120. I’m Safe
I’M SAFE
LAYTON
“Did you see that? Oh my gosh. That was— I don’t have words.” Livy is practically bouncing, though she leans heavily on one crutch.
“You can come in now,” Bright says.
Livy’s head turns to mine so quickly she gets hit with her own ponytail. Her eyes are alight. She turns away just as quickly and slides through the doors easily.
I follow and lean against the wall, doing my best to alleviate the pain that throbs in my back and hip. Livy folds easily to sit near my feet, her injured leg stretched out in front of her.
Seeing Livy experience this is better than actually watching it.
We have a new foal, a colt. My nephew points from his position on Braxton’s shoulders saying “Cote” on repeat and eating his fingers.
This isn’t his first, but it’s the first I’ve seen him interact like this, and his face is fun to watch.
Almost as much as Livy’s.
The woman at my feet experiences for the first time what I have more times than I could count, something I’ve taken for granted far too many times.
A giggle escapes her as the gangly colt stands and trips into his mother. He latches on and drinks deeply. This point is critical and somehow Pop always holds his breath until he sees nature in its glory continuing the circle of life.
“Cote.”
“Yes. That’s a colt.”
“Mine?”
I laugh, only to startle myself with the sound. I’m not the only one. My brother and sister gaze at me as does Pop. A thumb goes to his eyes, and I feel guilt for causing him so much pain.
I’ve always been a thorn in his side, and these past few weeks, he’s been gnawing at what hurts him, trying to free himself of the pain.
“Colt?” Pop calls. “Want to go see Windrunner?”
Colt flaps his arms like a bird and bounces from his seat around Braxton’s neck and practically falls into Pop’s outstretched arms as he passes.
“Windrunner?” Livy asks as she watches the men in my family move throughout the birthing stall.
“Colt’s filly. She was born last year about this time. Apparently, he’s decided every horse here is ‘mine.’ He’s too cute to argue with.”
“That’s the truth,” Brighton says from her position helping the mare with the afterbirth. “I won’t argue with him. I’m his favorite aunt. At least, that’s what I keep telling him.”
“Brainwashing,” Braxton coughs into his hand.
“I’m simply reminding him, Brax. I repeat the truth in case he’s as stubborn as you are.”
“That’s rich coming from you.”
Livy’s head is ping-ponging between the rancher and the equine vet. They work so closely together and with the same goals in mind, they might as well be a dynamic duo.
“I learned it from you.”
“The hell you did,” he shoots back.
“I’ve got to agree with Bright on this one,” I say from my position on the wall.
“Of course, you would,” he shoots back. “You two are thick as thieves. Always ganging up on us.”
“Oh, poor Braxton,” Brighton teases, her smile saying more than words do. “Are we going to name this one, or does he already have a buyer?”
“We have bids, but he’s from good stock. I’ll have to think about that one. His markings are stunning.”
The gangly foal walks away from his mom, willing to explore. He’s bold and wanders toward Livy sitting on the ground.
“It’s okay,” I say quietly.
“I know,” she whispers back.
“You know horses?”
“Not at all. But you’re here, so I know I’m safe.”
I suck in a breath, not at all expecting that response from her.
She continues, “And Brighton is here and Braxton, too, so the foal is safe as well.”
The colt stops in front of Livy and sniffs around her face until she giggles. He’s startled and tumbles backward with the sound.
“I’m sorry, baby. Are you okay?” She extends a hand slowly and nuzzles his nose, just as she would Kyle’s. “How fast will he grow?” she asks the ether while scratching under his chin.
“He won’t be double his size in four weeks, but it won’t take long. He’s probably at one hundred pounds today. We’ll weigh him tomorrow. He should be two hundred in six weeks or so,” Bright replies.
“Thank you for letting me be here.” I don’t know if she’s speaking to my sister or the colt or to me.
When the lanky foal wanders back to his mom, she looks up at me. I extend a hand, hoping I can stand if she falls. She accepts and pops up to my side. Wordlessly, we walk out of the stall to find Kyle, lying just outside, sound asleep and snoring.
“I’ll show you around sometime. But, for now, are you ready?”
She nods and limps to her crutches, handling them with ease to get her to the Gator. I left my walker there, a decision I now regret, but I keep pace with her much shorter stride.
“You okay to get us back?”
