Would his feelings be the same when he goes back to the life he lives? I’m just Haley, a small-town girl barely getting by and dealing with a loss. What makes me so special?
Carefully, I turn in his arms and look at him. He is special. He is more than some famous actor. There is so much more to him than he lets on, and it’s beautiful. I want things to work between us so badly it hurts. I wish I could ask Mom for advice, and for a split second my brain tells me to ask her in the morning as she frantically moves about the kitchen, getting ready for a long day of work in the barn.
I close my eyes, my heart sinking. Mom is gone. There is no one else who will talk to me as honestly as she would have, and no one who would be able to see Aiden for who he is and not what his job is.
Mom, I miss you so much. I’m so lost, so clueless. I have an amazing man lying naked next to me—a man who tells me he loves me—yet I can’t let him in because I’m scared.
Exhaustion pulls me into sleep again, and I dream about Aiden and fire.
* * *
I grab my phone, silencing the alarm before it wakes up Aiden. It’s Sunday morning, the last day of my weekend. I go back to work tomorrow, go away from Aiden. I flop back down, my eyes closing. I’m not ready to get up yet, not at all. But the horses need to be fed, stalls need to be cleaned…along with a slew of other barn chores.
I kiss Aiden and get out of bed. A cool breeze blows through the open window. Aiden is lying on his stomach, blankets tangled around his legs. The top of his bare ass is showing. I admire it for a few seconds then cover him up, making sure he’s warm. Actually, he feels hot. Too hot. Shit, I hope his fever didn’t come back. I can’t remember if he took his antibiotic last night either. I’m not going to wake him up yet, so I silently grab my clothes, go to the bathroom, and then head out to the barn.
Chrissy follows me, her nose down in the grass, sniffing her way to the barn. I slide the heavy door open and am greeted by a chorus of whinnies. I smile, my heart warming at the sight and sounds of my horses.
“Hey, guys,” I say. I do a quick head count, going down the aisle. When I get to Phoenix’s stall, my heart stops beating. She’s always standing in the back. Always. But I don’t see her. I run to her stall, fingers shaking as I desperately lift the latch. She lying down, legs outstretched and head on a pile of uneaten hay, not moving.
“Phoenix!” I say as I throw the door open. She rolls an eye up to look at me. She’s alive, thank God! I run into her stall, dropping to my knees. “Are you okay?”
She lets out a deep breath and raises her head, giving me a pissed off glare, and gets to her feet. My heart settles down. She was just sleeping.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” I say, my voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to get you up, but you freaking scared me!” I put my hand over my chest and blow out my air. Holy shit. It’s normal for horses to sleep lying down, but I’ve never before seen Phoenix lying in her stall like that. I blink back tears, and it hits me how much I don’t want this horse to give up.
Of course, I don’t want any horse to give up, but Phoenix is different. Mom died for her. Phoenix has to live. She has to.
“You can go back to sleep,” I say, knowing she won’t. She would have gotten up anyway when I started divvying out hay. I’m still freaked out as I change the bandages on the new guy, and I have to keep looking at Phoenix to make sure I didn’t just imagine her getting up. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen something that’s not really there.
“You need a name,” I say to the gray gelding. “Hmmm. I think you look like a Gandalf. Gandalf the Grey,” I say and smile at myself. He’s standing this morning, which is wonderful. Putting horses in slings to keep them up and keep the weight off their injured legs is stressful to them. Plus, it’d be expensive to equip the barn with it, though it would cost less in the end than sending him out.
He nibbles his hay and looks down at me. There is hope in his eyes, and it’s brightened since Friday night. Sometimes it still amazes me how much a little love and faith can do for someone, equine or human. He still has a long recovery, and I’d be shocked if he could ever be ridden. Finding him a forever home is going to be a challenge.
I sigh, reminding myself it’s too early to worry about that just yet. He has a long way to go, and good progress can halt and even go backward.
