"You know the thing that sucks about having you as a best friend?"
"Absolutely nothing," she says with a smile before I finish.
"You know me too well," I answer.
"Which means you were thinking about him, weren't you?" I close my eyes, hating that I can't get out of this cycle, hating myself for not being able to let go. "I had a feeling those wide-open spaces might be triggering, that they might remind you of Willow Creek, but babe, it's okay to hurt. Sometimes, letting it hurt is the best way to let it go. Losing London hurt us all."
God, her comment makes it hard to swallow. I wasn't the only one London cut out of his life when he went to prison. He cut off ties with Sydney and Fisher too. It's yet another reason I feel selfish in my pain. Not only did I cause this, but I'm also the one who keeps it alive by not moving on. I count to three, do what she said, and let it go.
When I open my eyes, I say, "I think I'm going to check out the bathtub and go to sleep early."
"It's only seven o'clock. What are you, suddenly thirty-five?"
"Funny." I roll my eyes. "You know I get up at 5 a.m. to tend to the horses. But horses aside, do I need to show you that tub again? Seriously, it's probably been at least four years since I've soaked in a tub."
There are no tubs in the dorms, and even if there were, I wouldn't dare use one, and the condo Sydney's family has been letting us stay at during the summer doesn't have one either. Instead, it had one of those six-head steam showers, which was heaven after riding, but not the same.
"I'll let it slide this time," she says over the rim of her wine glass. "But when I visit, there will be none of that. We are going to whoop it up. I want to do the Bourbon Trail, so don't go to any of the local distilleries without me."
"I won't," I say, getting off the bed and heading to the en-suite to start my bath.
"Have you talked to your mother?"
"Nope," I pop the P to accentuate my lack of interest in discussing the topic.
My mother and I used to be close. That changed after everything happened. I don't put all the blame on her. I know it takes two people to let a relationship fall apart, but I'm not sure how she expects to have one with me when she moved back into our old house.
Before everything happened, she planned to follow me wherever I chose to go to school, picking up and moving the way we had always done. But when I left California, she didn't follow me to Kentucky.
Instead, she transferred back to Willow Creek—moved into the house she had never sold—with a bedroom that held a portal to alternate endings I spent countless hours dreaming about. My mother had to know I wouldn't come back, and part of me wonders if that wasn't why she did it.
"Got it. Sorry for bringing it up. I just thought maybe with the semester being over, she would have called, and maybe you would have answered," she replies with a hint of hope in her voice.
"You didn't ask if she called." I set the phone on the vanity and kick off my shoes before flipping my head upside down to gather up my long hair and knot it into a high bun on top of my head. "She did." I stand up and secure the bun, tucking in the flyaways. "I don't have anything to say, or if I do, I don't have the right words." I let out a long breath and bring my eyes back to the phone. "Unless you want to see me get naked, I'm going to get off now."
"One, I've seen you naked, and two, I'm not entirely opposed to it. It would be the most action I've seen in months. I'm so ready to be done with school. Two more tests, and I'm out. Fuck getting my master's. It's not like my dad isn't going to give me a job."
I start pulling off my socks. "True, but you weren't ever interested in getting your master's to please him. It was for you."
"Gah, don't remind me. Okay, I'm getting off now. I liked talking better when we were talking about your stuff, not mine."
"Bye," I laugh as I reach to click off the phone, and she blows me a kiss.
"Let it go," I whisper, the mantra dissolving into steam as I approach the bathtub. Stepping in, I close my eyes and sink beneath the surface, letting the words wash over me. "You sulked, you let it hurt, and this is your fresh start. Tomorrow, you'll wake up and start living the life you've been working toward." I take one more cleansing breath. "Now, open your eyes, Laney. This summer is going to be different. This summer, you're going to live again."
I ranuntil my lungs were on fire, until I thought I might collapse. I had no destination; I just needed to run. When I woke up this morning, I had this anxious energy in my bones. Maybe it was being in a new place, or perhaps it was the act of mindfully letting go of the things out of my control. All I know is at 4 a.m., I was out the door, ready to take the world by the horns. My legs feel like putty, and if I'm not careful, one misstep in the gravel as I head toward the stables, too anxious to see the horses in the first light of morning before dressing, I'm liable to face-plant. But the way I feel right now, I'd welcome the sting. Today's a good day, and it's only about to get better.
As I approach the entrance, my legs muster up the energy to pick up the pace. I've been dying to go inside since we pulled up last night. The scale of the barn is impressive. The doors alone are at least twenty feet tall, with a massive set of medallion door knockers extending every bit of four feet. But the outside could never have prepared me for what I'd find inside. I've seen exceptional barns, living in Louisville, and deciding to go into EquineAssisted Therapy, I've seen more than my fair share of luxury stables, but this place is next level.
The entire interior is flanked in cedar, the ceiling spanning at least another ten feet above the doors with peaked skylights running down the middle of the barn, drenching the walls with natural light. Iron chandeliers hang beneath the timber trusses, tying in the black stall doors. It's a showstopper, for sure. I can't believe this is their private residence. Then again, I suppose when you're breeding Thoroughbred racehorses, charging hundreds of thousands for a horse, you need to have facilities worthy of the horse.
My eyes connect with a black stallion. He looks like one of the horses I saw in the pasture when we pulled up, though I'm sure it wasn't him. If he's in here, then he wasn't out there. Unless a racehorse is getting its daily workout or working with its trainer, it's not typically let out to run freely. When they're in their stalls, the trainers can monitor their diets and health and minimize their risk of injury.
I glance at his nameplate. "Hi, Duke," I speak calmly and raise my hand slowly, letting him see and smell me before scratching the small star between his eyes. "Are you having a good morning, buddy?"
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a deep voice from behind startles me.
"Jeez." I huff, running my hands down the sides of my joggers. "You scared the shit out of me."
