He turned to her, lowering his voice. “You okay?”
Trinity nodded, her smile tightening a fraction. “I’m fine. Just... it’s a lot, you know?”
“Yeah, I get it. If it’s too much, just let me know, okay?”
She seemed to relax a bit at his words, taking a deep breath. “Thanks, Spencer. I appreciate it.”
He gave her a reassuring nod before turning back to Mia. “Alright, cowgirl. Let’s go get Bluebell.”
CHAPTER 10
The sourness in Trinity’s stomach didn’t subside, even though she had done everything she could in an attempt to get rid of it. She’d fished a peppermint from her purse and popped it into her mouth, sucking on it in hopes of relieving her nausea. She’d practiced deep breathing, wondering if the trembling in her belly was a sign of an impending panic attack, and if she somehow regulated her inhales and exhales, she could overcome it before it took hold. She’d had two attacks since Calvin died, and both occurred at the most unpredictable—and inopportune—times.
She even sent up a quick prayer, but that didn’t do anything to change the unpleasant feeling rolling through her stomach.
And now her cheeks felt hot. It was warm for autumn, but not so hot that it should cause her to break a sweat while doing absolutely nothing. She had perched herself on a nearby bench while Spencer and Mia tended to Bluebell who was tied to the hitching rail just a few feet away. He was going over the grooming essentials: brushing, hoof picking, mane detangling. It was the sweetest view, but the discomfort in Trinity’s stomach made it next to impossible to properly enjoy.
When the back of her tongue began to tingle, she politely excused herself.
“If things are okay here, I’m going to step into the ranch house and get myself a glass of water,” she told Spencer, hoping he wouldn’t say there was a mini fridge in the barn with bottles of water that she could grab instead. She needed a break, a chance to splash cool water on her face and regroup.
Somehow, he read the fatigue in her eyes.
“Yeah, of course.” His own expression shifted to concern. “We’re good here.”
“Thank you,” she uttered so quietly she wondered if the words even came out. But she didn’t have time to repeat herself; she quickened her stride and rushed into the house, needing the cool air conditioning and a glass of ice water like it was a lifeline.
She had hoped the kitchen would be empty, but with the ranch house now acting as lodging for visitors to Snowdrift, she wasn’t so lucky. There was a congregation of young women milling around a pitcher of fresh-squeezed lemonade, the girl in the center donning a white sash that read, “bride-to-be.” A bachelorette party, Trinity assumed.
Thankfully, the sink wasn’t obstructed, so she made her way around the gaggle of women and pushed the faucet handle back. Cool water streamed out, and, if she hadn’t had an audience, she would have splashed a palmful of it over her face. Instead, she simply tore off a paper towel from its roll, swiped it under the running stream, and then pressed it to her cheeks, her neck, her collarbone.
“You good?” The voice came from behind her, but it wasn’t one of the bachelorettes. They were still busy chatting and giggling about some mishap at a winery that had happened earlier that morning.
Trinity turned on her heel, coming face to face with a woman she hadn’t seen in years.
“Clara?” She looked directly at Spencer’s twin sister. “I didn’t know you were back.”
“Hi, Trinity.” Clara grinned, but her smile faded when she noticed Trinity’s condition. “Hey, are you feeling okay? You look really flushed.”
Trinityfeltflushed, and not in the good way when her cheeks would pink from laughter or excitement. No, this was something different altogether.
“I’m actually not feeling my best,” she confessed. She slumped against the counter and pressed the paper towel to her forehead again. “I think I might be coming down with something.”
It would make sense; her son had just been sick. As much as she wanted to believe the unease in her stomach was related to her anxiety about Mia’s lessons, the timing was too coincidental to be anything other than a bug.
“Why don’t we take a minute in the living room?” Clara suggested.
Trinity hadn’t even registered the fact that Clara had taken ahold of her elbow to direct her out of the kitchen and into the sitting room located on the other side of the entryway, but when the backs of her knees hit the couch cushions, she immediately plopped down in relief.
“I’m going to get you a glass of ginger ale.”
Before Trinity could protest, Clara was gone.
Well, this was beyond embarrassing.
She would not allow herself to become physically ill. She would will away any sense of impending nausea and pull herself together. But that rumbling of her stomach just wouldn’t subside.
“Here.” Clara returned and placed a bubbly glass of ginger ale on the coffee table, giving Trinity another empathetic look. “See if you can take a few sips. It might help.”
