Page 21 of Stables

Pain shoots through my chest so fucking bad when I raise my arm, it makes me gasp.

Why can’t Matt just leave me alone? What’s the point of showing up? It’s not like I’ll ever in a million years go back to him.

Is he tormenting me because I stood up to him?

My hands shake as I measure out the tea into the diffuser. The thought of having to look over my shoulder for him for the rest of my life is terrifying.

Next time, he might kill me.

Or even worse, hurt Paisley.

Tears blur my eyes. What would I do?

Obviously calling the cops doesn’t help. I still haven’t heard if Matt got arrested after yesterday.

Maybe I should run?

I don’t even know where to go. Libby still lives with her parents. Besides, I’d never ask that heavy of a favor.

The mortgage on this place is so high, it’d barely be paid off if I sold it.

It still pisses me off that I let Matt talk me into taking out a loan against the property so he could buy himself a new truck.

That he ended up wrecking.

I should get a tattoo that says “sucker” across my forehead, and build an iron wall around my heart.

The light knock on the door startles me out of my head.

Before I can say anything, Libby pushes it open and steps inside. “You really should be locking that, girl. What the heck?”

She smells faintly like the cow barn when she kicks her boots off and sits cross legged next to me on the couch.

Handing me a sweating iced coffee, her head cocks and she raises a brow over one of her bright blue eyes. “You look hideous. How’re your ribs?”

Wincing when the straw scuffs along the fresh scab on my lip, I try to shrug. “Sore as heck. Trying to figure out how I’ll be able to do chores.”

Every penny I have is wrapped up in the breeding and training program I’ve been working on for years. It’s finally starting to show some meager returns now that some of the foals I’ve raised and worked with are beginning to win ribbons.

But I’m a long way from being able to breathe financially.

“Oh, shit—I mean darn.” Libby claps her palm over her mouth and looks pointedly at Paisley.

My oblivious little girl is flipping through a picture book, so I don’t think she heard anything.

“I got some milk in the truck, I almost forgot.” Libby sets her drink on the table and bolts up. “I’ll be right back,” she calls behind her.

“Bye bye.” Paisley looks up and waves.

That makes me giggle hard enough to make my side pang. “She’s coming—”

Libby bursts back inside, proudly carrying a gallon jug. “Fresh from the boob this morning.” She grins, kicking her Xtratuffs off before moving toward the kitchen.

There’s the sound of rattling jars and the fridge opening and closing before I hear the hollow sound of the empty container hitting the garbage bin.

She comes back in and throws herself back onto the cushion next to me with a sigh, then pulls the shoulder strap to her coveralls back into place. “I didn’t think you’d be able to lift that thing for a couple of days, so I poured it into quarts for you.”

My throat threatens to close as tears sting my eyes. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

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