Page 1 of The Edge of Intensity

CHAPTER ONE

– EASTLYNNE –

I breathe in the fresh morning breeze and feel the sun breaking through the morning fog as it hits my face. This might be my favorite time of the day. The faint sounds of nature and the low whinny of my horse, Fletch, lighten my mood as he curls his head around me.

This serenity right here is why I bought this ranch and moved in a little over a week ago. The place needs a little work but has a load of potential, and even more land surrounding it; exactly what my line of work desires.

I love what I do and consider it a privilege to be able to live my dream. My fingers glide over Fletch’s neck. He’s my first, and the only horse I own at the moment. Though, I’ve worked with many. The connection Fletch and I share is why I finally acted on my dream.

My grandfather had a unique approach when it came to training horses. He created partnerships with horses based on their emotional and psychological needs, and using non-verbal communication resulting in mutual respect. He’s my biggest inspiration, following in his footsteps.

My father died when my mother was pregnant with me. My mom moved in with her parents and they were the support system she needed as a single mom. Growing up on a ranch, surrounded by horses, gave me the drive to one day own my own ranch, which I finally made reality.

My mother helped us settle in, but she left yesterday. She practically demanded to stay a few days to make sure everything was okay. I’m not a kid, but she worries about me, so I let her stay for a few days so she can see with her own eyes that I’m doing more than fine, especially since my sister moved in with me.

Now my mom is off to paradise with my stepfather. They will be traveling for the upcoming few months and their first destination is Hawaii. I’m happy for her, and even happier it’s not me who’s doing the traveling. This move has been stressful, and more than enough excitement to last me a lifetime.

I don’t do change well. Hell, I don’t function well at all. At least, not like a neurotypical person. I’m a highly sensitive person which means I process everything in great detail. There are definitely advantages to it, but the downside is sensory overload which results in migraines along with other things like stomach issues and joint pains. I’m also autistic which also complicates social communication and interaction.

You could say my anxiety skyrockets from time to time and my mood is a bouncing ball. It’s yet another trigger that causes headaches. The normal headaches can build up to a migraine, and then there are the ice pick headaches. The name basically explains it; like an ice pick jammed into your brain. That’s what it feels like. The sharp pains can be instant and short, or sometimes longer.

The headaches and migraines started when I was about twelve years old. The list of the “what’s wrong” question is long when it comes to me. I was a germaphobe when I was younger, but I have it somewhat under control now. Though, I do hate it when people touch me or having them in my personal space. I never answer a phone call and would love to ignore the world around me if I could.

I know that’s impossible, and I’m thankful to have a job that allows me to work by myself with as little outside confrontation as possible. That’s also thanks to my sister, who only has a small dose of the crazy running her brain. My mother always said we inherited it from our father.

“Did you have something to drink yet?” my sister’s voice breaks through my mind-rant moment.

I get to my feet and rub Fletch behind his ear. He’s still lying on the blanket I put on the ground for us and stays like that while my sister strolls toward us.

“No, Mom,” I quip, sarcasm dripping from those two words.

Cosima rolls her eyes. “Don’t give me attitude, East. You know a headache is right around the corner if you don’t get any fluids inside you.”

I know she’s right, and it’s annoying. I like coffee, but too much caffeine can trigger a migraine, and I don’t exactly crave anything else in the morning. Most times I simply forget to drink something and only realize I haven’t put any fluids inside me until I have a headache.

My sister is the one who reminds me most of the time, and I’m thankful for her annoying interference. She’s also the one who handles all the social interaction, communication, and financial parts of our business. I’m the one who trains the horses and we both take care of them.

I might have started out as a normal horse trainer, but when I started working with Fletch, I found a challenge in teaching him tricks. Tricks that the movie business appreciates. My sister was the one who got us the first assignment for a commercial and it took off at lightning speed after that.

It’s why I could afford to buy this ranch and, in the future, take on horses that have been traumatized by events or have developed bad behavior, suffered abuse, or have been neglected. Did I mention I love my job? The gratification of taking away the torment in their eyes and making sure they enjoy life is something I will never get tired of.

“What time will the new mare arrive?” I question in order to steer the discussion away from my lack of a beverage this morning.

This mare will become my second horse, one I will buy, and isn’t a foster or traumatized.

Cosima pins me with a stern look. “Are you asking so you can disappear on me? You do know these guys want you to be there when they hand her over, right?”

“I know,” I grumble, and my mood takes a nosedive.

“We met with Weston a few weeks ago.” Cosima winces and adds, “His son will be delivering the mare because he was the one who bred and trained her.”

Oh, goodie, interacting with a stranger. I release a deep breath and try to remember the interaction will only be for a small amount of time. Besides, Cosima will handle the discussion and I’ll ignore everything and everyone around me…except for the horse.

This mare is from the same bloodline as Fletch. I’ve been searching for five years to find a…not so much a replacement, more along the lines of a future second in line. Fletch is getting old and I want another horse with the same character. My search brought me to the Iron Hot Blood Ranch. They breed both Long Horns and Quarter horses and their ranch is a few miles down the road from mine.

When I went to check out the mare they had for sale, I instantly fell in love with the three-year-old. Her chestnut coat and bald face, the white not covering her blue eyes resemble the same markings as Fletch, even her two front legs have matching half stockings. Yes, letting my sister handle the social part so I can get Fletch a young sibling without fuss sounds great. I just have to endure a little head bobbing and that’ll be that.

“I’ll go change,” I mutter and take a step in the direction of the house.

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