“Can I pet him?” I ask. “I’ve never been around horses.” He reaches his hand over the opening, and the horse comes right over. He takes my hand and places it on the horse’s neck. “Look, Finn,” I say. “Horsey.”
Finn doesn’t seem too impressed by my bravery, simply sticking his hand in his mouth. “Be a few years before we can get you up on a horse,” Tom says, taking Finn’s hand. “We had Clay up by the time he was four. Now he’s winning ribbons all over the state.”
“Granddad,” Clay mumbles, walking toward his grandfather. He glances over at me, smiling.
Tom throws his arm around him. “I’m just proud of you, kid.”
“We should get back,” Catrine says. “Have a great weekend.”
“You come by anytime you want a ride,” Tom says.
We turn, walking back through the stables. “I think somebody has a crush on you,” Catrine says.
“Tom’s more interested in the horses, I think.”
“Not him,” she says, laughing. “Clay! The poor boy was almost drooling.”
“The only one drooling was Finn. Besides, he’s what? A senior in high school?” I ask, not that it matters. I’m not interested.
“Freshman in college,” she says. “Besides, aren’t you only twenty?”
“Yeah, and with a baby,” I say, hiking Finn up on my hip.
“Clay’s cute,” she presses, bumping my shoulder lightly.
“Again, baby on board.”
She laughs. “Okay, so you like ’em older.”
I pause in my step for a second. Did Jon tell her about Slade’s father? Did Slade? But she simply continues walking and talking. I think she was just making a joke. At least I hope so.
Her phone dings, and she pulls it out. “Speaking of older men. Slade.”
Slade’s hardly older. He can’t be more than thirty. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, he’s not coming in this weekend.”
“Oh, did he say why?” I ask.
She shakes her head. In the pit of my stomach, I wonder if it’s me.
CHAPTER SEVEN
PAIGE
I’ve had this whole big house to myself for two days, and it’s felt like years. Partly because it’s rained on and off the entire weekend, so we couldn’t really go outside. I’m nervous enough to drive his Mercedes in beautiful weather, so I wasn’t about to go for a joyride in a monsoon, leaving us stuck inside. And while I love Finn, he’s not exactly good conversation.
This thing is, I don’t do relaxation well. I’ve been stressed out for so long, I don’t know how to just sit and do nothing anymore. I think that’s why I can’t sleep. I’m used to worrying myself to sleep, and here, there’s not a whole lot to worry about. Sure, I can worry about stupid little things, like my hair or if a certain celebrity couple is really breaking up, but nothing compares to my worries before, like how we are eating or how I would pay for Finn’s checkup. Those are the worries that exhaust the mind, body, and heart.
Most women my age worry about guys and clothes and careers. My job is set, my clothes could use some work, and the only guy in my life is Finn, who’s presently lying on my chest as I veg out to my favorite channel. He had a big day today. He actually crawled a little. I screamed so loud, I probably scared him so much he’ll never do it again. Granted, it was just a few inches, but it’s one for his baby book. I wrote it down and took a picture of him on my new phone. We had a celebratory dinner of mashed banana, then he conked out.
I wipe my face. Today was a happy day, so I shouldn’t be crying. I should be calling my family and telling them, bragging to my friends, sharing this big news with somebody, anybody, but there’s no one. I thought to text Catrine but felt silly.
Picking up my phone, I see only one other person in my contact list.
And something tells me he couldn’t care less.
*
After another restless night, Finn and I are up with the sunrise. The rain has stopped. It’s a new day. At my old place, we never played outside. We didn’t have a park nearby, not that it would’ve been safe anyway.
It’s time to start some new habits. My plan is to go for a walk, see the horses, or maybe even explore the woods every morning before Catrine shows up and the workday begins. We’re usually up early, and Finn loves it outside. I haven’t done this enough with him.
Grabbing an apple from the refrigerator, we head out to see the horses. I open the back door, and the loudest, most aggravating sound I’ve ever heard fills the house. Finn starts screaming, and I hold his head to my chest, attempting to protect his little eardrums from exploding. Slade wasn’t kidding with this house alarm system. It could wake the dead.
Rushing to the alarm panel on the wall in the other room, I enter the code to disarm the damn thing. The blaring sound stops, and I blow out a deep breath, giving Finn a little kiss on top of his head. Shaking my head, I don’t remember arming the system last night, but perhaps the sleep deprivation is getting to me, and I just don’t remember doing it.
Settling myself and Finn, I wait for a few minutes to see if the security monitoring company calls. I think I deactivated it quick enough that they won’t call, but it’s best to stick around and make sure. The last thing I need is for the police to show up.
After a few minutes, I say to Finn, “Let’s try this again.”
With the apple in my pocket, we head to the stables. The weekend rains have left the ground wet and muddy, soaking my tennis shoes. A slow fog rolls over the land. The morning sun calls it back, seemingly disappearing with each step we take, like a curtain being pulled back. It’s quiet, calm. Even the horses aren’t making any noise. Whiskey is the first to poke his head out of his stable. His big brown eyes look like they’re happy to see me. Only Finn has ever looked at me that way in the morning. “He must smell our apple,” I say to Finn.
We step closer. I’m still a little scared, having never been around animals much. And Whiskey’s huge. You see horses from a distance or on television, and you have no idea how big a horse really is.
Slowly, I lift my hand, making sure to keep Finn angled away. There’s no one else here this morning to guide me, so I’m extra careful. Whiskey simply lowers his head and waits. I bring my hand down to pet him, and he stays completely still as though he can sense my nerves. Even when Finn starts to wiggle and coo, Whiskey doesn’t move. It’s only when I move back that he lifts his head.
Taking the apple from my pocket, I’m unsure how to feed it to him. I stare down at it for a second, remembering what I used to do for a piece of fruit. Now I’m about to give it to this horse. Reminding myself that was my old life, I simply drop the apple to the ground in Whiskey’s stable.
“Not really supposed to do that,” a voice says behind me.
Startled, I turn, seeing Clay walking toward us with a saddle on his shoulder. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”
“I won’t tell,” he says, grinning. “They’re all on strict diets, especially this guy. He’s being bred soon.” I give him another nod before starting to head out. His eyes stay on me as I walk toward him. When we pass, he says, “Paige, right?”