Текст книги "Never Say Never"

Автор книги: Emily Goodwin

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

Chapter 7

I take in a deep breath of warm June air. I love the way it smells when it rains. “It’s okay,” I say softly to Phoenix. She knows I’m coming in to treat her wounds. I can’t blame her for shying away; it can’t feel good. I hold out a treat, but that doesn’t work anymore. I get what I can and decide to come back later, not wanting to stress her out.

It’s Saturday afternoon, and I’m scrambling to get my barn chores done before Lori comes over to hear every last detail about Aiden. It’s windy and has been raining on and off since I drove home from Lily’s Café.

I can’t get Aiden out of my head. He’s kind of a pompous ass, but shouldn’t I have expected that? It was hard to dig up info on his life before he became famous. He comes from a middle-class family living in London, went to college for theatre, and landed a role in some British Broadway show. Things went crazy from there, and he’s now a mega superstar making tons of money.

His life is charmed. He has everything he could ever want and more than he could ever need. I could get angry thinking about how unfair it is. Part of me wishes I would. At least I would feel something. It isn’t his fame, fortune, good looks, or even the presumptuous way he asked me out that sticks in my head.

It’s the scars, the way his beautiful eyes dimmed, and for a minute I thought he understood what I meant about saving the horses and getting second chances. I shake my head at the thought. No, that’s stupid. We didn’t share a moment. We didn’t share anything but conversation and a table. I don’t know him. It’s impossible to connect that fast.

Or is it?

Mom’s voice rings in my ears, telling me to loosen up and enjoy life. It’s over before you know it. One day you’re young and in your twenties, the next you have a daughter who’s turning twenty-one. Life can be over before you know it, before you expect it. Before it’s fair, before you can be ready, and just like that it’s swept out from underneath you, knocking you back into icy water. I’m treading as fast as I can, furiously kicking my legs. Yet I’m sinking below the surface.

I bring Sundance into the crossties and run a brush over his dark bay fur. He’s a muddy mess from rolling around in the pasture.

“Hey, boy,” I say to him. “I’m sorry you haven’t been ridden. Though you probably like it. You are kind of lazy.” Ten minutes later, I take him out into the round pen to be exercised. I stand in the middle of a circular arena and motion for him to move forward. I watch him trot around, seeing his muscles flex with each stride. Sundance came here in rough shape too. He had mange and worms, and his mane had to be shaved off because it was so full of burs. It took months of trimming to get his hooves looking good again.

I let him out in the pasture then get Benny, repeating the same process. How could something I once loved feel so tedious? Not wanting to be in the barn and around the horses filled me with guilt. Mom would be ashamed. Being there without her…it was too much.

“I didn’t forget about you,” I say as I slide open the heavy oak door to Shakespeare’s stall. He nickers softly and moves to me, pieces of hay sticking out of his mouth as he chews. Just the sight of him makes me smile, and my broken heart thumps in my chest. He nudges me with his nose and I turn around, offering him my back. He rubs his head on it, covering me in white fur. I twist and wrap my arms around him, inhaling the sweet scent of grain and hay. I get a flashback to one of our first shows we did together.

It’s the middle of summer and so hot. I’m sweating in my breeches, tall leather boots, and black show jacket. I lead him into the ring, smiling for the judge. I hate showmanship. I hate not being on my horse. But Mom thought it was important.

Shakespeare is as bored as I am. He digs at the ground, rubs on me, and then rolls. I stand back and watch in horror. My freshly bathed white horse is rolling in the damp sand arena. All eyes are on me. I can hear Mom shouting at me to get him up.

But I just laugh.

He jerks his head up and looks out the open Dutch door, hearing the car pull into the driveway before I can. I move to the door and wave to Lori. She parks by the house and gets out. Chrissy lazily trots over, wagging her tail. She’s such a great guard dog. I hug Shakespeare, let him out, and hurry up the driveway.

“Tell me everything,” she says. “I am so jealous!”

