Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
IZZY
FLIC: How’s it going with Dylan this week?
IZZY: Confusing.
FLIC: Spill!
IZZY: He’s so infuriating. He still hasn’t said if he’s keeping the horses, but he bought that spooked stallion at the auction last week and has been working with him more hours than I’ve been out there.
He even skipped the second Stormhawks game on Thursday night because Fury let him approach for the first time without bolting to the other side of the paddock.
FLIC: Sounds pretty committed to me.
IZZY: So why hasn’t he said anything? I have less than two weeks left. What’s his plan?
FLIC: Have you spoken to him?
IZZY: I can’t. Things have been pretty tense since he bought the stallion. Long story.
FLIC: Is Mad doing OK?
IZZY: Loving Oakwood. Loving Dylan teaching her to play football and swimming in the lake. He promised to build her a rope swing this week.
FLIC: What a jerk.
IZZY: We’ve got one weekend left. It’s going to be hard enough for her as it is.
FLIC: Just her?
IZZY: Shut up.
My eyes fly open in the darkness. I’m wide awake in a heartbeat, unsure what’s woken me.
I reach for my phone to check the time and gather myself.
I groan. It’s 1 a.m. I have four and a half hours until my day starts.
Instantly I’m thinking about the jobs I’ve got planned, the supplies order I need to make.
I’ve got eleven days at Oakwood Ranch and I want to make sure whatever happens, there’s enough feed and hay to last for a while.
I flick on the side light, its warm glow lighting the trailer’s interior.
It’s bigger than it looks from the outside—a little oasis Madison and I have carved out for ourselves.
The bed against the far wall is neatly folded away, pulling down like a shelf when she’s here.
Just seeing it tucked out of sight makes my chest ache with longing for my daughter’s chatter.
Camp will be over soon and I’ll have her back at my side every afternoon after school.
The kitchenette is small, but it has a small table tucked into the corner and a bench to sit on. It’s not the ranch house I always dreamed of, but it’s ours. Even if I did buy it cheap at a police auction after the previous owner went to jail for tax fraud.
Cooking isn’t exactly a priority in the trailer—I stick to simple things like pasta, grilled cheese sandwiches, and vegetable soups I can make in big batches and reheat.
Or baked potatoes with all the toppings.
Most nights, I’m so tired by dinnertime, I eat on the couch at the other end of the trailer, staring at the TV but barely watching.
It’s where Madison and Flic usually gather when my friend visits, the three of us curled up with popcorn and sodas and a Disney movie.
The thought of Flic has the muscles in my shoulders tightening.
Her messages replay on a loop in my mind.
I need to ask Dylan if he’s made a decision yet.
Because Flic is right. He’s acting like a rancher who plans to stick around.
And if there’s even a chance, then I need to tell him I didn’t mean what I said in my anger after the horse auction.
I need to ask him if he’s keeping the horses, and if there’s a place here for me and Madison if he is.
It’s been a week since the rodeo auction.
Our fight has cooled to an uneasy simmer of annoyance.
I know Dylan is avoiding me as best he can.
He’s thrown himself into the ranch, taking on more every day without being asked.
He’s not disappearing into the city anymore.
No afternoons lost to watching the Stormhawks practice.
Instead, he’s spent hours in the paddocks with Fury, talking to the stallion like he expects him to answer, that quiet smile he doesn’t even realize he wears growing with every small step of progress.
And despite the tension between us, Dylan still made time for working with Mad on her football over the weekend.
Jake’s joined in too—he and Harper came to stay for a few nights, bringing that loved-up glow with them.
Buck barely left Mad’s side for the entire two days, trailing after her like her new best friend, his ears perking up every time she called his name.
The Sullivan family is loud and loving and warm in a way that has sucked Mad in. Sucked me in too, I think. But every moment of kindness they’ve shown only makes the thought of leaving harder.
I sigh, realizing I’m awake now and I might as well check on Moonlight.
She seemed restless earlier, and I put her in her stall tonight instead of leaving her in the paddock.
