Never Say Never (15 page)

Aiden looks perfect, of course, and the baby horse is adorable. I look at myself again and realize I look happy. His snide comment worked, and I’m staring at him, our eyes locked, like we’re more than just friends. Then I read the caption.

So, I met someone. Someone pretty damn incredible, someone who will sacrifice her sleep and sanity to help the helpless, to give second chances to those deemed hopeless, those who others have already given up on. And this, folks, is what true beauty looks like. #BeTheChange #NurseMareFoals #SecondChances

I look up, blinking, then read the caption again. And again. And again. No, I’m dreaming. I black out my screen and step out of the tack room. No fucking way. I unlock the phone and log back on to Instagram. Yep, that’s really me looking lovingly into Aiden’s eyes, and him looking back at me just the same. And those are really his words typed under the image, and those thousands of likes and comments are really there.

I know right away that I shouldn’t read them. I can only imagine the mean things his fangirls would say, and reading that I’m fat and ugly isn’t something I want to do. Not now, not ever. But I can’t stop myself, and I press
Load more comments,
as if something is controlling me. There are a few broken hearts and crying emojis in response to Aiden’s words, “So I met someone”, since it comes off as more than I’m letting myself believe. But more than anything, there is an overwhelming amount of supportive comments, and I see several people talking about nurse mare foals, saying they hadn’t heard of it before but looked it up. Some even ask how they can help.

I smile and suddenly feel so small. It’s crazy how big of a response Aiden can get from a picture he posted fifty-three minutes ago. Having that kind of platform could raise so much awareness. And it might be even crazier to know that many people are looking at me right now, judging me like I’ve judged the random girls in Aiden’s prior posts for no reason at all.

It’s too much to think about. I set the phone down and pick up a rake, then remember the whole reason I got my phone was to call the vet. I’m shaken from the social media reverie, landing hard into the real world. Likes and comments aren’t going to make Phoenix eat. I call and leave a message for Dr. Wells, then crush up another pain pill and mix it with sweet feed and syrup, but that doesn’t fool Phoenix. I sigh and go inside. I have to pee and need to shower. Sleep would be nice, but with the foal needing to be fed soon, and the acidic ball of worry over Phoenix eating away at my stomach, I know that’s not possible.

I lay the bills out on the counter and hang my head at the end of the day. I refuse to cry over money. There has to be a way to cut costs somewhere. The cable…yeah, that can go. I don’t have much time to watch TV anyway, and I’ll have Lori DVR anything I’m dying to see (like when
Shadowland
starts up again next year). I need the Internet for work, and let’s be real—who can function without it anymore? I could turn off the air. It is hot, but I could manage. I’m at work most of the week, and Chrissy can stay in the barn where it’s cooler from the shade of the trees surrounding it. I’d have to cut down on long, hot showers too. Now I know why Mom always bitched about me taking twenty-minute showers.

The little bit I had set aside for groceries was gone. After talking to Dr. Wells about Phoenix not eating, I drove up to town and into the clinic to get a vial of injectable medication. She gave it to me at cost and it still hurt.

I get up and dump a box of macaroni into a pan of boiling water. I’m almost out of milk, and for a second I consider using a pinch of the foal’s formula. I sigh. Even if that weren’t gross, I couldn’t take it away from her. I sit back down and stare at the impossible numbers in front of me. Frustration builds inside, and it takes everything I have not to crumble up the bills and throw them across the room.

My phone rings, and I snap my head around, anger leaving me. Aiden said he would call, though I didn’t really expect him to…but at the same time I thought me might. He was messing with my head in the worst way. And my heart—don’t even get me started on that.

It’s Lori again. Oh, right. I was supposed to call her hours ago.

“Hey, lady,” I say when I answer.

“Oh my God,” she starts. “You hate me, don’t you? You fucking hate me.”

I laughed. “Completely despise you, actually.”

“I knew it. Now that that’s out of the way…spill! Unless he’s still there. Oh my God, is he?”

I laughed again. “No, he’s gone.”

“You’re killing me.”

I sit on a barstool and look out at the barn. I can see Phoenix from here; she’s still in the back of her stall, head down and unmoving. My stomach twists. “Well, I totally and completely ruined dinner.”

“How so?”

I tap my nails on the counter. I hadn’t told anyone about the flashbacks until last night. And telling Aiden seemed safe somehow. Deep down I knew he would leave and take my secrets with him. He isn’t going to pester me and tell me I need to start taking medication again or sit in a leather chair and tell a shrink my problems. My therapy can be done in a leather saddle instead…if I ever find it in me to ride again.

“I had a breakdown about Mom,” I say, and I feel like I’m lying, even though it’s the truth. “I started crying, and he was totally patient and kind.”

“Skip to the part where he spent the night.”

“We didn’t have sex,” I tell her. “The foal totally cock-blocked him.”

Lori laughs. “Wait. That baby needs feeding every few hours. So he stayed and took care of a baby horse with you and didn’t try to get in your pants? Holy fuck, he is perfect, Haley. If you don’t want him, throw him this way!”

“What about Kit?”

“Meh,” she says, and I know she doesn’t mean it. She loves that man. “That picture was the cutest thing ever.”

“I look horrible.”

“You really don’t. Then what happened?”

My lips curve into a smile. “I fell asleep and woke up to him bottle-feeding the foal. She was snuggling on his lap, and it might have melted my heart. Then we came inside, I made breakfast, and we went back to the barn. And…” I draw out. “He kissed me.”