I smile because I know I should, though really I feel dead inside. I should be excited, right? I should share Lori’s excitement. I am just as big of a fan of Aiden as she is, and an even bigger fan of Shadowland. But I just don’t care. We go inside, and Lori sets a bag of takeout on the counter.

“I got Thai food,” she says. “You didn’t eat, did you?”

I shake my head, and my hunger comes on with a vengeance. I forget to feed myself, and preparing meals takes too much energy. I’ve missed more meals in the last few months than ever before, and it’s starting to show.

“Did you touch him?” she asks, hazel eyes sparkling. “Please tell me you did. Oh, did he smell good? Did you take a picture with him? Let me see!”

I grab two glasses from the cabinet next to the sink and fill them both with water. We take our spots at the island counter. I take a bite of spicy noodles before I get out the voice recorder.

“No to all of your questions,” I say with my mouth full. “Listen.” I press play.

Lori leans in, too enthralled by Aiden’s voice to eat. I slowly chew my noodles, listening to the interview. I sound bored, disengaged even.

“You don’t even sound nervous,” Lori says. “I’d be stuttering and mixing up words like crazy.”

“I was nervous at first. Then we got to talking and I actually felt sort of comfortable. He was easy to talk to.” And I really didn’t care, but I don’t tell Lori that, nor do I tell her about him asking me out. She’d take me straight to the looney bin for sure, or at the very least demand I take the antidepressants again. And maybe she’d be right.

“I am so, so fucking jealous, Hay. You have no idea.”

I laugh. “I have a little idea.”

She nudges me and rewinds the interview, listening to it again. “Is he staying in Billings?”

“I didn’t ask. I’d assume so. He was at a bar there, so it makes sense, right? Besides, there aren’t too many other cities around here with nice hotels.”

“You should have asked.”

I shake my head and flash another smile. I could have found out. Well, maybe. Who knows if we would have gone back to his hotel room or not.

“Let’s go bar-hopping in Billings next weekend.”

Going out, getting dressed up…I used to love it. Now it seems like too much effort. “I shouldn’t,” I start. I can’t look Lori in the eye. “I don’t have extra money to spend on drinks and—”

“I’m buying your drinks,” she says. “I never got to take you out for your birthday, and one night out will do you some good, even if we can’t find Aiden.”

“What about Kit?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

She waves her hand in the air. “He won’t care. At all. He picked up a few extra night shifts next week at the hospital.” She clasps her hands together. “Please come out with me. You need this.”

“Fine,” I say. It’s a week away. I can get out of it by then. There’s no reason to stress about it now.

“You look hot,” Lori says, standing behind me Friday night. I look at my reflection and hardly recognize the woman looking back at me.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I’m all for showing off my boobs, but don’t you think this dress screams, I give it up in the bar bathroom?”

My dark hair hangs in tight curls around my face that will loosen by the time we get to the bar. My hair never holds a curl. I think I look substantially better with a full face of makeup. My skin isn’t horrible, but I have red marks dotting over my cheeks and a general uneven tone across my whole face. I like wearing eye makeup, though I haven’t that often recently. It just runs down my cheeks when I cry.

Now I’m sporting a gray and black smokey-eye, red lipstick, and this dress. It’s dark purple with black lace around the edges. The neckline is low and it’s tight around my breasts, which have nearly doubled in size since I put on a few pounds. The burns on my left shoulder show, and even though it doesn’t quite match, I put on a black cardigan to cover them up. “I’m fine with looking like a whore,” I say, tugging at the hems. My thighs are bigger than the last time I wore this. “But I don’t want to look like a cheap whore.”

“Cheap whores don’t wear Jimmy Choos,” she says with a smile and reaches in her bag, pulling out a pair of deep purple heels. “Or carry designer bags. We’re going all out tonight. No excuses. I’m ordering you to have fun. Or else.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I slip on the shoes, fluff my hair, and look back in the mirror. I want to have a wild night like we used to. I want to laugh and let go and have fun. I want to feel happy. Really, I do. But that seems like a distant memory, and I’m not sure I remember what happiness feels like.

