Remember, everyone needs to be on their best behavior today. I’m looking at you Tomás.
-Jenny.
Remind me again of what’s happening today?
-Tomás
The magazine shoot, you idiot.
-Jenny
Right. That explains why I haven’t seen hide nor hair of Beau all morning…
-Tomás
Figures that my brother would abandon me for something like this.
-Candice
35
CANDICE
The daysafter Storm dies pass in a blur. A sweaty, overworked blur. Because from the moment Nathan brings Bubba and Lila by the house as a surprise, I work my ass off. His cheering up gets me out of bed and reminds me that there are horses whoneedme. I work with Brown Sugar, Buckles, and Nico from dawn til dusk, determined to rehabilitate them to the point where they’ll be able to find their forever homes. I post twice a day on the barn’s socials, and spend hours in the evening pouring over our finances. We’re in better shape than we ever have been, thanks to the donations from social media and the anonymous donor who sends us a few hundred bucks a week, but I want us to be even more secure.
Once Nathan leaves Star Mountain, who knows how popular our page will be. It’s clear that he’s still driving a lot of traffic to us, as he tags the barn in a post nearly every day. And even though thinking about him leaving makes me feel sick to my stomach, I push it out of my mind. I just don’t like change.
Nathan and I are still working together every day, and our training together is going better than ever. He tells me about his plans to start a new reining or cutting horse soon, and I help him get to the point where Brown Sugar is happy to let him rideher. They’ve just been on a few easy rides around the barn and surrounding fields so far, but she’s relaxed. She’s finally learned that she doesn’t have to go, go, go all the damn time.
By the middle of the week, it’s already time for Western Horsewoman to come to the barn for the interview and photoshoot, and I’ve been too busy and exhausted to even think about it. I’m pushing myself hard to avoid dwelling on my grief, which is something I’ve had a lot of practice doing. It’s how I’ve survived these last two years. It may not be the healthiest coping mechanism and I may still tear up when I think of Storm, but at least I’m on my feet and doing things.
At the moment, Jenny and I are in the barn, taking care of some early morning chores before the magazine comes by in an hour or so.
“Should we clean up around here a bit?” I ask Jenny. “I mean, for the interview.”
She looks up from the goat food she’s scooping into a pan and shrugs. “If you want to. But I think it looks fine.”
I glance around the barn and try to look at it with objective eyes—with eyes that don’t love it so much. If I’m being honest, a lot of things are worn out, dirty, and rusted. It reminds me of the first conversation I had with Nathan when he arrived. He was quick to notice how in need of upkeep this place is, and remembering that conversation fills me with shame. I don’t want Star Mountain to look shabby in a magazine as big as Western Horsewoman.
“Well, I’m at least going to sweep up a bit,” I say, grabbing a broom. “And I’m going to encourage them to do most of the shoot outside.”
I sweep for a few minutes, and then Nathan comes into the barn, his boots clicking on the ground as he walks. I look up from the pile of hay I’ve gathered and immediately set the broom down and stare.
The man walking through my barn right now isnotthe Nathan Booth I’ve come to know over the last few weeks. That Nathan is kind and funny, and yes, charming, but not in an intentional way. This Nathan is the one who the public, and the magazine, will expect to see. He’s dressed in artfully distressed jeans and a pair of expensive new boots, and his hair has been perfectly coiffed and styled. His expression is roguish, with his mouth cocked up in a lazy half smile. If I squint, I’m sure I’ll see his teeth actually glint.
“Well, you clean up nice,” I say, not bothering to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
“Do I?” Nathan asks, giving me a little spin.
I can’t help but smile—even if he’s notmyNathan right now, he’s still funny.
“Yeah, you look good. Though the boots are so shiny they’re hurting my eyes.”
“Won’t the magazine do all the styling anyways?” Jenny asks.
“They will,” he confirms. “But this is an important interview. I’ve got to look my best from the get-go.”
“Why is it so important?” There’s a challenge in Jenny’s voice and I can already tell this won’t go well.
