I didn’t think I could cry anymore, but a fresh wave of tearsbuilds on my lash line, and I let them glide down my cheeks to soak my pillow. For a moment, I consider texting her to make sure she’s alive and okay, but I don’t know if that’s crossing the line.
I don’t know how I’d react if she didn’t respond.
I know I need to let her go, but for tonight, I’ll let my sadness consume me.
I’ll pick myself up and dust myself off tomorrow.
Chapter 28
I’ve spentthe entire drive to Salt Lake sniffing back tears and questioning everything.
Sappy isn’t a word I would use to describe myself, but I thought—hoped—maybe Juniper would say she loved me back. Maybe she’d ask me to stay, and even though I want to get back to racing, I would give it up to be with her.
But she didn’t say it back. She didn’t ask me to stay. And I think it has more to do with her than me, but it doesn't stop the hurt.
It’s nearing eight o’clock by the time I get settled in my motel room. Athena is at a stable for the night so she can get adequate rest, and I’ll pick her up in the morning. The drive took a bit longer than I expected because I kept stopping to make sure she was okay.
And maybe I was contemplating turning around and going back to Forget Me Not Ranch.
After shoveling a burger and fries into my mouth, I shower and toss myself on the bed. I’ve slept in my fair share of motel rooms and never had a problem falling asleep after a long day of traveling, but tonight, sleep evades me.
The gift Juniper gave me, sitting in the glove box of my truck, calls to me. I slip on my boots and grab it, tracing the neat, swooping letters of my name, lingering on the little heart above the ‘I.’ She said not to open this until I get home, but she’s not here, and I’m too impatient to wait.
I carefully unwrap the brown paper and set it aside, and I’m left with a plain white box. My breath catches when I lift the lid and see the painting. It’s a smaller version of the one she was painting for her mom. The vibrant pinks, purples, and greens of the wildflowers against the backdrop of the mountains is stunning, and the ache in my chest grows.
Gingerly, I lift it out of the box to get a closer look, and another piece of paper slips out and flutters to the floor. Words catch my eye as I pick it up, reading the back.
I hope you’ll always remember the wildflowers,
and me, but in case you need a reminder, you have two.
All my love,
Juniper
I reread the word ‘love’ over and over. At least I have it written down, even if she didn’t say it back.
When I flip the card over, I nearly drop it. On it is another smaller version of a painting she’s done. The first time I saw the larger version, I ran away from her because the feelings it invoked were too much for me to handle,.
Now, looking at the watercolor depiction of a hand threaded through strands of blonde hair, the head bracketed between two thick thighs, the feelings bubble up inside me, widening the cracks in my heart.
A tear slips free, dropping onto my hand. I tip my head backand blink back the rest of them. I don’t want to ruin the beautiful picture in my hand, the only thing other than my memory I have of Juniper.
The only thing I can compare the devastated way I feel to is the time I lost Artemis, but that was a different kind of pain. Losing Artemis was debilitating, and grieving her was a long process, but even when she was alive, I knew I wouldn’t get to keep her forever.
This is like someone’s carving out my heart with a rusty blade. It won’t be so easy to get past.
There’s no cutting Juniper out of my heart, even if I tried.
My fingers itch to reach for my phone and send her a text, but I refrain. Talking to her would only increase the depth of my wound, and if I want to let it scar over, I need to keep my distance.
Even if distance is the last thing I want.
I slip the box into my backpack and vow to only look at it once a month.
Two months have passed since I arrived at Mary’s training facility. Athena is acclimating well to being in a new barn, surrounded by new horses, and she’s a natural with racing, just as I suspected.
Our first few runs were slow going while she got used to the barrels, but we’ve been getting faster. I know it’ll be a few months until we’re ready to compete, and I’m not upset about it. Athena needs time, and since I’ve been out of the game so long, I need to get in the right headspace.