“Ready?” Lori says. She looks perfect in tight jeans, heeled boots, and a corset top. She’s a few inches shorter than me, and at least twenty pounds lighter. Her strawberry-blonde hair is swept up and away from her face by a headband, and her makeup is flawless. I don’t know how she does it.

I suddenly feel anxiety about leaving. It’s only an hour away, and we planned to come back here before sunrise. If I got my way, we’d be leaving by midnight.

Halfway to the city, Lori gets a texted from Kit. “Ah shit,” she says as she reads it even though she’s driving. “He forgot his wallet—again—and wants me to bring him money for food since we’re going to be in the city.” She makes a face. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all. I don’t want to make the poor guy starve.”

“He’s such a pain in the ass,” she says, setting her phone in her lap. She and Kit have a very passionate relationship and fight almost as hard as they make up. He just got a job as a respiratory therapist at the hospital in Billings. Moving closer to the city was their current hot-button issue.

We talk, laugh, and sing along to the radio the rest of the way there. I almost feel like my old self. I almost feel happy.

Almost.

But when she parks in the ER parking lot and gets out to run the cash in, I smell smoke. I squeeze my eyes shut and dig my nails into the leather seat of her Honda Accord. I’m not in the barn. I’m not on fire. My scars hurt and the heat is too much to take. When I open my eyes, I see flames.

Suddenly I can’t breathe, and the seatbelt across my chest is constricting. I yank on it, panicking when it doesn’t come loose. Fear takes over and I need out. I gasp but don’t get any air. Smoke fills my lungs.

Haley! Mom’s voice cuts through the darkness. Get her out of here!

Tears fill my eyes and finally I get the seatbelt free. I get out of the car, gasping for breath. I take off, getting away from the flames. It’s so hot, so painful. The flames rise up, taunting me.

Haley!

“Mom!” I cry out. I’m still running. I turn around to see how close the fire is. Then I bump into something and fall to the ground.

A car alarm goes off, and I’m jolted back to the here and now. Pain sears at the palms of my hands; they tore open on the pavement when I fell. I hold them up and look at the little droplets of blood that are pooling on the surface of my skin.

I blink and take in a sharp breath. I’m in the hospital parking lot. There is no fire. Mom is not calling to me. A tear runs down my cheek. I hold on to the bumper of the SUV I ran into and shakily get onto my feet. Heels click as I hurry back to the car. I need to get my phone, call Lori, and tell her I need her. Now. And maybe I really do need those pills.

I pull back on the door of her car. It’s locked. “You have got to be fucking kidding me!” At least she had the keys. I toss my head back and look up at the stars. “Do you think this is funny? Seriously, why? Why me?” I shake my head. “I’ll never know, because you’ll never fucking tell me, because you’re not real!” I shout to the heavens. I put my head in my hands and wince at the pain.

Right. I had gotten cut. Sighing, I start toward the hospital doors, knowing I should wash the nasty parking lot grime off before it gets infected. I keep my head down as I walk, not wanting to deal with anyone. I freeze outside the doors that lead into the ER waiting room, the only way into the hospital this late. My breath catches, and I’m in the middle of the fire again.

The last time I was in the hospital was after that night. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I’m frozen in place and the fire comes closer and closer. The heat hurts and I close my eyes, ready to embrace it and let it take me.

The doors slide open, but I can hardly hear the footsteps over the roar of the flames.

“Haley?”

The accented voice is deep, calm, and familiar. I open my eyes. I never expected this.

“Aiden.” His name slips through my lips, and I look into his dark eyes before I have a chance to process what’s happening. I’m shaking, still able to smell the smoke that clings to my body, and bleeding.

“Are you all right?” he asks, and he moves toward me, limping slightly. His dark hair is pushed back out of his face, and he’s wearing Wranglers and a flannel shirt. He looks so different from how I’m used to seeing him—well, seeing him on TV, that is.

