in me to stop myself eliminating that gap and pressing my lips to hers. I ease back instead and her hand slips from my face.
“I’m fine, I promise. Not my first fall, won’t be my last.”
“That doesn’t help,” I say as I grit my teeth and try to force my breath to steady.
She gives me a half-hearted smile and a shrug, which causes another wince. “Is Aurora okay?”
I nod. “Yeah, I think so. I was more worried about you.”
She raises an eyebrow at that. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“And here I was thinking you were going to bollock me for being reckless or something.”
“Oh, that’s definitely coming. What the hell were you thinking?”
“I was thinking I was doing my job. I was thinking Aurora was doing fabulously and was ready for the next step. ”
“What about having someone here to keep an eye on you?” I remove my cap and run my hand through my hair
“You’re right here,” she snaps, gesturing between us. “I can’t have a spotter every time I work with an animal, but I’m also not stupid. I wouldn’t have done it if you weren’t here.”
I exhale heavily and push up to my feet. I extend a hand and help to pull her up too. Another flicker of pain crosses her features but I manage to not ask if she’s okay, again.
“I’m sorry,” I say instead.
She blinks at me, then raises a hand and presses it against my forehead. “You feeling okay? Or am I hearing things?”
I roll my eyes and she grins. “I overreacted, okay? About Sadie and about you just now.” I scuff a boot in the dirt. “I couldn’t handle it if either of you got hurt.”
Katie reaches out and wraps her fingers around my forearm. “Thank you. I appreciate the apology. I promise I’m not being reckless, especially with Sadie.”
“I know you’re not. Thank you for looking after her.”
She shoots me a smile. “I’ll hang out with your kid any time, cowboy. She’s awesome.” She tilts her head towards the horse. “Better get back to this one and make sure she’s okay.”
“Alright. I’m pretty much done around here, so I can get Sadie out of your hair for the afternoon.”
“Do you mind hanging around for another ten minutes or so?”
“Yeah, no worries. Why?”
“Because I need a spotter.” She turns towards the horse and shoots me a cheeky grin over her shoulder. “The boss keeps accusing me of being reckless and I want to prove him wrong. ”
I shake my head and laugh, then scale the railings to stand next to Sadie.
“Is she okay?” Sadie asks, her expression filled with concern.
“She’s absolutely fine,” I reassure her.
A few minutes later, Katie is back astride Aurora, her grin wide and confident as she glances over at us.
Sadie waves. I can’t because I’m too busy gripping the fence rail, digging my fingernails into the wood.
But as Katie slides off the horse, on purpose this time, I relax and the hope that’s been smothered by panic and fear while watching her work with the horse revives itself.
The hope that maybe one day she’ll think I’m as awesome as she thinks my daughter is.