“Good.” Candice nods. “And is there any chance you could get your trust fund early?”
“Not unless I age four years in the next day or get married.” I grab Rosie’s rug and halter from where they’re hanging by her stall, and ease the door open. “Damn my grandma for being so old fashioned when she wrote in the terms of the trust.”
“You might meet someone at the open mic tomorrow evening, you never know,” Candice jokes.
“Sure,” I say, “and Rosie might grow wings and fly, too.” I put the rug on Rosie’s back just fine, but struggle to get her to lift her head up. She’s too interested in her food.
“You could sing, you know. At the open mic.”
I hide my wince by trying to get Rosie’s attention again, but she completely ignores me. “I’m done performing.”
“You’re done with pageants and modeling and brand deals, sure. But not with singing,” Candice says. “You love to sing.”
“Sure, I’ll keep singing in the shower. But I’m not going to sing for an audience. I’m tired of everything that comes along with that. The judgement. The expectation. Besides, I’m supposed to be keeping a low profile.”
“No one in Star Mountain will recognize you.”
“Jonah already informed me of that. Very clearly I might add. But I still can’t take any chances.”
Candice snorts. “I know Jonah is a bit rough around the edges but he’s very kind once he gets to know you. He’s very loyal.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” I don’t mention that Jonah’s words to me earlier are what gave me the courage to look at my mom’s post in the first place. “Come on Rosie, it’s time to go out,” I say, patting her on the side. The horse still doesn’t move an inch, muzzle buried in her food.
“If you put the rope around Rosie’s neck you can use that to get her head up,” Candice says.
“Now you tell me,” I grumble.
Using Candice’s advice, I get Rosie into her halter, and then together, we walk her outside and to the paddock she’ll be in for turnout. As soon as I let her off the lead, she darts away, kicking her back hooves out behind her, and then trotting around the paddock haphazardly.
“Is she upset?” I ask Candice.
“She may just be stressed out, and being outside probably feels like a relief.” Candice turns to go back inside, but I don’t immediately follow.
“You coming?” she asks.
“I’m going to stay out here for a bit longer. The cold will help me clear my head,” I tell her with a smile.
Candice nods and heads back to the barn. I linger by the fence, watching Rosie canter around the paddock. She’s fast, and clearly capable of even more speed. She’s beautiful and elegant, too. For the life of me, I can’t understand why she wasn’t wanted, just the way she is.
She slows down to a trot and passes in front of me, flicking her head towards me for a second as she does.
“We’re both worth solving, Rosie,” I call out into the cold air. “I promise.”
8
JONAH
The Neon Horseshoeis always packed on open mic night, and this evening is no exception. It’s a pretty big space, with room enough for line dancing, so filling it up basically means that the whole town is here. I’ve seen nearly half my graduating class tonight already, and almost all of Holden’s ranch hands. Most offer me a clap on the back and a word of luck as soon as they see the guitar case I have with me.
I try not to think about how many people are here as I take a long swig from the beer I’m holding. I’m not exactly nervous up on stage, but it doesn’t happen that much, so I’m not used to it. I’ve been working my ass off lately trying to make more money, and that hasn’t left much time for indulging in my hobbies, beyond some wood carving here and there.
I started playing guitar when I was just a kid, and quickly learned that music was a lifeline. It helped me make friends despite the fact that I was quiet, because every band needs a good guitar player and a backup singer. It was an outlet for creativity and fun, which helped me immensely as an only child. And when my mom got sick, singing—even if it was just in the car on the way to the hospital—kept me going. It kept her smiling, too.
I glance around and catch the horse rescue crew filing into the bar. Beau is first, followed by Jenny, a funny, smart redhead who has worked at the barn for a few years. Tomás is close behind, along with Candice and Nathan. I hold my breath, wondering ifsheis with them. Maybe she stayed at home—open mics and music might not be her thing.
But then she appears in the doorway, like a fucking ray of sunshine. She did her hair, and somehow it’s coiffed and glamorous despite being short. It reminds me of something you’d see in an old Hollywood film. She’s wearing some sort of ruffled, sheer top that is low cut across the chest, and she’s paired it with jeans.
I’m reminded of how she said she was excited to get to wear jeans. I thought it was weird, and I still do. But more than that, I’m curious. Who told her she couldn’t wear jeans? Do pageants queens never get to dress casually or something? I sort of assume it’s a part time job, but maybe it’s not.