“Yeah,” I say right away. “Are you?”

Our eyes meet and that same feeling goes through me, like he can see deep down inside me, past the makeup and the dress, past the façade I’ve put up, knocking down walls and staring right at my dark and broken heart.

I want to run away.

“I’ll live,” he says. “Twisted my ankle on set today. I didn’t want to come here, but you know, insurance and all that shit. I had to make sure it wasn’t broken. It’s not even sprained. Just sore.”

“That’s good,” I say, pushing my hair back.

His eyebrows push together and he reaches out, taking my hand. The moment our skin touches, I shiver. “You’re bleeding.” Carefully, he brings my hand to him, flipping it over. “And you said you’re all right.” His eyes run over me, as if he’s just now realizing I’m dressed like I belong on a street corner. A smile pulls up his lips and his eyes sparkle. “I’m guessing you have an interesting story to go with this.”

I see the redheaded woman he’s with cross her arms and stare at us. She checks the time on her phone and sighs. I smile back at Aiden. “No, I really don’t.” Unless he considers freaking the fuck out and reliving the worst moment of my life over and over interesting. “And I really am okay. My friend had to bring her boyfriend something.” I tip my head. “He works here. I, uh, fell and came in to wash the blood off my hands.”

Aiden just looks at me, eyes hovering over my breasts before coming back to my face. “I wasn’t sure if it was you,” he says. “They gave me a shot of pain medicine. Nothing too strong, but strong enough to make me feel a little out of it.” His fingers sweep over mine and he drops my hand. “You look good.”

I stop smelling smoke. The fire in my mind is reduced to ashes just by talking to Aiden. The ER buzzes to life around me. “Thanks. And you look…” I take my time looking him over. The jeans are tight in all the right places. He has on a western belt, hidden behind the untucked plaid shirt. His look is complete with cowboy boots and spurs. “Different.”

He laughs and rakes his fingers through his hair, messing it up. “Tell me about it.”

My gaze lingers on his boots. “Your spurs are upside down.”

He looks down at his feet. “Really?”

I nod. “Yeah.” The spurs are long and sliver, with a gold wheel at the end. They’re the kind of spurs I hate, the kind that border on abusive. Oh, Hollywood…do some fucking research once in a while instead of going with what looks good.

“Thanks,” he says, and he lifts his foot up for a better look. “How can you tell?”

I laugh. “I don’t know how you can not tell.”

The woman puts her phone in her purse and comes over. “What are you doing, Aiden? You have to get back. You need off your ankle.” Her eyes flick to me, full of judgment. It confuses me for a millisecond, then I remember what I’m wearing. I guess I can’t blame her. I look like the typical Hollywood fangirl whore.

“The spurs are upside down,” he tells her. The woman looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “Haley told me.”

Her eyes move back to mine and she purses her lips. “And you’re taking her advice because…?”

“Because she knows horses,” he says.

“Wait, you’re Haley?” the woman asks like she knows me. I just nod, unsure of exactly what’s going on. “Oh, oh! Haley, the reporter.”

“That’s me.”

She flashes Aiden a look that says, You better behave, and leaves, telling him she’s going to get the car.

“Your hands,” he says suddenly. “You should go see someone about it.” He beckons to the ER. We are still in the vestibule, the little covered section that closes us off from the night but keeps us from the actual waiting room.

“No,” I say. I am just scraped up, and even if it’s bad, I’m only going to the ER if it’s life or death. I’m still paying off my medical bills from the fire. “Really, just some soap and water is good enough.”

He takes a step forward and the interior doors slide open. The attendant behind the desk is watching us. Thank God for HIPAA laws.

“You don’t have to come with me,” I say, and a bit of hurt flashes over his face. “I mean, you should be resting, right? You probably have a lot of filming to do.”

He shrugs. “You know I had three broken fingers for the first half of shooting the last season of Shadowland, right?”

