Chapter 20
Rory
Azing of excitement rolls through me as my eyes fly open at the sound of the alarm. I hit the button to silence it and take a look at the sleeping man next to me.
How did I get this lucky?
My heart squeezes with joy and with a little pang of fear. Everything is too good. For the last week, ever since I opened up to him, it’s been like a fairy tale.
Me and Nate. Being able to work at the barn. It’s perfect.
Too perfect, and if there’s anything life has taught me, it’s that when things are looking good, it’s just a matter of time before everything comes crashing down.
The house is quiet as I slide out from under Nate’s arm, doing my best not to wake him.
Since that first night we had sex—well, first time this decade—we’ve spent every night together in his bed.
I’m starting to love falling asleep with him curled around me, waking up with his body heat filling the bed.
But today I need to get up before he does.
I tiptoe through his bedroom and close the door as silently as I can.
Spam gives one yip from downstairs, startling me, but I make it into the bathroom across the hall without any sign of waking Nate up.
Working at the barn is everything I’ve dreamed of. Today is the earliest I’ve gotten up to head there. It’s 5:00 a.m., and I’m up and buzzing like I’ve had three cappuccinos already.
I toss my hair into a messy bun and pull on a pair of jeans and a top that can get dirty. The barn isn’t for fashion shows is what Mandy used to say, and she has a point. You’re there to do a job, not to look good.
I pull on my sneakers and clip Spam’s leash on as I leave the house. That’s the other benefit to working at the barn—Spam can come along. He relieves himself in Nate’s bushes before we get to the truck, then he sits obediently on the front seat while we drive just outside of town.
Lonesome Acres is a world unto itself. When I drive up the long dirt road that leads from the main road to the barn, I feel myself relaxing, slipping back into who I used to be. This was my happy place when I was growing up. It may still be.
The paddocks, fenced-off fields where the horses will spend parts of the day, line the driveway as I get closer. This early in the morning they’re empty, the patches of grass shining in the morning light.
A green pickup truck parked next to the barn indicates that Mandy is already here and working.
It’s identical to the one she drove a decade ago, and though I haven’t asked her yet, I’m fairly certain it’s the exact same one.
As long as a vehicle gets her from place to place and can haul a horse trailer, it’s good enough for her.
I park my truck next to hers. I sit on the tailgate while I take off my sneakers and pull on my boots.
“Ready?” I ask Spam.
I shut the tailgate, and he takes off toward the open barn door while I follow behind him.
“Morning!”
I turn as we step into the hallway of the barn to see Mandy smiling brightly, waving from the tack room. “Hi! I was so excited that I had to get here early today. What can I do?”
My very first day, I showed up at 9:00, only to find all of the horses turned out and fed, with nothing to do but muck some stalls. Mandy has continued to insist that I don’t need to come early, but the chance to be closer to the horses made me hop out of bed this morning.
She waves me toward her. “I’ve got the grain sorted, if you want to start putting their feed in their stalls. Then you can help me with turnout.”
Not much has changed in the last ten years. Mandy’s system of feeding is exactly the same, and I fall right back into my old rhythm as I move from stall to stall, dumping each bucket into a trough.
At the end of the row, my favorite girl is waiting for me.
“Hey, Starfire,” I say, putting grain in her bowl, then rubbing her head while she eats.
I give her a kiss on the neck and leave the stall.
She pokes her nose up against bars on the window, and I pet her nose before she goes back to eating.
Mandy was just starting to use Starfire for lessons when I was leaving for college. At fifteen years old now, she’ll likely be even more well behaved and trustworthy. I make a note to ask Mandy if there’s any chance I can ride at some point.
It’s been years since I was on a horse—a decade, really, since high school—and I’m sure it would take me a while to get back in shape, but I’ve missed the feeling of being on a horse, of flying across an open field on the back of a galloping mare. There’s nothing like it.
“You still in love with this girl?” Mandy asks from behind me.
“Who could forget Starfire?”
Star pushes her nose against the window, and I press my nose to hers.
I’m rewarded by a soft breath from her nostrils.
The scent of hay and alfalfa triggers a series of memories, and all of a sudden, I’m eight years old again, holding tight to the reins while Mandy leads a horse in circles while I get comfortable.
I’m fourteen, taking out my anger over a fight with my brother on a pile of manure.
I’m eighteen, crying into Starfire’s neck the morning after I told Nate we needed to break up.
Tears prick at my eyes. From the look Starfire gives me, I think she remembers that day, too.
Horses may not be the smartest creatures—I’ll be the first to admit that. If a cow gets stuck in a fence, it’ll lie down and wait for help. A horse will thrash until it’s seriously injured. And they spook at things like plastic bags and garden hoses.
But despite their questionable choices and intellect, the emotional connection you’ll find with a horse is unrivaled. They somehow just know when you need comfort.
That day that I cried into Starfire’s mane, the normally impatient horse stood still on the crossties, something I’d never seen from her, and while my head rested on her neck, she bent her head down to give me what I can only describe as a horse hug.
