Chapter 2 – Lilah
Chapter Two
PRESENT TIME
LILAH
M y hand reaches out of my covers at literally the same time the alarm rings. I turn it off and bring the phone into the bed with me, curling into a ball for a second before blinking my eyes open. Looking out of the window, I see the sun slowly creeping over the skyline. “Up and at ’em,” I encourage myself before I fall back asleep for a seven-minute snooze. I don’t waste any time, toss the covers off, and get out of bed. I slip my feet into my blush-beige slippers before walking to the bathroom. Turning on the warm water, I cup my hands under the stream, splashing the water on my face a couple of times before grabbing the white towel to dab it off. I reach for my blue brush, combing through my long brownish-blond hair, opting to braid it today since it showed that rain might come later in the day. With the rain comes the wind, and the last thing I need is my hair getting in my eyes.
After brushing my teeth, I walk to the kitchen, grab my water bottle, and fill it with ice and then water. Putting it on the counter, I grab my lunch box and place it next to it. Looking at the clock over the stove, I see it’s just a little after five fifteen. I have ten minutes to get dressed before I have to leave. Heading back to my bedroom, I make my bed quickly before going over to the closet and pulling it open.
I snatch up a pair of light blue jeans and a white T-shirt that has the Mustang Creek Ranch logo across the chest. I grab a pair of white socks before I head out of the bedroom, picking up my water and lunch before heading to the front door. I put down my stuff when I sit down on the little bench I have, grabbing my worn-in blackish-gray cowboy boots. I tuck them under the hem of the jeans before standing and closing the door behind me. Hearing the click of the lock, I walk down the two flights of stairs to the parking lot. The outside stairs are covered by a roof. I look right and left, seeing most of the apartments still dark, then beeping the truck doors open.
It takes me seven minutes to get to the barn. I spot Charlie’s house before the red barn. The lights outside of the house are on, but it looks like it’s still dark inside. My phone pings in my hand, and I look down, shocked that someone is texting me at this time. I see it’s from Sierra, and I can’t help but laugh when I read the first couple of words.
Sierra: I stayed up until ten reading and set my alarm to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to finish. I’m old enough to know better.
I shake my head.
Me: You knew this was going to happen. This always happens when you start a new book.
Sierra and I became friends when we were sixteen and joined a fan fiction group for our favorite author, Cooper Parker, who writes cozy mysteries. We would comment on the same post and then quickly started chatting in private messages. To this day, the minute Cooper Parker puts out a book, we take the day off work and read it cover to cover on FaceTime, discussing it chapter by chapter. It once took us fourteen hours, but it cemented our friendship. Even though our friendship was mostly online, she’s one of my best friends.
Putting my phone in my back pocket, I bypass the patient parking lot before heading to the back of the barn. I swing into the same spot I always have parked in since I started working here six years ago. Grabbing my stuff, I get out of the truck and see a couple of the ranch hands moving around the employee corner. It’s where we keep a little kitchen area to eat in, along with a couple of changing rooms.
“Morning,” Samuel greets me as soon as I walk into the barn. He’s wearing almost the same thing I’m wearing but with a cowboy hat on his head.
I smile over at him. “Morning, Sammy.” I call him by the nickname I gave him when he started here a year ago. “How is your day going?”
“So far, so good.” He smirks at me. “Just started the coffee.” He motions with his head toward the little kitchen area.
“Sounds good,” I say, walking toward the staff room. “I’m going to go riding first.”
“I’ll get her saddled for you.” He walks down the concrete alleyway toward the stalls.
Putting my stuff in the fridge, I walk to my desk inside the office, turning on my computer and placing my water bottle down on the desktop. I grab the baseball hat off my desk with Barnes Therapy Program across the front and put it on.
I make my way out of the back office toward the barn where the horses are kept. Walking past Emmett’s desk toward the stalls, I stop at the new girl we got a couple of weeks ago. “Morning, Rosy,” I coo to the horse I’ve nicknamed Rosy since she has little spots of pink on her muzzle, “how was your night?”