“You won’t, will you, big guy?” I ask him as I gently run my hand along his neck. Once his wounds are healed, he’ll need a bath. Dirt, sweat, and feces have built up on his rough coat for months, years maybe. I shake my head and pet him again. I make a mental note to call Judy later and see how the legal part of this rescue is going. I’m so glad she’s handling that part. I’ve seen Mom go through it many times. It’s never fun.
I treat Phoenix next and then give everyone grain and fill another bucket with formula for Aurelia. I stay with her while the other guys eat, then I move into Shakespeare’s stall.
I let out a breath and look at my horse. Then it hits me how much I miss him. Yeah, I’ve seen him every day. I’ve cleaned his stall, fed him, and brushed him. But it isn’t the same. I used to spend hours grooming him, riding him, just sitting on his back as he lazily moved along the pasture grazing.
I long for those days again, for days when I have time to relax, and mostly, for days when I don’t feel like barn chores are tedious. I’d clean a stall over a room in the house any day, of course, but right now I’d choose lying in bed doing nothing over anything else.
Well, almost anything. There is Aiden, and doing nothing with him by my side is healing. I smile at the thought of him. Things have been a whirlwind of suckage since Mom passed. I’ve never thought about ending my own life, but there are nights when I lay in bed, wishing it had been me who died in the fire, or that we’d perished together. Things were just too painful. More than once I’d wished for something horrible to happen to me—a crash on the way to work, my burns getting infected and me going septic and dying from it—and end it all in a way that felt natural.
I haven’t felt like that—haven’t longed for a peaceful end—since Aiden made sure I let him into my life. I’m smiling again without realizing it, thinking back to how persistent he was, and how perfect he is.
There has to be something wrong with me. Why am I so hesitant to move forward with things? Is it because we are rocketing through life at a harrowing rate, time slipping through our clenched fingers like water? The tighter you hold on, the faster it escapes you.
I don’t want to get my heart broken. I know that…but I also know there is more to it, and I cannot figure it out.
“What is wrong with me, baby?” I ask Shakespeare. I lean against the stall wall, watching the bones in his jaw move as he finishes his grain. “Aiden, the guy who’s been in here with me the last few days, is the most amazing man I’ve ever met, let alone dated, and I’m scared of getting too involved.” I slide down on a pile of hay and let my eyes close. If I stay still too long, I’ll fall asleep.
“Am I being stupid?” Shakespeare takes a drink then slobbers water on me before moving to his hay. “I take that as a yes,” I say with a chuckle. Horses can’t answer, not directly. But they are good listeners and often know what you are feeling before you feel it yourself.
I let my mind drift, going to the place I’ve been too scared to let it go. Aiden’s life is full of exposure, moving around, being on the go. Acting is stressful, and I hadn’t realized until I met him how little he gets to dictate his own life. He needs someone who can go with him, who can keep him company and take care of him, who can support him and be his number one fan while staying true to our relationship.
“I can’t give him that,” I say as the truth barrels into me at ninety miles an hour. I open my eyes and look at my horse. “I can’t be that person he needs.” This whole time I’m thinking my heart is broken, but I realize then it’s more than that. My soul is cracked. Cold, dark wind blows through me, chilling me, dimming the light that used to dance inside me.
I lost a part of myself the night I lost Mom, and I didn’t know if I could get it back. I’ve been going through the motions, but I don’t have any drive. I’m doing what I have to, not what I want to. I’ve closed myself off and shut out someone amazing, someone who makes me feel, makes me forget, who doesn’t look at me with pity or walk away shaking their head when I say I have flashbacks, that I’m still seeing the fire, smelling the smoke, still living in my own nightmare.
“What am I doing?” I whisper. I want to feel again, and I can only imagine Mom looking down, muttering under her breath, Haley, what the hell are you doing? I take a breath in, inhaling the calming aroma of the barn, and slowly let it out. “Day by day. That’s what he told me. I can do it.”
I stand up too quickly and have to lean on the stall for support as my vision blacks out. I need to shake myself from this funk. I need to start living life again, not wasting each day being angry with the cards that were dealt.
