A headspace that doesn’t involve thinking about my summer fling every second of the day, wondering if she’s okay. I broke my own vow. The paintings aren’t hidden in my drawer like I originally planned. Instead, the wildflower field is framed and standing on my nightstand, and the other one, I keep under my pillow.
When I’m not thinking about Juniper, I spend my days training Athena, helping Mary with the chores, or helping new racers begin their journey. Seeing the joy on their faces when they make their first clover leaf is almost better than winning a competition, and seeing their progress is more fulfilling than any belt buckle I’ve ever won.
As I make my way to my small cabin after taking Athena for a ride, Mary appears by my side. She’s a petite thing, barely reaching my shoulder, with long, gray hair she usually keeps twisted in a claw clip.
Her lips are tipped in a frown, a wrinkle between her eyebrows as she loops her arm with mine. “I’m worried about you.”
“Hello to you, too. My ride was great, thanks for asking. I was just heading in to grab some lunch before evening chores.”
Mary lightly smacks my arm. “Don’t be sassy with me. I’m serious. When are you going to tell me what happened at that ranch?”
Mary’s been on my case since I arrived. I told her nothing happened, that it was a standard summer working on a ranch.
She doesn’t believe me.
She would be correct.
What am I supposed to tell her? That I found the love of my life in Copper Creek, and I had to leave her there because she doesn’t want to leave the ranch, and I wanted to travel and compete? That if she asked me to stay, I think I would have? Mary would think I’m ridiculous for wanting to give up racing for someone else.
I heave out a tired sigh. “Mary?—”
“Don’t you ‘Mary’ me, Addison Riley. I’ve known you since you had to have help getting on a horse. You may have everyone else fooled into thinking you don’t feel things as deeply as you do, but not me. Your time on that ranch has you gloomier than usual, and I want to know what happened so I can help fix it.”
As she talks, she steers me away from my cabin andheads toward her house.
The little white farmhouse with a yellow door is as familiar to me as my parents’ house, and slipping off my boots so I don’t track dirt is second nature. She guides me to the worn, chestnut table and sits me down in a chair before sliding me a plate with a ham and cheese sandwich on homemade rye.
I reach for the sandwich, my stomach grumbling in anticipation.
Mary snatches the plate back and tuts. “You can have it, but only if you tell me what the hell happened this summer.”
“That’s cruel.”
She just shrugs.
“Fine.”
Mary slides the plate back over to me, and while I eat, I tell her about Forget Me Not Ranch. I leave out the explicit bits, obviously, but I tell her everything about Juniper, and the moment I knew I was in love with her. I tell her about Oakley and the Calhouns and how at peace I felt there.
By the time I’m done with my spiel, her mouth is agape. “Why the hell did you leave?”
“She didn’t ask me to stay.”
“Well, did you offer?”
“No. I wasn’t going to invite myself to stay there. Besides, it would never work out. She’s got some hesitations about leaving the ranch, and I would never put her in a position to make her uncomfortable. I want to roam. I want to travel and race and…” I shrug.
Mary’s eyes narrow. “Is that really what you want? I know it was when you started there, but… you’re allowed to change your mind. No one’s going to judge you if you never get back to racing.”
I thought for sure she’d tell me I made a smart decision. That racing is what I’m meant to do.
“I didn’t quit racing on my own terms. I quit because I lost myhorse, and now that I have Athena, I have to give it another shot. Racing was my life. I can’t just give it up.”
“The keyword in that sentence is ‘was.’ Racingwasyour life. It’s okay to let go of things when they’re no longer what you want. Sometimes it takes life throwing you a curveball to realize you need a change. Is racing still something you want? Or do you want to settle?”
She has a point. Even though Athena is talented, and I’m having fun training her, the pull to compete isn’t even a gentle tug. It feels like something I shoulddo, instead of something Icrave.
“I think… I think I want to do at least a few competitions. I promised Mr. Calhoun I’d invite him to a race. But… you’re right. I don’t feel the call as strongly as I did in April. I like training, and I think if you’ll let me stay, I’d like to continue to teach.”