My curls sway around my face when I shake my head. “No, I didn’t know that. You couldn’t tell at all.”

He smiles, and I’m a goner when he does. “That’s a compliment.”

We walk in silence through the waiting room, and he leans against a wall when I go into the bathroom. The cuts burn as I rub soap over them, picking out the little pieces of gravel from under my skin. I like the pain. It reminds me that I’m alive.

I should feel excited that Aiden Shepherd is waiting outside the bathroom for me. I should be obsessively fixing my hair and cleaning up the smudges of eyeliner on my face from crying.

But I don’t. I’m hollow inside, my heart a pile of ash in an empty cavity in my chest.

I press a paper towel to my palms, holding it there for a few seconds before tossing it in the trash and leaving the bathroom. Aiden is still waiting for me. He’s on his phone, smiling at whatever he’s typing. The door swings shut behind me and he looks up.

“Better?”

“I think so.” I hold my hands for him to see. “Not so bad, right?”

He puts his phone in his back pocket and I distantly wonder how it fits. Those jeans are tight. His fingers sweep over the back of my hand.

“Yep. Better.”

“So,” I start. “How did you hurt your ankle?”

He laughs and looks a little embarrassed. “I, uh, fell off the horse I was riding.”

“Oh. I’ve fallen plenty of times.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, but you’ve ridden more than me, so it’s not as bad.”

“Hey, everyone falls.” Then I’m hit with another wave of sadness. What the fuck is wrong with me? I’m a walking disaster. “You just get back on.” My voice is small, and my eyes fall to the floor.

“Yeah, thanks. Hey,” he says quickly, and I look back into his eyes. “We should go riding together. You can give me pointers. I kind of suck, and I’m not used to being bad at anything.” He runs his hand through his hair again, laughing. The scar on the inside of his wrist is covered with makeup. “Maybe those pain meds are stronger than I thought. I shouldn’t have admitted that.”

“I…I can’t.” The air leaves my lungs and I’m spinning. Riding. Giving lessons. That was something I did before the accident and haven’t done since.

He raises an eyebrow. “You turn me down for drinks and now riding. You can just tell me you’re not a fan or something so I can stop trying.”

I close my eyes and shake my head. “No…it’…it’s not you. It’s, uh…”

“You’re really giving me the ‘it’s not you it’s me’ line right now?”

My fingers shake and the scars prickle. I try to take in a breath but fail. I falter on my heels. Total walking disaster. If Aiden were smart, he’d get the hell away from me.

“You don’t understand,” I say.

He takes my hand again, looking at the tiny scratches on my skin. “Then help me understand. You’re different, Haley, and I can’t decide if that’s a good or bad thing. You’re a curious thing, that I know for sure.”

I swallow, my throat suddenly thick and dry. “It’s complicated, and you really don’t want to be around me.”

He laces his fingers through mine. “That makes me want to even more.”

I pull my hand back, refusing to fall for his charm. It was easy to do. From his brooding eyes and charming smile, to his body so hot you could fry an egg on it, he could fool you into plummeting off the steepest cliff for him.

But he wouldn’t catch me. Not ever. He’s Aiden Shepherd. That’s what he does, who he is. And I have to be smarter than that. I promised to make a difference in this world, to right the wrongs and restore my own faith. Aiden is the last thing I need.

“You shouldn’t.” And now my eyes are filling with tears, and I’m angry with myself for being so weak, for crumbling so easily. It’s easy to fall apart when nothing is holding you together. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. A tear rolls down my cheek.

He steps closer and wipes it away. “What happened to you?” His eyes meet mine, and I can see the pleading, the desperation, and the fear.

“It’s not what happened, it’s what didn’t happen.”

“Tell me?” he asks, so quietly I almost don’t hear him. He puts one hand on my waist. His touch is warm and gentle. I want to move in, to bury myself in his embrace and just feel.

I take a step back. “Why do you care?”

