Candice says nothing, and just stares past me and into the barn beyond, where the horses are awake and making a bit of noise.
“I’ll get Ballantine ready to go and then I’ll be out of your hair by the afternoon,” I say.
I turn on my heel to leave but she says, “Wait.”
Heart in my throat, I face her again, and see that she’s sticking her hand out. “I need to sign that,” she says.
“Right.” I hand over my community service log, and after a glance, she quickly signs and dates it. She folds it and puts it in a sealed envelope.
“There,” she says, handing it back to me.
“Goodbye, Candice,” I say, smiling at her and trying to memorize her features. The slope of her nose. Her expressive mouth. Those eyes that will always remind me of Ballantine. Her long braids, crowned by a black Stetson.
“Goodbye, Nathan.”
I rip my eyes away from her and walk down through the stables, making my way to Ballantine’s stall. The only thing that will keep me together right now is spending time with my horse, and getting the hell out of here. A familiar face pokes its head out of a stall near Bally’s and I see that it’s Brown Sugar.
I pause. I have to say goodbye to her, especially after all of the progress we made together. I give her a scratch on her neck, right where I know she likes it.
“You won’t be seeing me much anymore, Brownie,” I say softly. “I’m sure I’ll be back at some point. But it’s goodbye for now. Thank you for everything. You taught me more than I taught you.”
I leave her be and visit Ballantine in the stall next to hers. He’s not going to be happy about getting back in the trailer, but for once we’re united on that issue. I’d give anything to stay in Star Mountain with Candice, but even if she wanted to be together, I’d have to leave in a few weeks to compete anyways.
“We’re going back on the road again, Bally,” I say to him.
He nudges me, and then rests his head on my shoulder like usual.
“But don’t worry, I’m going to start a new horse soon, and then you can retire for good.” I make a mental note to tell Salvador that we should start looking for a yearling or a two-year-old. If I’m going to keep my mind off of Candice, then I need a project.
I put Ballantine’s trailer boots on, get it prepped for him with hay and mats, and then tempt him into it with his favorite kind of treats. He must sense that I’m in a bad mood, because he doesn’t put up much of a fight. I send Beau a text letting him know that I’m all done with my community service and heading out, but he must be busy with a patient because he never responds. All that’s left is to clear my things out of the bunkhouse, and that only takes fifteen minutes.
By noon, I’m pulling out of the driveway, and Star Mountain is fading into the distance behind me.
39
CANDICE
As soon asI see Nathan’s truck and trailer pull out of the driveway, I collapse. Ending things with him might have been the right decision, but seeing him go still hurts. Especially since he loves me.
Hearing him say that was a shock to my system—completely and totally unexpected. Nathan Booth loves me.
Nathan Booth lovesme.
Thinking about it makes me feel slightly giddy. And then, of course, sick to my stomach because it doesn’t matter. He’s still gone. He still left.
“He was never going to stay,” I whisper to myself out loud.
I haul myself out of my seat and off into the barn. With Nathan gone, Tomás is our only stable hand once again, and he’ll likely need some help with everything. He’s already brought most of the horses outside for turnout, so I pick up a rake and a bag of shavings and get to work cleaning.
When I get to Ballantine’s stall, which is empty, I feel sick to my stomach all over again. I sit down in a relatively clean corner of it, hug my knees to my chest, and give into the need to cry, for what feels like the millionth time this week. I keep the tears as silent as possible, because I don’t need Jenny comingover and asking me what’s wrong. I’ll tell her all about it—about everything—later, but right now I can’t handle it.
In my vest pocket, my phone buzzes, and I pull it out and see that Winnie is video calling me. I answer, because with her, I always do. I never know what crazy shit her parents are going to pull and I have to make sure I’m there for her.
“Hey,” I say.
“Oh no. What happened?” Winnie asks, seeing my tear-stained face.
“It’s fine. Are you okay? How are things?”