She’s still got a week until she’s due to foal but there was just something in the way she moved today that gave me pause, and no way will I sleep until I’ve checked on her.
I dress fast and grab my flashlight from the hook by the door before stepping outside.
The cool of the night air prickles my skin.
It’s a welcome contrast to the heat of the day and I breathe in deeply as I switch on my light and make my way toward the barn.
The second I open the door, I know something is wrong. Moonlight lets out a sharp whinny. It’s a sound I’ve heard many times before and it’s unmistakable. Moonlight is having her foal a week early. I rush forward and flick on the barn light.
In the sudden brightness, Moonlight’s stall comes into view and my breath catches.
The mare stands near the back wall, her head low and her body tense.
Her gray coat glistens with sweat. She shifts uneasily, her hind legs trembling a little.
Then she lets out another low, keening noise that makes my gut twist.
“Easy, girl,” I say, keeping my voice calm.
The air is heavy with the smell of damp hay, horse sweat, and fear, and I can’t stop my hands from shaking as I unlatch the stall door and step inside.
“We’ll get through this together.” They’re the same words the nurse said to me the night Madison was born, and for a moment I’m back in the tiny apartment Hooper rented for us in Nashville, feeling more alone than I’d ever felt in my entire life.
Hooper was out so much of the day and night—trying to get the country music scene to take him seriously, taking whatever gigs he was offered.
I was barely nineteen and terrified out of my mind at the growing swell of my belly.
I was too young to be a mom. Too scared.
Too worried I’d mess up a child’s life like I’d screwed up my own.
But then Madison arrived, and the nurse placed her in my arms, and it felt like I’d been given a piece of myself I hadn’t realized was missing until that moment.
The memory fades and I focus on Moonlight.
I’ve handled plenty of foalings alone before, but a mare’s first can be challenging, and every instinct in my body tells me this one isn’t going to be easy.
Where is Bill when I need him? My granddaddy’s experience and calm are exactly what I need right now.
But he’s not here. I’m alone. And the only person who can save Moonlight and her foal is me.
I crouch beside the mare, running my hands carefully over her belly and down her flank. I press gently, searching for the foal’s position inside the womb. I feel something, but it’s all wrong. The foal’s legs are tucked back, the head nowhere near the birth canal.
“Shit,” I whisper, pulling my phone from my pocket and opening my contacts. Camila Martinez is the best ranch vet in Colorado and we’ve worked together for years. She’s the one person I trust with these horses’ lives.
It rings three times before she answers, her voice tired. “Izzy?”
“Moonlight’s in labor,” I say by way of hello.
“That’s a week earlier than we expected.”
“The foal’s malpositioned,” I say, unable to keep the panic from creeping into my voice.
There’s a pause before Camila replies, her voice apologetic but firm. “Izzy, I’m sorry, but I’m tied up with a colic case on a yearling. I’ll get to you as soon as I can, but it’s going to be a few hours.”
“She can’t wait that long,” I cry.
“I know,” she says. “But you’ve helped me turn a foal before, Izzy. You know what to do. Keep her calm, lubricate your hands, and work gently but firmly.”
“I can’t do it,” I reply. I’m not a vet.
Camila’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “If you do nothing, you’ll lose the foal and possibly Moonlight, too. You can do this, Izzy. I know you can.”
I close my eyes, steeling myself for what’s ahead. “Please get here as soon as you can.”
“I will,” she says, and we end the call just as Moonlight unleashes a strained groan, her entire body trembling. My pulse thunders in my ears, but I force myself to take a steadying breath.
“I got you, girl,” I whisper, not sure who I’m talking to—Moonlight or myself. All I know is that I won’t let this mare die because I wasn’t thinking clearly. “Looks like it’s just you and me.”
But even as I say the words, I know they’re not true. I’m not alone. I have Dylan.
“I’ll be right back.” I sprint out of the barn. Dylan can avoid the decision about his future all he wants, but tonight, I need him. Moonlight needs him.