Page 50 of Whispered Promises

Guilt creeps in like greasy smoke, choking me. I should be happy. My bills are covered each month, just about at least. I’ve a roof over my head and food to eat. I’ve got new friends in my life, potentially a boyfriend…not that we’ve labelled anything.

I’ve so much more than other people in the world, so why is my mind sabotaging it?

The consuming guilt over my attraction for the other guys…

I need to squash it down, lest I risk messing things up with Nate and losing him. The guilt just opens the floodgates for all the intrusive, negative thoughts today.

A soft nuzzle in my ear pulls me from the spiral.

“Jerry!” I squeal at the face hovering above me as I lie in the grass. “That tickles, you menace.”

I bracket my arms around my head, trying to fend off the mischievous pony. But it doesn’t deter him one bit. His tongue slops out and lands in my ear, and my face gets covered in his slobber.

Lovely.

“Okay, okay. I’m getting up. You can stop,” I say, laughing freely. Rolling onto my knees, I come face-to-face with the stubby Shetland pony.

“You may be cute, but you're annoying. Why couldn’t you just let me lie there and have my pity party?”

Sticking his black muzzle in my face, he blows a huge raspberry. Sighing loudly, I wipe away the moisture. It’s my fault, really. I should’ve known complaining whilst kneeling eye-level with him wouldn’t garner me any sympathy.

“Okay, got it. No pitying allowed, but I at least deserve a hug.”

When I open my arms, he takes the cue and barges into my chest, hooking his head over my shoulder. I wrap my arms around his neck and lace my fingers into his thick black mane. He might not be able to hug me back like a person can, but there’s something about sinking my face into his furry bay-coloured body and wrapping my arms around him that soothes me.

“I needed that. Thanks, cutie.”

Gently pushing him back, I climb to my feet and dust off the blades of grass and mud stuck to me.

“Right, I need to get on with the day. Everyone’s been fed, but I need to clean out the goats’ shelter and check on their fencing. Do you want to come with and see Harry?”

Jerry tosses his head and stamps a teeny hoof at me.

“Okay, come on then.” I laugh, shaking my head at him.

His no usually results in a snort and him walking away. Pony’s too clever for his own good.

I turn to the gate, and Jerry charges past me and waits impatiently. I reach through the fence, grab his head collar from the hook, and put it on him. Gathering up the supplies from the barn, I chuck straw and hay into the barrow, then we head over to the field.

“Can you stop trying to eat their hay? You’re supposed to be on a diet, you hungry hippo. This is a social trip for you, not Meals on Wheels.”

Naturally, he ignores me.

We push through the gate, and we’re greeted by happy bleats. Well, except for Matilda, who’s angry at Jerry for munching on her food.

As soon as I unclip the lead rope from Jerry’s head collar, he trots off, butting Harry excitedly as they greet each other.

This right here is my bubble; the little piece of happiness that I fight for every day. To be here for them.

But it’s also for me too.

It’s grounding in a way I haven’t the words to explain.

With a little more lightness to my step, I grab the handles of the barrow and push it towards the shelter. Once I finish cleaning it out, I move on to sorting the goat’s fencing. With Mavis being an expert escape artist, we have to regularly check the fences to ensure there aren’t any gaps or damaged areas.

Crouched low, I’m absorbed in hammering an additional staple to secure the metal mesh to the wooden post, when my phone starts vibrating in my pocket.

“Crapsicles, hold on.”