I grab the reins as I walk with her outside. When she got here two weeks ago, she refused to leave her stall. It took a full two days of me sitting in there with her and talking to her for her to trust me. “We’re going to exercise a bit today,” I say as we walk into the fenced arena we have for this reason. “Are you ready?” I ask as I mount her, and she neighs at me. “Stop being so moody. It’s a beautiful day, and we’re alive.” I lean down and rub her side. “Now, let’s go.” I start to trot with her in the circle.
I don’t think I will ever not smile when I ride in this arena. It’s so different from when I first got here as a patient seven years ago. From the outside, my wounds had healed. The bruises had gone from a nasty purple to a greenish yellow to nothing. The stitches on my head had healed, and my hair had started growing back, but the inside of my body was more broken than anyone could see. I could barely walk when I woke up from the coma three weeks after being found on the side of the road. I had multiple skull fractures, broken bones, including my jaw that was wired shut, bruises, and cuts and scrapes. I was in the hospital for a full five months before being transferred to a rehabilitation center.
Discarded like I was a piece of trash you throw out the window. A man found me in the middle of the road fully clothed and thought I was a mannequin, and then when he got closer, he thought I was a wounded animal before he stopped. He quickly pulled his car around to block anyone from coming and running me over. It was a miracle that no one did that before he found me. No one even knows how long I was lying there. I had no recollection as to how I got there. The only thing I remember was getting into the truck. Derek claimed he dropped me off at my house after we got into a bit of a fight, and he drove off without watching me walk up to the front door. He said he had no idea how I ended up the way I did. I didn’t believe a word he said and neither did anyone else, but there was nothing to prove he did it. They tried to gather as much evidence as they could, but because I didn’t remember any of it, there was nothing to charge him with. He had hired an attorney by that point, and his attorney had said I secretly got back into the bed of his truck and did it to myself.
After a whole year, he finally settled and entered an Alford plea, which meant he was guilty. However, this plea allowed him to express his innocence toward the charges. He got nine months in jail. Meanwhile, eight years later, I still have the scars to show, inside and out.
During one of my therapy sessions, my therapist recommended equine therapy. I had no idea what it was, but I thought it sounded cool, so I showed up and had my first session with one of the therapists who worked for Charlie. I felt a sense of peace when I stepped foot in here. It was hard to explain, but I felt free the second I got on the horse. Like nothing could touch me once I was on the horse. I did session after session, stretching it out for longer and longer periods. I was here sometimes thirty hours a week, volunteering to help feed the horses after finishing my sessions.
Getting a job here was a dream come true. Charlie needed someone to handle all the booking and admin stuff he didn’t want to do. He hired me on a temporary basis, thinking I would be going off to college as soon as I was “healed.” But now here I am, six years later, still working for him and taking online courses to become a therapist. I want to help others the way they helped me.
“Let’s open it up,” I urge Rosy. “Want to race?” I nudge her side a bit more. “Let’s go, girl. Let’s be free.” She moves fast, going around the fenced arena. I scoot down a bit, feeling the wind in my hair as my hat flies off my head, but I don’t stop. Instead, I focus on pushing her even more. “Come on, girl,” I urge her, the wind whipping my face, and finally, when I think she’s had enough, I stop her from going so fast as she trots.
“Why the fuck are you pushing her so hard?” I hear from the side of the fence and look over at Emmett. He is standing there with a broody face, broody but beautiful, too beautiful for his own damn good. He’s wearing dark jeans with a black shirt, and one of his booted feet is on the second rail of the fence. The baseball hat is on his head, backward, but you can see his curls on the side of his neck. His hair is a bit longer than he normally keeps it. The beard on his face is nicely trimmed, and his blue-green eyes are trained on me. “We just got her; you shouldn’t be pushing her so hard.”
