“I did, very much. She was always around your aunt and me, making sure we didn’t do stupid things, which we did but pretended we didn’t.”
Sadie laughs, and then her face turns somber. “I don’t remember her.”
“You were really young when she passed away.”
And that’s the saddest part. She should’ve known her mom, gotten to feel her love for more than just three years. I don’t know what my life would look like without mine. She taught me so much about life, friendship, forgiveness, and patience. So much patience.
“Yeah, it’s fine. I see a lot of photos, and Dad is always willing to tell me about her,” Sadie says, playing with her thumbnail. “Everyone says I look like her.”
“You do,” I tell her. “You also look like your dad, though. You’re kind of the perfect mix, and it changes day to day.”
That seems to make her happy as her grin grows wide. “You think?”
“You’re very pretty,” I tell her.
She really is. Even though she’s in that age group where I feel like no kid looks good. It’s that stage of braces and acne, when you’re starting to grow up but still not fully there. However, with Sadie, she’s just adorable.
“I think I look more like my dad.”
“You do?” I ask, surprised since she mentioned her mom.
She nods. “All my friends think he’s hot, which is so gross.”
Well, they’re not wrong. The avoidance I was doing so well is fading. “My friends all talked about my brothers—I get it.” I need to regain control, and the horse is the perfect way.
“Do you think my dad is hot?”
My throat practically closes as I choke on air. After a second I’m able to think clearly, and I turn to her. “What?”
“My dad, do you think he’s good-looking? You know, from a woman’s perspective. He’s single. Are you dating anyone?”
Oh my God, she’s trying to set me up with her dad. Little does she know I’m desperately in love with him, and he doesn’t want to be with me.
Like this week could get any worse.
I clear my throat. “I’m…umm…I don’t think I’m the best person to answer that.”
Maybe that’ll deter her.
“I think you are.”
Clearly, I misjudged my line of thinking.
I glance down at my watch. “As much as I’d love to talk about this?—”
“You don’t. I can tell,” Sadie finishes, and I laugh.
“You’re right, I don’t. What I do want to do is work with Cloud.”
She shifts on the fence and nods once. “Got it. Work with Cloud. I’ll be quiet as can be.”
I really hope that’s true, because if she starts asking me about Tristan, I might break down and cry.
Which I’ve done so damn much of.
I spend the next twenty minutes doing easy drills on the ground. Cloud is very responsive for a horse that hasn’t been handled much. He moves when I instruct him to and has passed pretty much every possible skill I can throw at him.
“Sadie, what happened with Cloud? Why did you fall off him that day?” I ask after he completes the last test. It’s the test that usually will upset a horse, though he remained perfectly calm.