I blink, coming back to reality, and rub Starfire’s forehead. “She’s the best. Do you use her for lessons?”
Mandy nods, tilting her head like she can see every one of my thoughts. “I do. She’s one of the favorites. She could use some exercise, actually. Would you mind riding her after we finish up some chores?”
I’ve always known Mandy was a horse whisperer, somehow knowing what each of her horses needs at any given time, but maybe it’s more than just horses she understands.
“I’d love that.” I give Starfire a kiss on her nose and move to the next stall. “It’s been a while, though. I’m pretty rusty.”
My shoulders ache as I dump another pitchfork full of horse poop and dirty hay into the wheelbarrow.
I roll my eyes and pick up another pile. “How do these guys make so much crap?”
Mandy laughs from the stall next to me. The walls don’t go all the way to the ceiling, so even though we’re each mucking out a different stall, it’s easy to talk.
“No kidding, right? Lots of hay makes lots of shit.”
Mandy taught me the s-word when I was ten. She put up a plaque in the barn bathroom that read HORSE GIRLS KNOW SHIT: WE’VE WALKED THROUGH IT, SHOVELED IT, AND WE WON’T PUT UP WITH YOURS.
My mother was not pleased when I quoted that to her.
The thought of my mother makes my stomach lift with excitement as I wipe my brow. They were supposed to get back into town late last night.
“Mandy?” I look at the wall as though I can meet her eyes through the wooden boards.
“Yeah, kiddo?” Manure lands in her wheelbarrow with a thud.
“I haven’t seen my parents yet. They were supposed to get back to town last night.”
The pitchfork scrapes along the ground, followed by another thud. “Mmm-hmm?”
“I’ve been looking forward to seeing them, but I just don’t really know what to say to them, you know?” I scoop my own pile of manure, dump it into the pile, and survey the stall. How am I only half done? “I lost my job, I got dumped, and I’m technically homeless.”
“Hmm.” Mandy pauses at the doorway to my stall, dragging the wheelbarrow behind her. “You could just say that. It about sums it up.”
I chew on the edge of my lip.
“What are you worried about? What they’re going to say?” Mandy tilts her head.
“Kind of. Or more…what they’re going to think. Compared to Dylan, I’m so far behind in life, right?”
Mandy lets out a throaty laugh. “Can only be behind if we’re all on the same road, kiddo. This road is yours to travel, and yours alone. You’re right where you’re supposed to be.”
I lean on my pitchfork as she walks down the hallway and out of the barn to dump the waste. She’s probably right, but why is it so hard to accept that we’re all on different paths? And how do you know you’re on the right path for you, if everyone’s is different?
I scoop another load of horse droppings. Maybe I should let the excitement of seeing my parents take over and try to ignore the feelings of inadequacy.
Mandy’s words echo in my head.
You’re right where you’re supposed to be.
It can’t be that easy.
Can it?
“Did you always have this many stalls to clean?” I ask, breathless, as I pull the door to the last one shut.
Mandy laughs, her voice deep and hoarse.
“Always did, kiddo. This was what we were doing those mornings when you and Allie and the girls were at school, so things were clean when you showed up to ride in the afternoon.” She checks her watch.
“We have a couple hours before the kids start to show up for lessons. You still willing to give Starfire a little exercise?”
That’s another Mandy trick, making it seem like you’ll be doing her a favor, when in reality, it’s the other way around. I’ve been salivating to ride all day. For years, really, but since I realized my favorite horse was still here, it’s all I can think about.
But something stops me.
“I don’t actually have riding boots here,” I admit. “I have an old pair that I wore in high school that I left at my parents’ house before I left for college. They might still have them, but if not, I’m going to have to figure out where to buy some.”
Mandy looks down at her own feet. “I’d offer to let you borrow a pair, but my feet are easily two sizes bigger than yours.” She looks back up at me, an unreadable expression on her face. “Guess you only have one choice here, huh?”
Technically, there’s always another choice. I could wait, hoping that my life magically figures itself out in the next day or two, and put off seeing my parents until I have something exciting to report. But I miss them, and I’ve been dying to see them since I got back to High Lonesome.
Plus, the boots are the key to being able to ride. And just like when I was a kid, the threat of not being able to ride is a powerful motivator.
I inwardly groan at the memory.
Didn’t clean your room? No horses.
Got in trouble at school? No horses.
I’d give anything to be able to ride again, especially on Starfire. So that leaves me with the option I’m not sure I’m ready for.
“You need help with lessons?” I ask Mandy, stalling.
The reunion is tonight. I may not get to ride today, but if I have too much to do around the barn, I can figure out what I’m doing with my life before I see Mom and Dad.
You never know what can change in twenty-four hours.
Mandy’s already headed out of the barn and toward the arena, her back to me. “Not today. Put your stuff away and sweep the hallway, and then, Rory?” She looks over her shoulder. “Go see your parents.”