23. Locked Fault #2
“Only if she starts stockpiling dairy products,” Sloane deadpans.
Lucy rolls her eyes. “I’m surrounded by terrible people.” Then a slow, tentative smile spreads across her face, “Don’t get excited.”
“I’m already excited,” I admit, my heart already quickening.
She shakes her head, still smiling. “Dr. Tierney is happy with my numbers.”
My heart leaps with a surge of unadulterated hope. “That’s good, right?”
“It’s great,” she says.
I glance at Sloane, and she grins a relieved smile that mirrors my own feelings. After everything Lucy and Jensen had been through, I’ll take any positive news.
“That’s amazing,” I say, the words thick with emotion.
Lucy nods, emotion flickering across her face—hope. “Jensen’s elated, although he tries to act nonchalant about it.”
“How’d that work out for him?” I ask, a smile tugging at my lips.
“He’s started looking at baby furniture online.”
Sloane throws her head back, a loud laugh erupting from her. “Of course he did.”
“I told him we were getting ahead of ourselves.”
“And?”
“He has a spreadsheet ranking cribs by safety rating.”
Then I notice something, a question forming in my mind. “Wait. Why is Sloane still going to all these appointments with you?”
“Because she keeps following me to get a glimpse of ‘The Conception Concierge,’” she says, providing air quotes.
“My presence is providing emotional support,” Sloane says, feigning innocence.
“You invited yourself.”
“I did.”
I look at Sloane. “You’ve been going to every appointment?”
She shrugs, a faint rustle of fabric. “Most of them.”
“Why?”
“Because Jensen’s schedule is insane right now,” Lucy says, her voice quick and earnest.
That part doesn’t surprise me, the hospital basically owns his life lately. I just thought he would make an exception for these appointments.
“He rearranges when he can, but doctors refuse to schedule appointments around the lives of patients. Ridiculous if you ask me,” Sloane says, while giving Lucy’s fingers a reassuring squeeze. “Somebody should be there with you.”
Neither woman says anything, the weight of the gesture says enough.
“You know,” Sloane says, “the nurses think we’re married.”
I choke on my tea, the warm liquid catching in my throat. “What?”
“Yes, the receptionist asked me if I was Mrs. Marks.”
“You’re kidding,” I say.
“Lucy’s response was ‘actually, we’re cousins,’ and my response to that was ‘she still won’t let me redecorate her house. Marriage would’ve come with more benefits. In my defense, I answered confidently.”
“That’s the best thing I’ve heard all week,” I say.
As our laughter fades, I lean forward. “Speaking of progress, you’ll never guess who’s ready to move into your stables.”
Lucy lights up at my words. “I knew it.”
“You knew what?”
Lucy beams with a radiant smile. “You should see her with the vet—she asks a million questions. A couple days ago, she gave me a twenty-minute lecture on wound care. I think she knows more than I do now.”
Heidi has a future she’s beginning to imagine for herself, and this has become my favorite version of her. The horses seem to reach parts of her that people can’t, quieting the constant noise in her head.
As evening settles around us, I find her and Ellie sitting on the rough wooden fence outside one of the barns. I climb onto the fence beside them, the weathered wood warm beneath my palms. One of the younger horses is next to them nudging Heidi while she absentmindedly scratches his neck.
“You’ve officially become a farm kid.”
She rolls her eyes, a faint smile playing on her lips. “I don’t think a few weeks qualify.” The sound of her laugh is soft in the deepening twilight. “I do like it here.” The answer comes so quickly that I know she means it.
“I can tell.”
“My mom wanted me to be a doctor.”
I don’t interrupt, just letting her talk. Her expression softens as she keeps her eyes on the middle distance. “When she was sober, it was always the same. Medical school, good salary.” She pauses. “You’re too smart for this life.”
“Meaning her life?” I ask.
She looks at me, something catching in her expression. “Yeah,” she responds before turning back to the horse. “I just—heard it enough times that I stopped questioning whose dream it was. I know I like this though—being here on the ranch.”
“There’s no rush. You have plenty of time to figure it all out.”
“Lucy let me help when Galloping Thunder got injured last week.”
“Oh?”
Her face lights up, and the transformation is remarkable. “Yeah. When the vet was here last week, she walked me through everything she was doing.”
“What kind of injury?”
“It wasn’t serious. A cut on his leg.” She becomes animated, talking faster, her hands sketching the scene in the air.
“She showed me how to clean the cut, and explained you have to wrap the bandage from the bottom up—something about circulation. I never knew there was so much to it.”
The enthusiasm in her voice is vibrant and clear, the sound of a hidden path opening up right in front of her.
“And you liked that?”
“I loved it.” The answer is immediate, firm.
“I asked a million questions.”
“I’m sure you did.”
“I definitely did.” We both laugh, the sound resonating off the wooden beams.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about it afterward.”
“About the horse?”
“About the vet. What if I go to vet school?”
“What if you do?”
She studies my face, searching for a sign, a flicker of doubt. “You don’t think it’s stupid?”
“No.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Her face changes—something around her eyes and mouth going soft in a way I haven’t seen before. The vulnerability in her voice makes my chest ache.
“Heidi, it’s okay to change your mind. I thought I had my whole life planned out at your age, and most of it didn’t happen. What’s important is finding what feels right for you.”
I observe her as she looks out across the pasture again, toward possibilities she hadn’t considered before. “You think I can do it?”
“I think you’re smart enough.”
She smiles, a confident curve of her lips. “I know I’m smart enough.” The confidence makes me laugh.
“I think it’s worth exploring.”