Page 79 of Training the Heart

“Couldn’t find it. So fucking nervous,” she says as we begin to walk.

Late due to missing scrunchie? This woman has lost it, but fuck, she looks beautiful doing it.

“She has to do this today. If she does, we’re smooth sailing into January,” she rambles, biting her lip. “Do you think she’s had enough time?”

Her violet eyes look to me for the answers when she already has them all, but I don’t mind. Being needed by her, I think it brings a kind of peace to me.

“Well, one thing is for certain, she’ll do a fuck of a lot better now that you’ve got the scrunchie,” I scoff, trying to calm her.

She swats at me as she pops it on her wrist before she says, “I’m allowed to be irrational today, there’s a lot riding on her staying on schedule.”

“She’s going to do just fine, Trouble,” I tell her, squeezing her shoulder as we walk.

The air is cold as it hits my face. I see Rowan McCoy the moment we approach the track, already waiting for us too. He signed on with us immediately after we brought Angel home and is our official jockey for Angel’s run at the derby. He’s been exactly what we were hoping he would be, and he and Ivy are working together perfectly.

Turns out they have a lot of the same, what I like to callunconventionalapproaches. So most of the time, it’s the two of them teaming up and overriding my more old-fashioned ideas.

Ivy’s beaming with pride for her baby as Angel gets closer, and she leaves my side to approach her. She nuzzles her, pats her, and speaks to her, just taking a moment to say whatever voodoo shit she thinks will help Angel finally enter, wait patiently, and then spring from the gate on the bell without any mistakes.

Ivy has moved slowly with her training, slower than I would’ve, only bringing her to the gate twice a week, always putting the horse first, never rushing her.

I don’t teach Wade, I guide, she repeats constantly.

I pull my hat up and wipe my brow. With only four days until Christmas, this is her last chance to have Angel stay on schedule.

In my opinion, Ivy is a big fucking ball of nerves when she shouldn’t be. She’s stuck to her schedule with precision. It’s been her goddamn life’s purpose between her regular duties all day and keeping me satisfied at night. Well, as satisfied as I can be. I’ve realized in a very short period of time that no matter how much of Ivy I get, it’s just never enough.

“Breathe,” I tell her as she comes back to stand with me.

She nods, listening, and takes a deep breath.

If I ever had any doubts about choosing this horse—which I didn’t—I surely wouldn’t have them now.

Watching Ivy train her is like watching magic happen right before my eyes. They’re like one spirit, the two of them.

“Should we go watch with the crew now?” I ask her, gesturing to the other side of the track for the best view as I squeeze her hand.

We go to the other side and meet most of my family there. Everyone is here at the ranch for our annual holiday cheer and appetizer night. I take in the bunch as they stand out in the chilly December air, chattering to each other about everything and nothing all at once.

“Let’s get this show on the road, Mama forgot her winter coat,” Ginger says with chattery teeth as Nash and Cole approach from the big house.

“Who the fuck is this guy? Cousin Eddie?” I ask, tugging on Nash’s hat. He’s rocking an army green trapper hat with ear flaps. Between that and his red and black flannel he looks like he’s right out ofNational Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.

“Got some trees in the north field that need chopping after this?” I ask Nash. “Think you can take a break from cleaning the RV and walking Snots?”

“Fuck you, man, I’m in the holiday spirit,” he grunts.

None of it makes sense until I see CeCe and Mabel come around the side of the barn, CeCe in the exact same coat, a smaller version, of course, and Mabel in a Christmas scrunchie that matches Ivy’s, that Ivy gave her as an early gift.

Cole reaches out a hand and passes Ginger his big navy parka.

“Anyone ever told you to come more prepared, woman?” he bites out as she takes it eagerly from him, wrapping it around herself and pulling it tight.

“Why would I need a big uncomfortable coat? I walked from my house to the car, from the car to your door. I forgot we were coming out here to watch Angel dash from the gate.”

“Spring,” Cole corrects. “And that’s a piss-poor answer. What if your car breaks down?”

Ginger thinks for a moment, as if that possibility has never occurred to her.

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