Chapter 47
“You were right, and I was wrong,” I say deadpan.
“Told you so,” Izzy gloats, sticking her tongue out at me. I reach out pinchy fingers trying to grab it but she’s too quick.
I nearly had a mental breakdown as we drove away from the apartment. There was no way in hell a four-day lakeside vacation was a good idea two weeks before graduation.
But as usual, my husband knows me better than I know myself. I desperately needed the break. I’ve worked so hard for so many years, the thought of messing up now is terrifying.
Not to mention everything I’ve worked for may be for nothing—or the first step of many I wasn’t prepared for.
I shake the negative thoughts from my head and focus on the girls’ conversation.
“You seriously killed it, Izzy. The library theme is on point. Book lovers from all over the world would pay big money to stay at the library lake house,” Livy praises.
Izzy blushes under the attention, but she deserves every ounce of pride because she created a true destination.
The lake house couldn’t be more than a thousand square feet. The exterior felt like we were entering a fairy tale like Hansel and Gretel—the cutest woodsy cottage. When the foliage blooms in spring, it’ll be ethereal.
Walking inside transports us to a glimmering fae library.
Imposing wooden bookshelves line every available inch of the walls, expertly staged with enough books to appear full, but not so many to be cluttered.
Twinkling fairy lights weave in and out of the space, casting a peaceful glow over the rainbow of spines on the shelves.
Complete with a small rolling ladder in the living space, the library lake house is perfection.
“I accept this as apology for not being in on the elopement master plan,” Livy winks at me, “this is way better than back-to-back flights within twelve hours.”
Izzy, Reid, and CJ really made generous sacrifices to be there for our wedding and help make everything possible. I’m eternally grateful that the people I love helped Connor pull off the surprise of the century.
Four days are spent luxuriating in the serenity of the cottage, surrounded on three sides by trees that kiss the sky, and a pristine frozen lake. I’m going to beg Connor to bring me back someday in the warmer weather.
“Thank you for kidnapping me, I didn’t realize how burnt out I was. Connor was right, I’m so close to finishing, and now I can go into my final session and advisor meeting refreshed,” I say on a sigh. He’s perfect.
“Do you need help getting upstairs?” Izzy asks as Livy parks in front of my building.
“No, you get back to your husband, and Livy, you get back to whoever you’re currently terrorizing,” I joke.
Livy’s face goes white, but she recovers quickly. How long do she and James think they can keep their tryst a secret?
Back in the apartment, I find my phone charged on the kitchen counter with a text.
Studmuffin: Welcome home, beautiful wife. One of the mares is foaling and Reid asked me to stay overnight to monitor her. I’ve got my phone on me, otherwise I’ll call in the morning. I love you!
I’m disappointed not to see him; I’d kill for one of his hugs. But I’m proud of him for taking his new job seriously and being Reid’s right-hand man.
Me: Okay baby, let me know if you need me to bring you anything. Thank you for the trip, I really needed it. I love you!
I spend the rest of the evening washing my trip laundry. Connor kept the place spotless while I was gone. It’s like he hasn’t been home in four days. It’s sweet he tidied up for me.
Just in case he’s sneaking some sleep between checks, I don’t call him before bed. I’m sure he’ll call when he can.
“Alright, Ty, you ready to try again?” Tanya asks the hulking military veteran.
We’re in the larger pen on her property for the trust-building workshop today. I’m thrilled we have nine veterans from a wide demographic.
Eight of the nine have met Biscuit, Ty outright declined, so Tanya’s giving him another opportunity before the session wraps for the day.
Instead of directly addressing Ty, she speaks to the group.
“Biscuit doesn’t care what you do or don’t say. He doesn’t know your history, what you’ve seen or done. Biscuit cares if you’re calm. Now that sounds impossible, right? PTSD is a real bitch, and we ain’t tryin’ to climb that mountain today.
“All we’re doin’ today is familiarizing you with the pen and our buddy Biscuit. He feels what you feel and will mirror it back to you. Even if you think you’re perfectly fine, Biscuit’s body language will tell the truth about what’s goin’ on in your mind and your body.”
She winks at me before kindly tilting her head to the side asking Ty if he’d like to try.
Ty nods once, jaw tight and arms crossed. I have to focus inwards because my anxiety’s ramping up anticipating what’s going to happen between the horse and the veteran.
Biscuit huffs and shakes his head. Ty stops walking and looks at Tanya like What the fuck am I supposed to do? She simply smiles at Ty encouraging him forward.
