Chapter 28
I’ve spent the entire drive to Salt Lake sniffing back tears and questioning everything.
Sappy isn’t a word I would use to describe myself, but I thought—hoped—maybe Juniper would say she loved me back. Maybe she’d ask me to stay, and even though I want to get back to racing, I would give it up to be with her.
But she didn’t say it back. She didn’t ask me to stay. And I think it has more to do with her than me, but it doesn't stop the hurt.
It’s nearing eight o’clock by the time I get settled in my motel room. Athena is at a stable for the night so she can get adequate rest, and I’ll pick her up in the morning. The drive took a bit longer than I expected because I kept stopping to make sure she was okay.
And maybe I was contemplating turning around and going back to Forget Me Not Ranch.
After shoveling a burger and fries into my mouth, I shower and toss myself on the bed. I’ve slept in my fair share of motel rooms and never had a problem falling asleep after a long day of traveling, but tonight, sleep evades me.
The gift Juniper gave me, sitting in the glove box of my truck, calls to me. I slip on my boots and grab it, tracing the neat, swooping letters of my name, lingering on the little heart above the ‘I.’ She said not to open this until I get home, but she’s not here, and I’m too impatient to wait.
I carefully unwrap the brown paper and set it aside, and I’m left with a plain white box.
My breath catches when I lift the lid and see the painting.
It’s a smaller version of the one she was painting for her mom.
The vibrant pinks, purples, and greens of the wildflowers against the backdrop of the mountains is stunning, and the ache in my chest grows.
Gingerly, I lift it out of the box to get a closer look, and another piece of paper slips out and flutters to the floor. Words catch my eye as I pick it up, reading the back.
I hope you’ll always remember the wildflowers,
and me, but in case you need a reminder, you have two.
All my love,
Juniper
I reread the word ‘love’ over and over. At least I have it written down, even if she didn’t say it back.
When I flip the card over, I nearly drop it. On it is another smaller version of a painting she’s done. The first time I saw the larger version, I ran away from her because the feelings it invoked were too much for me to handle,.
Now, looking at the watercolor depiction of a hand threaded through strands of blonde hair, the head bracketed between two thick thighs, the feelings bubble up inside me, widening the cracks in my heart.
A tear slips free, dropping onto my hand. I tip my head back and blink back the rest of them. I don’t want to ruin the beautiful picture in my hand, the only thing other than my memory I have of Juniper.
The only thing I can compare the devastated way I feel to is the time I lost Artemis, but that was a different kind of pain. Losing Artemis was debilitating, and grieving her was a long process, but even when she was alive, I knew I wouldn’t get to keep her forever.
This is like someone’s carving out my heart with a rusty blade. It won’t be so easy to get past.
There’s no cutting Juniper out of my heart, even if I tried.
My fingers itch to reach for my phone and send her a text, but I refrain. Talking to her would only increase the depth of my wound, and if I want to let it scar over, I need to keep my distance.
Even if distance is the last thing I want.
I slip the box into my backpack and vow to only look at it once a month.
Two months have passed since I arrived at Mary’s training facility. Athena is acclimating well to being in a new barn, surrounded by new horses, and she’s a natural with racing, just as I suspected.
Our first few runs were slow going while she got used to the barrels, but we’ve been getting faster. I know it’ll be a few months until we’re ready to compete, and I’m not upset about it. Athena needs time, and since I’ve been out of the game so long, I need to get in the right headspace.
A headspace that doesn’t involve thinking about my summer fling every second of the day, wondering if she’s okay.
I broke my own vow. The paintings aren’t hidden in my drawer like I originally planned.
Instead, the wildflower field is framed and standing on my nightstand, and the other one, I keep under my pillow.
When I’m not thinking about Juniper, I spend my days training Athena, helping Mary with the chores, or helping new racers begin their journey.
Seeing the joy on their faces when they make their first clover leaf is almost better than winning a competition, and seeing their progress is more fulfilling than any belt buckle I’ve ever won.
As I make my way to my small cabin after taking Athena for a ride, Mary appears by my side. She’s a petite thing, barely reaching my shoulder, with long, gray hair she usually keeps twisted in a claw clip.
Her lips are tipped in a frown, a wrinkle between her eyebrows as she loops her arm with mine. “I’m worried about you.”
“Hello to you, too. My ride was great, thanks for asking. I was just heading in to grab some lunch before evening chores.”
Mary lightly smacks my arm. “Don’t be sassy with me. I’m serious. When are you going to tell me what happened at that ranch?”
Mary’s been on my case since I arrived. I told her nothing happened, that it was a standard summer working on a ranch.
