Page 47 of If You Like It, I Love It

“Can’t be bought, just earned with time and life’s hard knocks.”

“Well, that’s unfair.”

“Ah, the hell it is. That’s exactly the way it should be. Don’t you come in here feeling sorry for yourself with your good looks and successful business at your young age.”

I savor my beer for a few more sips, letting her backhanded compliments roll off because those things don’t mean much to me right now. “There are more important things in life.”

“You bet your ass there are. But it never hurts to remember the good stuff we’ve got going on, even when something else might not be going our way. Especially then.”

“You’re a wise woman, Trudy.” I sigh into my beer mug. “Everything becomes what it’s meant to be.”

“Don’t twist my words either. Yes, I believe what’s meant to be will be, but that doesn’t mean it won’t take effort. And time. You’re going to have to give her more time, Enzo, and you might have to adjust your effort. But don’t give up yet. I’ve known Joni a long time. She’s worth the trouble.”

That’s what I love about this town. You never have to confess details about your life. Everybody already knows everything you’re doing and who you’re doing it with.

“That beer was on me,” she says. “Go home and get some rest when you’re done with it.”

“What if I was planning to have another one?”

“Change your plans. You don’t need another one. You need sleep.”

She sounds just like my mother. If Mav was working, he’d pour me a second beer, and he probably wouldn’t even mention Joni. But we’d eventually run out of small talk, and I’d bring her up. I don’t want to be that guy in the bar, the loser who can’t shut up about the one that got away. She hasn’t even gotten away yet. There’s still time to make things right between us. There has to be . . .

Yeah, I definitely don’t need another beer.

24

Joni

Dr. Abernathy comes running while I’m still on my knees, begging Oliver to get up, knowing as the words leave my mouth that he can’t.

“I’ve already notified the hospital in Rose Creek we’ve got a downed alpaca headed their way,” he says. “They’ll be ready for him when we get there, Joni, but I’m going to need your help to move him, okay?”

I hear him, and I nod, because I know what’s happening, but I feel like I’m watching it unfold from outside my body.

“He was fine, and then he just . . . went down. He hardly ate yesterday, but he was better this morning. I ran as soon as I saw his legs wobble, but I couldn’t get to him in time.”

“Listen to me. You did get to him in time. You did everything right. Don’t panic now. The calmer we are, the better it is for him. We can do this, you and me. Do you have a heavy blanket we can use for a sling?”

Enzo’s voice cuts through my disoriented fog. “Do you want me to get a blanket from the barn or the house?”

“House,” I say quickly. “The ones in the barn aren’t big enough.”

How long has he been here? I watch him run into the house. I don’t know if he’ll know where to look, but I don’t want to leave Oliver’s side if I don’t have to.

He’s back in a flash, kneeling and unfolding the blanket next to Oliver until it’s only doubled over lengthwise. How does he know what to do?

Doc tells Enzo to hook up the trailer and back it over here while he and I get Oliver onto the blanket.

Again, he takes off. Does he even know how to hook up a trailer? How to back one up? I’ve never asked him to do either of those things, never asked if he knows how . . . but he didn’t hesitate. How did he know Oliver was down and we needed help?

I support Oliver’s neck after we get him into the trailer while the vet positions his legs for safe transport.

“We need hay bales to cushion him and keep him steady,” I say, suddenly clear and confident. The panic is over. It’s go-time, and Oliver needs me fully present.

Time blurs, but Enzo loads a hay bale into trailer, and Doc shoves it between Oliver and the side wall. Enzo hoists another bale in, and Doc ensures Oliver is snug between them. Blankets from the barn follow, a whole stack of them. I roll them tightly and gently wedge them behind and around Oliver anywhere they’ll fit. Another hay bale appears, and Doc pushes it to Oliver’s chest, spreading a blanket over the top.

He’s as secure as we can make him, but it doesn’t feel like enough.