Ty’s agitated and I’m proud he’s trying at all.
Cold wind passes through the valley, everyone’s hair ruffled by the current.
It lifts the brim of Ty’s baseball cap, nearly blowing it away but Ty holds it on his head.
The momentary distraction is enough that Ty’s shoulders have lowered, his arms are no longer crossed, his jaw relaxed, and his stance is looser.
Biscuit flicks an ear but is otherwise unperturbed. Ty tenses and takes a few large steps towards Biscuit, causing the horse to shake his head and retreat a step. Wheels are turning in Ty’s head as he watches his own emotions play out in real time through the beast.
Tanya resumes conversation with the rest of the group, giving Ty the space to try without an audience. I observe him in passing glances, careful not to make him feel like a spectacle.
Like magic, Ty and Biscuit work things out. Ty smiles at the soft velvet of Biscuit’s muzzle beneath his fingertips. Though this isn’t an active session for me, Tanya trusts me, and I’m comfortable approaching the duo.
I hand Ty an unwrapped peppermint and with a furrow of his bushy brows, he says he doesn’t want a mint.
“It’s for Biscuit,” I say with a soft smile and motion for him to offer it to the horse.
Skeptical but curious, Ty holds the sweet treat in his open palm and Biscuit greedily gobbles it up. A boisterous laugh escapes the burly man and for a moment he jolts, concerned how Biscuit will react, but his new friend is happy, and peace washes over Ty’s features.
Tanya calls it a wrap and thanks everyone for trusting Biscuit today. I love how she makes it about the horse, not the handler. In reality, the therapist or facilitator is merely the bridge between human and equine souls.
“How do you feel, darlin’? Last session under your belt, ready for the next steps?” Tanya asks, getting Biscuit untacked.
“You’ve been invaluable, Tanya. I’m so grateful for your time, you’re a wonderful teacher,” I say, her hand bats the compliment away.
“But honestly, I’m lost,” I choke out. Tanya waits for me to gather myself.
“I’m not sure getting a master’s degree is right for me. But if I don’t, I can’t be an equine therapist, and everything I’ve worked for is for nothing.” I pluck at a loose thread on my jacket.
“Well, ain’t that the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.” I snap back at Tanya’s harsh comment.
“It ain’t all or nothin’ darlin’. You can help a hell of a lot of people with the education you’ve got. Correct me if I’m wrong, but it’s the horses you love working with, not an unbridled passion for clinical psychology?”
Even the term clinical psychology makes me cringe.
“Right. But that doesn’t help me. It just means this isn’t the career path for me.” Tears sting my eyes, and I brush them away with my sleeve, not bothering to hide my emotions.
“Girl, there you go bein’ stupid again,” Tanya bites out.
“How many people have you helped these past few months? How many times have you facilitated moments of true healing? We need both, darlin’,” she says.
I’m beyond confused and growing embarrassed at her ribbing. “Both what?”
“Therapists and specialists. Folks licensed to provide therapy and seasoned equine facilitators who understand the horses. Ain’t one path to healing, it’s a team approach.”
“I don’t need a license? I can still work with the horses to help people?” I ask, afraid to know the answer. It sounds like what she’s saying, but I don’t want to get my hopes up.
“You could march your little fanny into your boss’s office right now and tell him you’re ready to build an equine assisted learning program and offer services for team-building, school programs, wellness retreats, communication—hell, anything that doesn’t directly treat mental health conditions.
“Can’t call it equine therapy, ‘cause it ain’t.
If you want to get some legitimacy behind your program, there’s several equine assisted learning certification programs you can finish in no time at all, with your degree under your belt.
Hire a licensed equine therapist if your workshop requires it, but otherwise, this is all you, darlin’,” she says, simple as pie.
“I’ve got another session comin’ in an hour, so I need to get on it, but you call me if you ever need anything. I’ll work with Reid and your advisor on any paperwork or approvals they need, alright? You take care, you hear?”
And with that, I’m left with my future laid in front of me like a yellow brick road.
“Hell yea!” Connor says, lifting me in the air, his huge hands circling my waist. I wrap my legs around his middle and bury my face in his neck.
“All my evaluations are signed and approved…I get to graduate!” I wiggle in his arms.
“I’m so fucking proud of you!” Connor spins us in circles until he’s so dizzy, he slides us down one of the stall doors to the hay strewn floor, me still tightly wrapped around him.
“When’s the graduation ceremony?” he asks, massaging my hips and thighs.