“It was the first time… Well, the last time I—”
“I get it.” Her voice is calm and reassuring. “But you’ve crossed that hurdle now.” She lets her words drift off.
Sometimes the kindest thing anyone can do is remind you of what you already know.
Livy
I’m whooped.
Crutches are a whole different level of physical exertion, and the mental game of navigating an airport requiring them is next level stuff. That was one thing. Suitcases were another. Kyle created an added layer of complexity with his size and the amount of attention he receives.
And there was the trip from Austin to the ranch.
I won’t even talk about the dry Texas heat that invades everything, from the top down and from the bottom up.
But the kicker was the emotional piece. The excitement and restlessness, the fear and nerves.
The idea of seeing him only to discover he wasn’t in the loop on the decision. The betrayal visible on his face. The rejection. The reveal of his desires and fears.
A birth.
A family.
Normally, I’d be game to stay up chatting, but today has been a lot.
“Thank you for a wonderful day,” I offer to Kimp and Layton in the living room after dinner. “See you in the morning.”
“Good night,” they reply in stereo.
I walk to the bedroom I’ve been offered. Never in my life have I accepted a job offer where I was staying with the client and his family. I can only imagine my mother—not to mention Tally—deciding the merits of this opportunity based on the housing situation.
It’s temporary. Quite frankly, I’m thankful for it. I can barely maneuver as is. Knowing that there’s another person to help with Kyle is a bonus. The idea that two men will handle an intruder when I’d be lucky to be the character in “The Karate Kid” if someone broke in is the icing on the cake.
Kyle and I settle in after I get a quick shower.
I’m almost asleep when my phone buzzes.
Layton: Good night, Pix.
Me: Good night, Layton. Hope you sleep well.
Layton: You too. Sweet dreams.
Me: :)
I fall into a deep and dreamless sleep, cocooned in a soft bed.
Sometime later, I grab my phone to see what time it is and if I’ve overslept.
There are messages from within the last few minutes. Maybe that’s what woke me.
Layton: You didn’t tell me about the black eye.
Layton: Confession time: I came unglued when I saw that. If I’d been there when that fucker touched you, I’d be in jail.
Me: I took an elbow during the attack on Kyle. Small fracture that should heal on its own. I was very lucky it wasn’t the eye socket.
Layton: I’ll go with lucky, too, but for him. If I find him, all bets are off.
Me: Layton, it’s not worth going to jail for. Or in your case, being sued for.
Layton: Not it. You.
Me: Huh?
Layton: You are worth it.
A smile tugs at my lips. This man…
Me: Thank you.
Layton: Thanks for coming to the hospital. I wish Pop had been more welcoming. I’m not making an excuse, but it wasn’t a good time.
Me: He was welcoming today, so perhaps now is when it was supposed to happen.
Me: I can’t imagine how rough that time was for you. You never responded that night. Or after… Until a week ago.
Layton: I lost my phone in the wreckage. I have no idea what you sent and never knew you called.
Layton: What did you send?
He’s being real, and the talk may be raw, but I’m not ready for that.
Me: I’ll show you sometime.
Layton: I’ll hold you to that.
Me: Why are you awake at this ridiculous hour?
Layton: I hate that I told you you shouldn’t have come. I keep replaying your face when I said that. It’s a long story for another time, but regardless, it was rude and untrue. I’m sorry.
Me: Thank you. I’m sorry it was a surprise.
Layton: I’m glad you’re here.
What is it about darkness that makes it easier to say scary things?
Layton: If I’m honest with myself—and I’m trying to be—I need your help.
Layton: Doesn’t mean I’m not still scared about hurting you.
Me: Why are you scared about hurting me?
Bubbles bounce, but there’s nothing. The bubbles return and again stop.
Me: It’s okay. You don’t have to say.
Layton: That’s a day two conversation.
Me: Impressive sidestep. ;)
Layton: Tell me a secret, Pix.
Me: Anything?
Layton: Anything.
Me: I could fall in love with your family in about two point five seconds.
Me: Will you tell me one?
Layton: You make me want to be whole again.
Whoa.
Layton: Go to sleep, Olivia. I’ll rest better knowing I’m not screwing up your sleep.
Me: You’ve only ever called me Olivia in bed.
Layton: I know. Good night.
I give his message a thumbs up to acknowledge I got it, but give him the last word.
He knows.