The same confusion he showed when I turned him down for drinks is back. He shakes his head. “I don’t know. You’re different, Haley,” he says again. “It’s weird to be treated—”

“Like normal?” I interrupt.

“Yeah,” he says, not seeing how offensive that is.

“Because you’re not normal? You’re better than everyone just because you’re famous?”

“Well,” he starts, and the look on his face is all I need. He thinks it’s true, that he should be treated better, given a gold star by everyone, just because he’s an actor. “Wait,” he says when he sees the abhorrence in my eyes. “That came out wrong…even though I didn’t say anything. Listen, Haley.”

Someone walks toward us, and I turn to see Lori stop dead in her tracks. Her jaw drops and she looks from me to Aiden several times. Then she sees my tears and rushes over.

“Are you okay?” she asks, putting an arm around me. “What did you do to my friend?” She turns on Aiden. Lori can channel something dark and evil that makes her five-foot, four-inch frame terrifying. “Did you hurt her?”

God, I love my best friend.

“I…I didn’t,” Aiden says as he puts his hands up.

“It’s okay,” I say, tipping my head up. It’s not okay, not at all. I’m a bumbling mess and I haven’t told anyone about the flashbacks. “I got bored waiting for you so I came in. Aiden was here.”

“You got bored?” she says, knowing it’s bullshit.

“Yes. I’m fine,” I press. My eyes go back to Aiden of their own accord. “Aiden, this is my best friend, Lori. Lori, this is Aiden.”

He puts on his meet-and-greet smile. The charm melts away Lori’s anger. She shakes his hand and fumbles over her words, gushing about the season finale of Shadowland. I step back and let them talk. I need to get it together. Each day should be easier, not harder. I should be feeling better as time passes, healing little by little every day, but I’m not. I feel like each day passing rips into me more and more, killing what’s left of me. The visions are coming on stronger, and I know I am becoming more and more unhinged each time I get pulled into the past.

“Well,” Lori says. “I’m going to get the car. Take your time, Haley.” Her eyes widen with excitement, and she stands there for a few seconds before turning and leaving.

“This is kind of awkward,” Aiden blurts. He looks surprised at his own honesty. He could blame it on the pain meds. “Like I said, I’m not used to getting turned down.” He takes my hand again. Dammit. Stop touching me. No, not really. Keep doing it. “Go out with me, Haley, just once. Then you can decide if you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” I say, involuntarily moving closer. “But I don’t know you, and you don’t know me.”

“Why do I get the feeling you don’t want me to get to know you?”

I pull my hand back and rest it over the patch of scar tissue hidden under the cardigan. “Because I’m not the kind of girl you usually hang out with. You won’t want to get to know me.”

A coy smile pulls up his lips. “Now who’s being presumptuous? I’m taking you out, Haley Parker. And by the end of the night, you won’t want to leave.”

I can’t help but smile too. “You know, you’re kind of cocky.”

“Let’s leave my cock out of this until I buy you a drink.”

My smile widens and I shake my head in disbelief. “Fine.”

“What’s fine? The part about me taking you out, or the part about my cock after I—”

“Taking me out,” I say, blushing

He gives me his trademark smile. “What the hell is there to do for fun around here?”

Fun? What is fun? My mind actually comes up blank when I try to think about things I used to enjoy. I haven’t felt happiness in so long.

“It’s that bad, huh?”

I inhale. “I’m not a fun person,” I say, each word coming out forced. “Not anymore.”

He looks at me, pained, and takes my hand again as if he needs to feel my skin against his. “I don’t believe that. You look like you’re about to raise hell tonight.”

Oh right. The slutty dress. There will be no hell-raising for me. I don’t have it in me. What I want is my bed and a glass of wine. He licks his lips and closes the distance between us. His hips are just inches from mine. With the heels on, we’re nearly the same height—a curse of being a tall girl.

“Are you free tomorrow night?” he asks, and I nod. “Good. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

My heart skips a beat. Is this really happening? “Do you need my address?”

He shakes his head. “Claire will figure it all out.”

