"I don’t know, Miss. It’s not that simple."
Missy rolls her eyes.
"She really needs it, Ford. I can’t always be around to give her lifts, and cabs would just drain the money she needs for repairs."
I exhale, rubbing the back of my neck, frustration simmering beneath my skin. The last thing I want is to get more tangled up in Stormy’s world, but Missy’s logic is irritatingly solid, even if it clashes with my own need to keep away. I want her gone, but if she’s to stay, then I don’t want to see her struggling.
I glance towards the seat where she sleeps, the sunlight catching in her blonde hair. Her breathing is slow and steady, her body curled as if she’s trying to hold onto sleep a little bit longer. There’s something about the way she looks, completely unaware of the conversation unfolding about her, that twists something in my chest.
"I’ll think about it," I mutter, turning away, already regretting it.
I arrive at the stables a little later than usual, and my mind hasn’t shut up since I left the house this morning.
Stormy.
How peaceful she had looked in her garden, the morning sun casting a soft glow around her. Thoughts about whether I should I let her use the truck spiral around my mind. Do I really want to involve myself further? My head tells me no, but my gut is saying otherwise.
Buddy barrels past me as we make our way through the big barn doors, heading straight for Kit as he finishes up for the morning. Kits hair is back to its usual floppy blonde state, no sign of wax in sight. But what catches my attention is the purple t-shirt he’s wearing. I don’t know if I’m reading too much into it, but if I’m not mistaken, purple is Harper’s favourite colour.
"Hey, Ford," Kit says as he finishes tidying up the horse tack. Buddy nudges at him, and Kit absentmindedly scratches behind his ears. "Star seems to be doing well," he tells me, then adds, "Oh and Raven seemed a little antsy this morning, so I let her out early in the fields to run off some energy."
Raven isn’t just my horse—she’s one of my best friends. She came to me at a time when I needed her most. When dad was sick. It was a long battle with cancer, one that stretched on and on, wearing down everything in itspath. Watching him fight, watching him suffer … I couldn’t stop it, and I felt useless. Like all I could do was stand there and wait for the inevitable to unfold.
Then came Raven. She was shut down, neglected, mistrusting of everyone. She needed help, and for the first time in a long while, I found something I could do, something I could fix. She gave me something to focus on when my mind threatened to spiral. She gave me a reason to keep moving, to wake up each day with something to work towards.
Earning her trust and helping her heal wasn’t easy, but it was something I could accomplish. Something that, unlike my dad’s illness, wasn’t out of my control.
But more than that, I swear Raven understood.
It wasn’t just that I was helping her. Somehow, it felt like she was choosing to help me too. She could feel it, the weight I carried, the grief I tried to shoulder alone. She stayed close. Quiet when I needed quiet, present when I was slipping too far inside my own mind. She was patient with me in a way I hadn’t expected. It was as if, in her own way, she was telling me, “I get it.”
Animals aren’t simple creatures. They’re complex, full of thoughts and emotions just like we are. And they need just as much care, devotion, and kindness as we do. Raven taught me that healing isn’t one sided. It’s something shared between souls that recognise each other’s pain.
Maybe I saved her, but in the end, she saved me too.
And Clara hated that.
She never understood why I found it easier to sit in silence with Raven rather than talk to her. She thought I trusted an animal more than her. But animals don’t judge. They don’t demand answers or explanations. They don’t expect you to be okay when you’re anything but.
So, I make a mental note to find Raven once I’ve taken Kit and Harper to school. I normally spend most days with her, but lately, I’ve been toobusy, only managing fleeting moments here and there, and guilt plucks at my chest.
I glance around, noticing Kit has done everything that needed to be done this morning, so I turn to him.
"Come on, we’ll go grab Harper."
Kit doesn’t move right away. He hesitates, which isn’t like him.
I narrow my eyes.
"Something wrong?"
He shakes his head too quickly.
"Nah, all good."
He’s lying.
Kit’s always been a playful troublemaker, but today, there’s something off. I can tell by the slight tension in his shoulders, the way he avoids my eyes.
