SATURDAY, JUNE 14
Sweat drips from my brow,stinging my eyes as I swipe it away, but the discomfort is just a blip on my radar compared to the all-consuming, excruciating pain radiating through my joints.
I have six days to get this place ready.
Six days to prove to myself and this town I still belong here, that I can do this. That I can make my dreams here a reality.
When we picked the date for the soft opening, it felt like I had forever to get everything done, but now that it’s rapidly approaching, that is so far from the case.
My paint-covered hands hang loosely at my sides, my muscles quaking with fatigue as I stare up at the outside of the barn, red drips drying in an unruly disarray down the side.
I squint up at the massive structure, the sun’s rays burning my retinas.
It looks better. The inside is nearly complete, and Ryder and Harlan are planning to hang the mirrors tomorrow, but amIready? Can I truly teach like this, with my body threatening to fall apart around me? Is it worth it?
My shoulders sag, chest heaving as I drag in a pained breath, sliding to the grass beneath me, roots thick and painful against my sensitive skin.
I’ve never wanted anything more than to dance, to teach others about what makes each style so uniquely beautiful and magical, but maybe Russ and his family were right. Maybe I need to accept this dream was just a childish endeavor, never meant to be a career.
My phone vibrates in my back pocket, startling me enough to distract me from my downward spiral, even if just momentarily.
I answer it, bringing the speaker to my ear. “Where are you? Bee andTitiare gonna watch Isabela for a couple of hours while we go into town.”
“Hello to you too, dearest,” I snark back. “I’m at the barn, same as I have been every afternoon at this time.”
“I don’t know what crawled up your ass and died, but you better get it out before I get there. You’ve got approximately seven minutes,” Mayte says before hanging up without enough time for me to apologize.
I don’t wait for her to get here, opting to call her back immediately. “When someone hangs up on you, it usually means they’re annoyed with you and need a minute,” she grunts.
“I know, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m exhausted and in pain. It’s not an excuse, but it’s all I’ve got,” I tell her.
“I’m here. You can apologize properly by buying me a pastry on our way into town,” she says at the same time I hear the roar of her Jeep as she pulls up the side of the wildflower-covered hill. “Get in, loser!” she shouts through her rolled-down window, a wide grin plastered across her face that makes me feel about a million times better.
We spend the rest of the afternoon eating baked goods and gathering supplies for the cleansing ritualsMamiandTiaMariataught us as teens. It’s no small feat, seeing as Latine-owned businesses are few and far between out here, but we make do with raidingMami’scabinets.
If there’s anything my little pity party taught me this afternoon, it’s that something can only tear me down if I let it. I refuse to let the shadow of my ex make me feel bad about myself. I’m determined to cleanse my body, mind, soul, and home of all thisenergía pesada.
Mayte parks her lime-green Jeep beside the large chicken coop. “How many eggs do we need?”
“The egglimpiajust requires one egg per person we’re cleansing, but we should try to get a few extra in case we break any before we’re supposed to.”
“Got it,” I say, unlatching the tiny metal lock on the coop. “Hello, ladies,” I say, speaking directly to the hens.
They squawk and flap their wings, feathers flying all around us as they leave their perches. I tiptoe around their water and food, careful not to step in too much poop, and find myself at the end of the row. Mayte and I look in each nesting box, coming up almost empty.
My shoulders sag as I grab just one from the second-to-last box. “Only one,” I say, pouting.
Mayte leans over the last box, squinting to see inside. It’s dark since it’s a corner box, so I turn on my phone flashlight and shine in it. She screams, jumping a foot in the air, and runs straight out of the coop. “What the hell, Mayte!” I yell at her, turning my attention to the box.
A brown-and-tan rat snake lies inside, coiled around the eggs. Its little tongue flickers at me, and I’m out of there before you can saypinga.
I suck in a breath, holding the single egg, and close the latch on the hutch. “I don’t know that snake’s name, but whoever the hell she is, she can keep them. Those are her eggs now.”
“Sure are,” Mayte agrees. “You keepthat one though. You need it more than anyone,” she tells me as we walk to her Jeep. I’m careful not to squash the egg as she drives me home, dropping me off in front of the cottage.
Ryder meets me on the steps, pressing a kiss to my forehead. He holds the door open for me as I pass through. “You find everything?”
“Yeah, but there’s a snake in the chicken coop. It’s just a rat snake, but it’s holding my eggs hostage,” I tell him.
