Rosie looks extremely cute with her now shaggier winter coat, but it’s still not as long as some of the other horses, and she doesn’t enjoy being outside in the snow as much as Maggie and Brown Sugar do. She’s content being in her warm and cozy stall for part of the day, and I suspect that’s because she used to live in Florida.
“That’s one thing we have in common, Rosie,” I say. “Enjoying the warmth.” I’m wearing as many layers as I could fit under my coat today, and reluctantly traded in my pink boots for warmer work boots.
I set the mash down in Rosie’s stall, and she immediately dives for it, sounds of her slopping away filling the barn. I pull up a stool next to the stall door, and perch on it. I’ve got a lot on my mind and Rosie is the perfect listener: she never presses for more information or judges me. Candice wouldn’t either, but I still feel too conflicted over what Jonah and I shared last night to tell anyone about it.
“I thought I never wanted to sing for anyone else ever again,” I tell Rosie. “I thought that part of my life was over. But singing with Jonah feltgood. It hurt too, but the good kind of hurt.”
Rosie pauses her slurping and then answers by making an utterly obscene sound with her mash, and I can’t help but smile.
“I thought that I had to let go of my past life completely in order to become someone new. But what if there are parts of my past life that I want to keep? What if singing is one of thosethings? I could sing at the Neon Horseshoe sometime…” I trail off, too unsure to finish the thought. Singing with Jonah is one thing, but singing for a bar full of people? I’m not sure I could do it without being reminded of my pageant days.
Rosie pops her head over the doorway, finished with her food and looking expectantly at me for more. Her muzzle is covered in mash and she looks ridiculous—and a world away from the sleek, high strung thoroughbred she was a mere month ago.
“He held me while I cried,” I say softly, acknowledging the other part of the evening that’s been on my mind. “He held me while I cried, and it made me feel like everything might be okay.”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Alone in the barn, with no one but Rosie and Fuzz to listen, I finally admit what I’ve been feeling for the last week.
“Something is going on between me and Jonah. And it scares the shit out of me.”
27
JONAH
Winnie is singingin the shower. Loudly, and with perfect pitch. She started doing this a few days after the night we sang together, and every time it puts a smile on my face, not just because she sounds good but because she’s clearly healing. She’s gotten louder and bolder each day, and has worked her way through several more Judy Garland songs, as well as a few country ballads. She even threw in a Christmas song today because somehow, it’s already December first.
I can’t quite get into the Christmas spirit with her though, because my mom’s checkup and scan is in a few hours. Ice fills my veins as I think about what it could mean. The cancer might have come back. It might be infecting her body once more, stealing her away from us. She might be sicker than ever. It doesn’t feel like a checkup appointment. It feels like a death sentence.
The bathroom door swings open and a wet, pink faced Winnie, wrapped in one of my navy blue towels, interrupts my train of thought before it can get any darker.
“Hi,” she chirps.
“Hey.” I keep my eyes fixed firmly on her face and refuse to notice the way water droplets dot her collarbone, or that the towel is precariously tucked on one side.
“What time should I be ready to go?” she asks.
“Are you sure you still want to come?” I can’t keep the apprehension out of my voice.
“Of course I do. As far as your parents are concerned, I’m your wife.”
“Sure, but my mom was pretty tough on you the first time you met her, so I don’t mind if you’d rather not go.”
“You don’t need to give me an out,” Winnie says. “I said I’d go and I’m going. Your mom might have been tough on me, but we’re getting along just fine now.”
“Right, sorry. It’s just that…” I don’t finish the sentence, unsure of if she really needs to hear about Jessica.
“What?” Winnie’s blue eyes are focused on my face, and I can tell that she wants me to continue—to open up to her.
“My ex-girlfriend couldn’t deal with my mom’s cancer stuff. She broke it off right when things started to get difficult. I don’t hold it against her, because not everyone can handle watching someone be sick.”
“Well I do,” Winnie says, putting one hand on her hip. The movement causes the towel to shift downwards, revealing more of her skin. “She should have been there for you.”
“It’s fine. We weren’t that serious,” I protest, unsure of why I’m defending Jessica at all. She did hurt me, but my chest burns at the thought of admitting that. Of admitting I deserved more.
“Wouldyouhave been there for her?” Winnie levels at me.
I nod. “I’d be there for anyone close to me going through something like that.”
“Exactly. You know Jonah, you’re really good at taking care of others, but you should let someone take care of you for a change.”
