Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
AVA
Idoze off in Kasey’s truck on the way home from the bar.
It’s past midnight, and I’m exhausted. The next fleeting sense of awareness tells me I’m in a soft bed that smells like Kasey and a strong arm is hooking me closer to a warm, broad chest. It’s so comfortable, so right, that I immediately fall back to sleep.
The next morning, he’s gone. Again.
I pull on one of his old shirts. Again.
I find a coffee waiting for me in the kitchen. Again.
This time, the flower is purple.
I make good use of my morning by looking for OB-GYN practices within a fifteen-mile radius.
It’s something I’ve admittedly been avoiding, but now that Kasey—and Layla—know, it’s time to do the responsible thing and get back on track with appointments.
Turns out, there are half a dozen doctors open to new patients.
I research each of them and land on the one that feels like a perfect balance between sterile modern medicine and crunchy intuitiveness.
I call and set an appointment for two days from now.
After sifting through some work emails and responding to a handful of new inquiries from current clients, I decide to open the chain with the partners and reread their last email.
Braden, the youngest of them—and the most reasonable—penned a detailed list of accolades and assurances that my place with the firm is as secure as ever, and that just because I’m no longer in consideration for partner, my role with them is still deemed very valuable.
They understand my leave but hope it is only temporary and would love to welcome me back to the office as soon as I’m able to return.
I know he’s trying to be nice and soften the blow, but the words rip into me all over again, made worse by the fact that Tobias’s name seems to sneer at me from the carbon copy line.
He’s a partner now, so he’s included on communications such as this.
He gets to virtually witness the fallout of a disaster that he helped create.
It’s a slap in the face. And I’m still so angry.
I ignored the last text he sent me on the morning of the wedding, begging me to talk.
Quite frankly, I’m sort of hoping his chase will die off and I can go on with the rest of my life without ever having to speak to him again.
I know it’s technically his baby growing inside of me right now, but he made it very clear that he wanted no part of being a part of her life.
Wiping at my tired eyes, I decide to shift gears again.
For the next hour, I learn everything there is to know about Texas estate laws, temporary restraining orders, and their state precedent in land disputes.
Drafting the paperwork is easier than I anticipated, but I send it to a colleague for a second set of eyes, just in case.
I’m starting to feel a little restless alone in the cabin, so after helping myself to a long bath in Kasey’s bathroom, I pull his shirt back on along with a pair of jeans and my boots before braiding my hair out of my face and swiping on some mascara.
I noticed a couple worn hats hanging on the wall in Kasey’s closet—probably older ones he doesn’t wear anymore—and try them both on in front of a mirror before choosing the brown one.
It’s decorated with a plain leather band and feels so much like him.
The walk down toward the barns is nice. We’re deep into spring now, and the sun heats the land enough to ease it back into its purpose: plants grow, flowers bloom, and the horses out in the pasture graze, tails swishing lazily behind them.
It’s such a stark contrast to the metropolitan bustle of Miami where natural vegetation is hard to come by.
The truth is, deep down, I’ve always loved Texas—I just love my autonomy more.
Soon, the barns are in sight, and I spot Kasey in the biggest corral just outside, riding the golden mare he recently told me wasn’t allowing anyone on her.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that it’d be him she learned to trust. One of my favorite things about horses is that they don’t take more than what they need, and they don’t give in to anything that’s not real.
There’s no posturing, no trickery. They come to you when you’re in your truth so they can show you theirs.
“Ava?” I turn to find Kasey’s youngest brother, Wells, gripping a stack of boxes.
“Morning!” I give him my cheeriest smile. “Can I help with that?”
“Oh. No, it’s okay, thanks. Are you looking for Kasey? I can get him if—”
“Nope. I was actually hoping I could . . . help. With the horses, maybe? Or I could organize the barn?”
He grins. “Uh, I’m about to distribute some meds if you want to tag along? Nothing major—it’s mostly just vitamins.”
I nod. “I’d love to!”
Inside the barn, Wells shows me the binder with all the paperwork outlining who needs what.
He shows me how to fill the oral syringes with the vitamin paste, and how to sweettalk (and gaslight) the horses with a little pre-dose shot of apple sauce.
After the third horse guzzles his once-a-day like the rodeo champ he probably is, I feel like I’ve got the hang of it.
Wells must agree, because he lets me handle the rest—it’s a level of trust I don’t take lightly, one that I intend to keep earning with Kasey’s family however I can.
I get through all of the stalls in the big barn in about an hour and then fill more syringes before heading into the second.
I’m delighted to spot the golden mare tucked in the back corner, her beady, knowing little eye keeping tabs on me as I work.
Kasey must be out with a different horse now.
“You finally let him ride you, huh?” I ask her across the barn.
If she answers, I’m not sure of it. But I hope she feels a sense of accomplishment. She’s not on the list for getting vitamins—not every horse is. But I can’t resist giving her a custom shot of straight applesauce anyway, because good girls of any species should get a treat.
She’s eager for it, like she knows I wouldn’t steer her wrong.
When the syringe is empty, she chuffs out a satisfied burst of air.
I edge closer to her, reaching out to weave light fingers through her long yellow mane.
“Such a pretty girl,” I murmur softly, keeping my eyes trained on hers.
Her head dips before she winds her neck toward me, nuzzling her nose into my shoulder.
“She likes you,” Kasey says.
