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“Good girl,” I encourage her. “You’re going to do so well, Oaks.”

We canter back to the barn and slide off her back. George steps forward, taking her reins and I thank him, then reach for my notebook I left on the wooden bench beside Oakley’s stall. I jot down some notes for the training plan I’ve been working on all week long.

I’m finally feeling inspired again, ready to try something new.

The barn door opens and closes with a thud, and my mother walks into the aisle. She’s dressed in designer jeans and a button-down Ralph Lauren shirt. “Harriet, I made this very clear. You can continue your jump training with Loren…or you’re not welcome here.”

Closing my notebook, I look up at the woman who raised me. The woman I imagined loved me…but she only loved my success. She only loved the idea of me.

“I understand,” I say. “I’m looking for a stable space to rent for Oakley.”

Mother huffs a laugh. “Oakley belongs to me.”

I blink. “You can’t be serious.”

She pops a hand on her trim hip. “I purchased Oakley, I paid for her training, I fund this stable, this property. I pay the groom. I spent tens of thousands for Loren to train you⁠—”

I hold up a hand. “Okay, but you gave her to me for my thirteenth birthday.”

My mother nods. “Yes, with the expectation you would train with her.”

Tears fill my eyes at the idea of leaving Oakley behind. The whole plan I’ve concocted for my future involves Oakley—my partner.

My beautiful mare has been training with me for twelve years. Every jump completed, every competition won, has been on Oakley’s back. I swallow the tears back. “I’ll buy her from you.”

“She’s not for sale,” Mother says, her expression cold.

A tear slips free, running down my face. “Why do you want to control me? Why can’t you just let me live my life? I’ve trained, I’ve competed, I’ve done everything you asked of me. I made it to the Olympics and earned a bronze medal. I’m no longer a child, mother. You can’t dictate every move I make…and why would you want to?”

Her cold expression falters for a moment. “I’m not trying to control you. I’m forcing you to see your true potential. I’m pushing you toward greatness.”

I shake my head. “See,” I say with a dry laugh. “That’s the problem. You can’t see that I’m already great. Even without a gold medal, even without getting first place in the Grand Prix.”

My mother’s forehead wrinkles in concentration, like she’s doubting her narrative for the first time. “You’ll understand someday, when you become a mother.” She takes a step toward me. “You’ll do anything to ensure your child has the best life, that they accomplish their dreams.”

I meet her gaze, feeling nothing but sympathy for her. That she thinks that’s what love is. “You’re right.”

Her eyes widen in stunned surprise.

“If I become a mother someday…I will do anything for them. I will want them to accomplish their dreams.” I inhale a deep breath and release it slowly. “But I hope I can acknowledge their dreams might differ from mine. I’ll love and support them, regardless of what those dreams might be.”

I turn and walk out of the barn, not stopping until I’m sliding into my vehicle and driving away from Townsend Manor.

My notebook rests in my lap, a beacon of hope for my future. The plans scribbled inside might not bring me accolades, or trophies…but I’ll be happy. I’ll have time for a life, for friends, and family. That’s the best reward I can think of.

Hank’s number pops up on the touch screen of my Land Rover, and I tap to answer. “Good morning.”

“Mornin, Hattie,” he says. “So, I did some asking around like you wanted, and there’s a decent amount of interest, I’d say.”

I take a deep breath, feeling lighter than I have all week. “I appreciate that. How did you go about asking?”

He chuckles. “I made an anonymous post on the Honey Badger Creek page online. Asked if anyone would be interested in equestrian show jumping if we had a local instructor.”

“Yeah?” I push, wanting to know more about the responses.

“The post got sixty comments. I didn’t realize there were even that many people that checked the page.”

“Wow,” I breathe out. “That’s good news.”