“She’s good,” I assure him. “Aren’t you, girl?”
“You also know the fucking rules, Lilah.” He ignores what I just said. “You aren’t allowed to ride if no one is here.”
“Sammy is here,” I tell him, which earns me a scowl, “so technically, I’m following the rules.”
“Sammy is mucking stalls.” He stands up straight, putting his hands on his hips. “You think he would hear you if you flew off the horse and she trampled you?”
I get off the horse. “Dramatic much?” I ask as I walk to the gate of the fence. “She wouldn’t hurt me, and even you have to admit it.”
“I’ll admit nothing except you’re a pain in my ass.” He turns on his booted heel and storms back inside.
“He sounds like he’s in a great mood,” I mumble as I follow him into the barn. I think I’ve been in love with Emmett from the second I saw him come out of the barn with a horse saddled for me. He just made me feel so safe when he helped me onto the horse. It could have been that, or it could have been he secretly was a nice guy even though he put up a rough front. It could be that his laugh made you want to say something funny each and every single time. It could be a whole list of things, but one thing was for sure. My feelings would never be reciprocated. Actually, the more I fell in love with him, the more he stayed away from me. When I started working here, well, he was blatantly open that I shouldn’t be given the job. Luckily for me, I slayed this job, and they all knew it. Even he did. He just didn’t admit it.
I look over at his desk and see it’s empty, so I quickly beeline my way to Rosy’s stall, making sure she has water before I walk out toward the kitchen.
“Here,” Sammy says, handing me my hat that flew off my head before.
“Thanks.” I smile, reaching for it.
“You got me in trouble,” Sammy accuses me when I reach for my mug that says: I’m Just a Girl Who Loves Horses More Than People.
“What? How?” I ask, but I know how deep down.
“I saddled the horse for you.” He rinses out his mug before putting it in the dishwasher.
“I’m sorry,” I say, filling my mug. “Next time, I’ll saddle my own horse.”
He shakes his head. “Charlie would kick my ass if I let you do that.” He shrugs. “If you need me, I’ll be in hiding.”
I stir some milk into my coffee before I walk out of the kitchen and spot Emmett talking to Charlene, one of the new therapists who started here last month. Her blond hair flies all over the place as he gives her a smile. A smile he never sends my way unless he thinks I’m not watching him, and I say something he knows he has no comeback for.
He laughs at something she says, and it’s so apparent he’s flirting with her. My stomach gets tight as I ignore the feeling. My head is telling me I just need to get over him and move on. I avoid looking back at him, not sure I want to see anything else.
Instead, I head toward my office, pulling out the chair and sitting down, trying not to let it get to me. I open the emails to see if there have been any cancellations for the day. Then I go about filling the spots for the rest of the week. We have seven in-house therapists who work five days a week and do rotations for day versus evening. Something new we started last month.
I print the day out and make copies for each therapist who is on for the day, putting it on their clipboard. “Morning, Lilah,” Charlene says, coming into the office, “how are you?”
I turn and plaster a smile on my face. “I’m great, thank you. How are you?”
“Amazing,” she gloats. I want to hate her, but it’s not her fault that Emmett is a dickhead. She goes to her clipboard at the same time as her first patient comes in.
They leave together out the back, going toward the barn, when my phone rings. I look down and see it’s Caleb. He’s just moved to town and started his new construction company, CW Construction. “Hello.”
“Hey, beautiful,” he replies, and I smile. “How are you this morning?”
“I’m good.” I lean back in my chair, waiting to feel the butterflies from him calling me beautiful, but nothing happens. “How are you?”
“Better, now that I’m talking to you,” he says, and I look down at my boots. “I was wondering if you’re free tonight.”
“I am,” I confirm. “What did you have in mind?”
“We could go for dinner and then maybe go out to Thatcher’s?” he suggests.
I should tell him no and not lead him on, but I don’t. Instead, my mouth speaks before my head catches up. “That sounds great. What time should I be ready?”