I nearly startle. “She’s a sweetheart,” I say back, looking over my shoulder to where he stands at the entrance of the barn, leaning against a beam like he’s been there a while. “I imagine we’re not supposed to have favorites but . . . she’s mine.”
“Of course.”
I narrow my gaze. “What do you mean ‘of course’?”
His eyes flit to the mare still nudging into my shoulder. “She bucks so fucking hard,” he says. And then looks at me again.
I shrug. “Smart girl.”
He snorts. And then his eyes rise. “You’re wearing my hat.”
“It seems we’re beginning to uncover a new and potentially toxic trait of mine.”
“Which is?”
“Pilfering. Kleptomania. Sticky fingers.”
Humor dances in his eyes. “What do you think we should do about that?”
I shrug. “Hell if I know. I’m the one with the problem.”
“Keep it.”
“I’m not sure that actually solves my impulse to loot treasure from your bedroom, but—”
“Always so fucking stubborn,” he mutters under his breath. “I’ll leave you two divas to it. Headed to the office if you need anything. Should be wrapping up soon.”
My heart clenches as he turns away. I’m not sure where the feeling comes from. “I won’t,” I call out. “But thanks!”
The crown of his hat twists as he shakes his head, marching back out into the warm afternoon sun.
I find Wells again after cleaning out the rest of the syringes and putting everything back where it came from, and ask him what I can do next.
If he’s bothered to have become responsible for showing me the ropes, he doesn’t show it.
He actually seems to enjoy it. Like maybe spending time with his older brother’s new mail-order bride seems like it might just be worth his time.
Wells explains that they feed most of the horses twice a day, and that it’s about time to prep for the second feeding.
There’s a whole separate binder for this, outlining which horses eat pellets and which eat Bermuda hay and how much.
Like before, Wells oversees for the first few stalls, watching me measure out portions into a wheelbarrow before taking them to each horse. And then he leaves me to it.
I have to admit, the work is rewarding. There’s something about getting face time with each one of them, of giving them what they need to thrive, that feels purposeful.
By the time I’m done there’s sweat beading down my temple and I’m hungry enough to be a little nauseous, but I feel content in a way I haven’t felt in weeks. Months, even.
Outside, Wells is at the fence of the closest corral, watching Rhett lead the golden mare on a long lead inside.
“I saw Kasey out with her earlier,” I say leaning against the fence.
Wells nods. “Normally we’d only pull her once a day, but since she let Kasey in the saddle, Rhett wants to see if he can push that good behavior further.”
“He wants to see if she’ll let him on her too?”
He nods again.
“Does she have a name yet?”
“Kasey started calling her Sugar a couple days ago. It’s not on any paperwork yet, but it seems to be sticking.”
My heart rockets up to my throat.
We both watch as Rhett leads her around the outer perimeter of the fence line, working her into a light trot.
I pay close attention to the way he keeps focus on her eyes and body, looking for any signals she might give him.
He talks to her too, a low murmuring that I can’t make out. It hums on the breeze.
“I can see why you guys do this,” I say.
Wells grins. “It’s not easy. Some days can be pretty bleak. But . . . yeah. Today’s a good one.”
Rhett stops the mare in the center of the corral and gives her a small, affectionate neck rub. I feel a warm hand press into the small of my back, and look up to find Kasey next to me, eyes on his brother. “Think she’ll let him on?” I ask him quietly.
His lips curve into the barest hint of a smile, but he keeps his gaze forward. I turn to watch just as Rhett tucks the toe of his boot into a stirrup. And then he’s rising, swinging a leg over the mare’s back before he drops his weight into the saddle.
I feel myself holding my breath.
The mare takes a step backward, head rising. And then another step back. Rhett clicks his tongue and gives her a light tap of his heels against her belly, and she takes off in a beautiful trot.
“She’s so strong,” I say, pride bursting through me as I watch her transition into a gallop with her head held high.
“She is,” Kasey agrees. “And so fucking beautiful.”
I turn to look at him, finding his gaze already on me.
Everything around us disappears. “Stop,” I say.
“Stop what?”
“Looking at me like that,” I whisper. It’s too much, and I’m not sure what it is about this moment that’s making me emotional but emotion clutches at me all the same. I feel exposed. Raw.
He blows out a breath. But doesn’t say anything.
We watch Rhett ease the mare back to a careful stop. Her mane is a curtain of golden light in the dipping sun. I realize Wells is no longer here, that Kasey and I are alone. “I made a doctor appointment,” I say over the silence. “It’s in a couple of days.”
Kasey looks at me. Straightens. Clutches the fence a little tighter. “Do you want me to take you?”
When I look up at him, his expression is so confident, so earnest. If he’s disappointed in me shutting the earlier moment down, he doesn’t show it. But still . . . “Kasey, I really need you to know there is no pressure here. It’s my responsibility to take care of myself, and—”
“Ava.”
“I just don’t want you to lean into something now that you might regret later, and—”
“Ava.”
“—as scary as it all is, I think that I can do this—”
“Of course you can do this,” he says, nudging into me with enough force to get me to close my damn mouth.
“You’re a cowgirl, sugar. You’ve always been a cowgirl.
And cowgirls don’t back down when the world starts bucking.
You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.
” He blows out another long breath before looking out toward the setting sun.
“It’s okay though, because now you have me around again to remind you. ”
My blood becomes effervescent. “I’m not sure I’m really a cowgirl.”
He smiles. Leans in close enough that I can smell the soap he used in the shower this morning. And says, hot against my ear, “That hat would beg to differ.”