“Ah! Yes! How was it?”

“It was really good. He’s a good kisser, which makes sense since he does a lot of kissing on screen.”

“You know I’m totally jealous. I always said he was my celebrity husband.”

The foal whinnies from the small paddock. I get up to check on the macaroni; I have a few minutes. I step into my boots and let Chrissy out.

“So?” Lori asks. “Are you going to see him again?”

“He said he’ll call me, but I’m not going to hold my breath. I’m not really his type.”

“I’m glad you said it,” she says quickly. “And I mean no offense. You’re a total catch and you know I’d date you if I didn’t like peen so much. But, he’s a love ‘em and leave ‘em type. Don’t forget that.”

“I know. And I know I’m most likely his entertainment while he’s bored between scenes on the movie.”

“That’s true, but it doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it while it lasts, ya know?”

I cross the yard, stopping outside the paddock. The foal skips over, excited for some company. “Yeah. I kind of thought the same thing.”

“Enjoy him for me, and let me know if he calls you.”

“I will. Talk to you later.”

“Bye, girl.”

I hang up, stick the phone in my pocket, and rub the foal’s head. In life, things can change, things can end, things can
die
in an instant. Maybe that’s the secret. Maybe that’s the key to being happy again. Take life for what it is, live in the moment, and enjoy something
while it lasts.

Chapter 13

I lie in bed, feeling twitchy and restless. Haley’s been on my mind, distracting me from the Skype meeting with my agent, and then my manager. I sent Claire to get me food and something to drink. I ate in silence in my room, unable to stop thinking about the tears running down Haley’s face or the horrid scars on Phoenix.

I can imagine almost any situation and then make myself feel the emotions that go along with it. That’s acting in a nutshell. Being trapped in a burning barn, smelling the smoke and feeling the painful heat…it was terrifying. What I couldn’t imagine—well, I could but didn’t want to—was the guilt she must feel. Haley lived and her mother didn’t.

It’s only noon, but I finish my third glass of Scotch and lie back, staring at the ceiling. I wonder what it feels like to burn to death. What kills you first—the heat or the smoke? How long does it take before your skin melts off and you crumble into a pile of charred flesh and bone? I roll over. Can your skin actually catch on fire, or is it just your clothes? I think of all the things I’ve done—things I still do—that could end in flames. And then I wonder if anyone else has thoughts like these, thoughts of slowly dying in the most painful ways and wanting to know how it feels.

I get up, needing another drink to drown the darkness. Or something more. Something stronger. Something to knock me out and let me sleep deeply enough that no thoughts can disturb me.

Three Norcos and a shot of whiskey later, I pass out in the shower, waking hours later to cold water pouring onto my body. My head pounds and I push up, so dizzy that I vomit. I adjust the temperature of the water, but it doesn’t get warm enough. I clamber out of the shower, body tense and shaking. What the fuck? I shouldn’t feel anything.

My head is in a fog and the light hurts my eyes. I wrap myself in a towel, water streaming down my hair and onto the floor, and shuffle my way into bed. I collapse and bury myself under the blankets, naked and shivering. My heavy eyelids close, and I pass out again, not waking until later that night.

Claire brings me a double espresso and two Advil when she brings me a late dinner. I can see the concern on her face. She’s not dumb; she knows something is up—again.

“Are you all right?” she asks as she starts straightening up my room. My arse is still parked in bed. I’m feeling like shit and don’t want to move.

“Fine,” I say, pushing mashed potatoes around on my plate. The food looks good and smells wonderful. But I’m not hungry.

“You don’t look fine,” she says. “How much did you have to drink?”

“That’s none of your business,” I say. I don’t pay her to lecture me. I don’t pay her to be concerned. But I’d be lying if I said a small part of me isn’t grateful she cares.

“I know,” she says softly. “But
you
are my business.”

I grumble and take a bite of food to avoid answering. It’s fucking ridiculous she thinks I have a problem. I don’t. I can stop drinking and taking pills whenever I want. And it’s not like I have a drug problem; these are prescriptions after all. She gives me another bottle of water, picks out my clothes for tomorrow, and reminds me that I have another interview Tuesday evening, lines to rehearse, and need to hit the gym.

And this is all on top of the twelve hours of filming.

Claire finishes cleaning my room and setting things out for me. She tells me for the fifth time to look over my lines for tomorrow. I can see the worry in her eyes when she leaves, closing the door behind her. I get out of bed and walk to the sitting area of the room. I should go over my lines. I’ve read the entire script twice, but that isn’t enough. I finish the espresso and rub my forehead, waiting for the caffeine to kick in. Dammit. I should have had Claire stay and read over the script with me.

I flip to the scene we’re shooting tomorrow and stare at the page. I look over each word but nothing sticks in my head. I close my eyes and let out a breath. It’s nearing 11:00 p.m. If I’m not going to go over lines, I should sleep. Well, attempt to sleep. Fucking insomnia.

Instead, I get my phone and look at the picture of Haley. I want to call her, but I don’t at the same time. I’m not concerned with “calling too soon” or whatever stupid rules are supposed to be in place. I do what I bloody want to do. I think of Haley, of the way her lips felt against mine, the gentle way she wrapped her arms around me, moving in until her soft breasts crushed against my chest.