“Claire?”

He looks over his shoulder for the woman he was with before. “My assistant. She does everything for me.”

“Must be nice.”

“She’s all right.” He shrugs. “Dinner tomorrow. And if you can handle it, drinks after.”

“Deal.” I’m smiling again.

With my hand still in his, we turn and walk out of the ER. We exchange numbers and pause in the parking lot.

“Have a good night,” he says, and he lets his eyes do one last sweep over my body.

“You too,” I tell him. He’s still holding my hand, and I don’t want him to let go. An ambulance speeds to the hospital, and I get a flash of my ride in one. I yank my hand back and shiver. “Good night, Aiden.”

“I’ve tried everyone else,” Dr. Wells says. I bite the inside of my cheek. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t an emergency. The clinic is full. I have literally nowhere for her to go.”

I close my eyes and get out of bed that next morning. Lori is passed out next to me, and Chrissy is sprawled out at the foot of the bed. I cut myself off after one drink, finding it hard to keep the visions away with alcohol sloshing around in my mind.

“I don’t know,” I say as I pad out into the hall, softly closing the door behind me. “I don’t know if I’m…if I’m ready.”

“I know, honey,” Dr. Wells says, and the empathy in her voice breaks me. She’s been our vet for years. An older woman who’s seen it all, Dr. Wells sometimes feels like my grandmother instead of my vet. “And I also know your mother wouldn’t want you to lock yourself away in that house. She wouldn’t want you to close your heart or your barn.”

I take a minute, tears filling my eyes. “You’re right.” I can only whisper, too close to crying. “I’ll take her.”

“Thank you. I’ll have someone drop her off later this morning.” I can hear the smile on Dr. Wells’ face. “I’m proud of you, honey. And your mom was too. She still is.”

And now I’m a blubbering idiot. I sob a goodbye and hang up. I go down the stairs; they empty into the living room. I cross the room and enter into the kitchen, looking out the window above the sink. The sight of the barn calms me. I stare at it for a few beats, then turn and make a cup of coffee.

A pile of bills sits on the island counter. I’ve put off opening them for the last two days. There is nothing I can do about them, after all. I can’t avoid it forever. I open my laptop, going to the Excel spreadsheet Dad set up for me, and cringe when I enter the negative numbers. How the hell was I going to afford the farm? I always knew horses were expensive—especially sick horses—but I had no idea how many thousands of dollars it took to keep this place open month after month.

“How did you do it, Mom?” I ask, and I put my head in my hands. My grandmother—Mom’s mom—offered to give me money but I turned it down, knowing she didn’t get much living off of social security. But damn, I could use all the help I could get right now.

“Hay?” Lori calls from upstairs. “You down there?”

“Yeah.”

She slowly comes down the stairs, the wooden boards creaking under each foot. “Who were you talking to? I heard you crying. You okay?”

“Dr. Wells.”

“The vet?”

“Yeah. She has a newborn foal that needs a home.”

Lori squints in the morning light. “You’re taking her, right?”

I nod and get a second coffee mug out for Lori. “I didn’t want to,” I confess. I turn to my best friend. Lori likes horses but isn’t as passionate as I used to be. Sometimes I think it is odd I am best friends with someone who doesn’t eat, sleep, and breathe horses like I did, especially when we were younger.  “I’ve never not wanted to before.”

She sips her coffee. “It’s the first time you’re doing this alone,” she says softly.

“I know. Phoenix…we set out to get her together. But this foal…I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t.”

“You should. Haley,” she starts, and I know she’s serious. “I’m worried about you. I know it takes a long time to heal, but you’re shutting everything out—even the horses—and that scares me so much. I don’t want you to shut down completely.”

I can’t argue, can’t tell her she’s wrong. She’s not. I want to tell her about the visions, about the horrible, nightmarish flashbacks that suck me into hell, repeating the last horrible moments of that night over and over and over until I’m sure I’m nothing more than a pile of ash and bone.