The shift had started in me. Somewhere along the line, I’d stopped fighting what I felt and started facing it. And Dottie, perceptive as she was, had sensed the change. She could feel everything I was carrying, everything I was hiding. She wasn’t going to trust me until I started trusting myself.
“I knew you’d get there,” Mom said softly, slipping under the railing and moving closer. “It takes time to bounce back from chaos.”
She reached for Dottie, giving her time to sniff and approve before running her hand gently over the mare’s nose.
I glanced at her, narrowing my eyes slightly, not because I was upset, but because I was trying to read her. I wasn’t sure she was only talking about the horse.
My chaos. My bounce back.
“Huh,” I said, crossing my arms as I watched her and Dottie. “It does.”
I hadn’t told her everything. I hadn’t let her all the way in. The edge of disappointment still lingered beneath the surface.
My mom knew there was something between us—Logan and me—but she didn’t press. We were keeping things slow, undefined. No labels, no pressure. But I knew I was his, and he was mine. That part didn’t need a label because he’d already branded himself onto my heart.
“How are you doing?” Mom asked, blunt as ever.
Maybe Boonehadsaid something.
“I’m good. Why?” I replied, my voice faltering slightly.
She stepped beside me and took my arm gently, guiding me over to the fence so we could lean against it together. That was her thing—finding a place to anchor when she wanted to talk deep. I braced myself.
“What is it with my children thinking I don’t know them as well as I do?” she said with a small laugh, smiling at me.
I shrugged, but a lump was forming in my throat.
“I’m not sure where you’re going with this,” I said, even though I did.
“Your brother pulled the same crap with me when it came to Aspen,” my mom said, tone dry but loving. “Iknowwhen my babies are going through something.”
I blinked, taken slightly off guard. Did she mean with Logan?
“Logan and I are good,” I said quickly. “Things are going really well. I’m happy.”
“I know that,” she replied with a soft smile. “I’m not talking about Logan. I’m talking about everythingelse. Everything that’s happened over the last few years. Howyou’redoing.”
A rock lodged in my throat, my stomach twisting into tight, uncomfortable knots. But I breathed through it, steady and slow.
She continued, her voice low, almost hesitant. “I’m bringing this up now because… for the first time in a long while, I canseeyour happiness again. I didn’t mention it before because I knew how hard you were trying to manage everything on your own.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that. Didn’t know what to do with the idea that she’d intentionally taken a step back, given me space, when all this time I thought I’d been hiding everything so well.
But that was my parents—never pushy, never intrusive. They believed in letting us figure things out, even if that meant we fell on our faces first. When I left, they didn’t beg me to stay. They asked questions, sure. But they didn’t interfere. Didn’t tell me I was wrong or try to course-correct my choices.
Their love was quiet but present. Hands-off but never absent.
“I mean, you know things weren’t easy for me… with the whole Buck situation,” I said, the words slow and hesitant. Her nod came immediately—gentle, understanding.
“There’s a lot I haven’t told you,” I admitted. “Emotionally, I’ve been trying to work through it all on my own. Trying to make sense of who I am now.”
“I know, sweetie,” she said, reaching out to rest her hand on my arm.
The gesture was so simple, but it undid me. That soft, grounding touch only a mother could give. Comfort without pressure. Connection without expectation.
Emotion swelled, unexpected and sharp. Maybe it was the touch, or maybe it was being seen, but it cracked something open in me.
And so I told her.