Life goes on in the blink of an eye.
Mom’s voice is loud in my head. Chills make their way through me and I nod. “You’re right,” I tell her. “It does, and I know I need to enjoy it. Enjoy things while they last, because that’s all we have. Life goes by, and life can be taken, in the blink of an eye.”
I push my shoulders back and nod to myself. I can do this. I can find joy in the things I used to, and I can take solace in Aiden.
I can love him.
And I can let him love me.
* * *
Country music drifts through the barn. I turn the electric clippers on and place one hand on Shakespeare’s muzzle. He stands there like a champ, not moving or shying away from the buzzing clippers as I shave the long whiskers off his face. I clean up his ears next, and he stands still again, of course.
I turn the clippers off and spray the blade with a cooling agent, then bend down and clip the long hairs off his legs and around his hooves. It’s been a while since I gave him this kind of attention, and he’s eating it up.
I feel good too. I’m unsure if I should be ashamed or not. No one could say I haven’t taken care of my horses, but they aren’t in tip-top shape, brushed, clipped, with neatly braided tails like they used to be. Well, they will be now.
I take a very clean Shakespeare into the round pen and exercise him, then let him and Aurelia out. I laugh and shake my head as Shakespeare sniffs and paws the ground, looking for a good place to plop down and roll. It never fails: the cleaner they are, the muddier the spot they will find to roll in.
“You’re fat,” I tell Benny, eyeing him as I walk back into the barn. I hadn’t cut back anyone’s grain because that would have been like admitting defeat, admitting that I really wasn’t going to ride. Because I might have, one day. I might have woken up with the itch to saddle up and ride.
But I hadn’t, and they were still eating as if they were being exercised regularly. I peer over the stall. “You too, Sundance. Both of you are going on diets.”
I take Benny into the crossties and brush dried mud out of his fur. I lose track of time as I groom him, singing along to the music. Twenty—or thirty or forty, I don’t really know—minutes later, he’s in the round pen, doing his best to ignore me and not exercise.
“You are so lazy,” I tell him with a smile. “I’m gonna get your fat butt back into shape. I’m actually feeling up for a trail ride, just to warn you. Mom would be pissed if she saw how fat I let you get. Come on, pick up a trot.” I wave my hand and make a clicking sound. If horses can roll their eyes, then that’s exactly what Benny did, but he at least starts moving forward at the slowest trot possible.
I laugh and shake my head. “No wonder you were a bad racehorse.”
I let him out back; he hangs around the gate, not wanting to go out alone. Shakespeare and Aurelia are in the side pasture again. Without a mommy to protect her, I don’t trust the other guys around her yet. And it’s closer and within eyesight from inside the house. I can easily check on her.
I take Phoenix for a walk up and down the driveway, keeping her on the soft grass next to the gravel. We stop in the front yard, and she immediately lowers her head and chows down on the long grass. I really need to mow. And pull the weeds out of Mom’s garden…and toss the hanging baskets on the front porch that I had forgotten about and now display dead flowers.
My stomach grumbles and I remember that I haven’t eaten yet. I yawn and give Phoenix a few more minutes before going into the barn. It’s after nine already. I should go inside and check on Aiden. Possibly having a fever had slipped my mind.
“That’s exactly why he needs someone better than me.” I sigh to Phoenix. “Someone who has their life in order. And knowing that he has his own demons…I don’t want to burden him with mine.”
I let her out in the dry lot, make sure the new gelding is okay, then let Sundance out with Benny, telling him he’s not off the hook from work yet. I quickly take all the water buckets out of the stalls, water sloshing down my legs as I carry the heavy buckets outside to dump and line up along the barn to be washed later.
I wipe my hands on my pants and stand up, stretching my arms over my head and squinting in the bright sun. I yawn again as I go back into the house, calling Chrissy off the back covered porch. She lazily gets up and trots over. We go inside through the garage.
The house is silent. I take my boots off and sneak upstairs. Aiden is still sleeping. I watch him for a few minutes, feeling a huge sense of relief. One day at a time. I’m focusing on today. Not tomorrow, not two weeks from now, but today.