She doesn’t believe me.
She would be correct.
What am I supposed to tell her? That I found the love of my life in Copper Creek, and I had to leave her there because she doesn’t want to leave the ranch, and I wanted to travel and compete?
That if she asked me to stay, I think I would have?
Mary would think I’m ridiculous for wanting to give up racing for someone else.
I heave out a tired sigh. “Mary—”
“Don’t you ‘Mary’ me, Addison Riley. I’ve known you since you had to have help getting on a horse.
You may have everyone else fooled into thinking you don’t feel things as deeply as you do, but not me.
Your time on that ranch has you gloomier than usual, and I want to know what happened so I can help fix it. ”
As she talks, she steers me away from my cabin and heads toward her house.
The little white farmhouse with a yellow door is as familiar to me as my parents’ house, and slipping off my boots so I don’t track dirt is second nature. She guides me to the worn, chestnut table and sits me down in a chair before sliding me a plate with a ham and cheese sandwich on homemade rye.
I reach for the sandwich, my stomach grumbling in anticipation.
Mary snatches the plate back and tuts. “You can have it, but only if you tell me what the hell happened this summer.”
“That’s cruel.”
She just shrugs.
“Fine.”
Mary slides the plate back over to me, and while I eat, I tell her about Forget Me Not Ranch. I leave out the explicit bits, obviously, but I tell her everything about Juniper, and the moment I knew I was in love with her. I tell her about Oakley and the Calhouns and how at peace I felt there.
By the time I’m done with my spiel, her mouth is agape. “Why the hell did you leave?”
“She didn’t ask me to stay.”
“Well, did you offer?”
“No. I wasn’t going to invite myself to stay there. Besides, it would never work out. She’s got some hesitations about leaving the ranch, and I would never put her in a position to make her uncomfortable. I want to roam. I want to travel and race and…” I shrug.
Mary’s eyes narrow. “Is that really what you want? I know it was when you started there, but… you’re allowed to change your mind. No one’s going to judge you if you never get back to racing.”
I thought for sure she’d tell me I made a smart decision. That racing is what I’m meant to do.
“I didn’t quit racing on my own terms. I quit because I lost my horse, and now that I have Athena, I have to give it another shot. Racing was my life. I can’t just give it up.”
“The keyword in that sentence is ‘was.’ Racing was your life. It’s okay to let go of things when they’re no longer what you want. Sometimes it takes life throwing you a curveball to realize you need a change. Is racing still something you want? Or do you want to settle?”
She has a point. Even though Athena is talented, and I’m having fun training her, the pull to compete isn’t even a gentle tug. It feels like something I should do, instead of something I crave.
“I think… I think I want to do at least a few competitions. I promised Mr. Calhoun I’d invite him to a race. But… you’re right. I don’t feel the call as strongly as I did in April. I like training, and I think if you’ll let me stay, I’d like to continue to teach.”
Mary reaches across the table and pats my hand. “You know you always have a place with me, but I don’t think you’re meant to be here forever. Now, tell me about the Puffer girl’s progress.”
Two weeks later, Mary’s words are still swimming around in my brain.
Sometimes it takes life throwing you a curveball to realize you need a change.
Juniper was the curveball, and now I’m questioning everything I thought I wanted.
I thought I wanted to keep travelling the rodeo circuit, to compete and sleep in a different motel every night. I thought I wanted to continue having one-night stands and being single.
I don’t want it anymore.
I want to sleep in a bed covered in floral sheets, next to a woman who sometimes gets nightmares and jolts awake. I want to be there on her good days and bad days, to help her through her anxiety attacks and depressive episodes. The thought of being with anyone besides my sunshine makes me sick.
But she hasn’t texted. Neither have I. I don’t know if the Calhouns have a permanent spot on the ranch, and I can’t follow Juniper around all day. I need a job, something to do, and they don’t have a training facility on the ranch, so teaching is out of the question.
There’s every chance she’s moved on from our summer fling, even if deep down I hope she hasn’t. No, I don’t want her to suffer, but I’d feel better if I knew I wasn’t alone in my heartbreak.
Does she think about me as often as I think about her? Does she remember how it feels to be wrapped around each other at night? I remember every single thing about her, and my heart aches when I think about her sleepy smile or the way she used to bury her face into my shoulder in her sleep.
I’ve been invited to compete in a smaller rodeo in Idaho the first week of April, and I think it’s the perfect event to ease Athena in. The town the event is in is only five hours from Forget Me Not Ranch, so I’ve already sent an email to Sullivan to invite him to see us compete.
Even though I know she won’t, part of me hopes Juniper will show up, too.