I got downstairs and open the fridge, looking for something to make. I decide on French toast and bacon, with a fruit salad on the side. Before I can even think about cooking, I need my coffee. I make a pot then get to work, tossing Chrissy scraps of bacon as I cook.
I hear water running upstairs and pause, waiting to hear the floorboards creak as Aiden comes downstairs. When they don’t, I assume he went back to bed, and I flop a soggy piece of batter-covered toast in a frying pan. I turn the bacon and go to the fridge to dig out fruit to chop up.
“Morning.” Aiden’s voice comes from behind me. I’m rinsing strawberries in the sink and didn’t hear him come down the stairs. I turn off the water and turn around. He’s wearing a white t-shirt and gray athletic pants. His hair is pushed away from his face, and his five o’clock shadow has thickened. He looks incredible. “It smells good.”
I shake the water from my fingers and smile. “Thanks. I was hoping you’d stay asleep so I could bring you breakfast in bed.” I run a towel over my wet hands and toss it on the counter. He closes the distance between us and pulls me in. I hook my arms around his shoulders, heart fluttering.
“How are you feeling?” I ask. “You were hot this morning.”
“I don’t feel that bad, actually. I’m tired of coughing, that’s for sure.”
“Want more cough medicine? I don’t want you to get tired from it though.”
“It won’t affect me,” he says. “None of that stuff does.”
“Want some?”
“Yes, but not now.” He brings his head down and kisses me. My knees weaken as I kiss him back. “I’m supposed to go to a premiere in a few weeks,” he says. “It’s a friend’s movie. I want you to come with me.”
I pull away just enough to look at him incredulously. “Me?”
He chuckles. “You are my girlfriend, so yes, you.”
So many thoughts run through my head, with the first one being holy shit, to knowing I can’t leave the horses. It hits me again how serious he is about this—about us. I want to let him in, let down my walls and allow myself to feel love. But before I can process any of that, the piece of French toast starts to burn.
The smell of burning bread messes with my head and the soot-covered hands of death reaches from deep within, grabbing me, holding tight and refusing to let go. It pulls me down into a spiral of flames, and suddenly I’m there again, standing in the barn.
The heat. The smell of burning hors
e flesh. Pain. Red-hot, intense, horrible pain webbing across my side, melting my skin before I even realize I’m on fire.
Haley!
Mom! I have to get to her. I can get her out! The roof is on fire. We don’t have much time.
“Haley!”
Hands land on my shoulders and I fight them off. “Let me go!” I have to get in there and get Mom. “She’s still in there!”
“Haley! It’s okay. There isn’t a fire. You’re safe.”
I shake my head, my lungs burning. I can’t breathe. I’m going to pass out, but something nudges me. I turn, expecting to see Phoenix, her mane ablaze like the stuff of nightmares.
“Haley,” Aiden says as he pulls me to him. I feel his muscles flex. On some level, I know he’s there and that we are in the kitchen. My mind refuses to believe it. It’s betraying me, putting me back into the barn, back in the fire. “It’s okay,” he soothes. His hands cup my face and his lips press into mine.
The smoke fades. The roar of the flames is diminished to whispers. I’m standing in the kitchen, safely wrapped in Aiden’s arms. He’s kissing me, anchoring me to reality. He’s saving me.
“Are you with me, Haley?” he asks softly.
“I think so,” I rasp. “I’m so sorry.” My lip quivers. Aiden scoops me up and brings me into the living room. He sits on the couch, holding me as tight as he can.
“You do not have to apologize.”
“I feel stupid,” I admit. “My mind is broken. I don’t know why it keeps putting me back there.”
“Your mind is not broken. I think you have PTSD,” he says softly. “And it’s a hard fucking thing to live with.”
I close my eyes. “Don’t let me go,” I whisper, my hands trembling. “Not yet.”
“I’m not going to. Not now, not ever. I’m never going to let you go.”
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