Page 12 of Stables

And that I’m so damn stupid. Now, I’m paying the price for it.

“Here, tuck this in somewhere easy to get to.” Libby slides my tiny revolver across the end table.

I wish I was as comfortable with mine as she is with hers.

“Thank you.” It’s a stark reminder of what kind of hell I went through this morning.

God, tomorrow is going to suck.

The bruises always hurt more the second day.

“Okay, anything else before I go? Need a cup of tea with your water?” She stands with her hands on her hips and looks around the room, like my own personal Superman.

“Shoo. You’re going to be late. Those cows will be leaking milk by the time you get home.” Flicking my fingers at her, I give her my best smile.

Her mouth twists to the side as she chews on the inside of her cheek. “Keep me posted.” Her bright skirt swirls before she closes the door behind her.

When the sound of her engine leaves the driveway and fades into silence, even Paisley’s cartoon doesn’t drown out the overwhelming sense of being alone.

I can’t even focus on what she’s watching.

My mind floats on repeat with every mistake I’ve made in my life that left me in this position.

Broken, barely scraping by, working my ass off, and trying to raise my little girl.

I wish I knew a way to fix it.

All of the options become a suffocating weight that pushes tears from my eyes.

This is all just so damn hard.

The moment I feel like I’m getting ahead, something like this knocks me down.

Paisley’s head rocks in time with the music on her show, then claps her pudgy hands together slightly off rhythm to the characters on the screen.

She’s why I try.

My curly haired cutie.

“Mommy!” she shrieks, patting my bruised cheek. It sends lightning bolts of agony rocketing through me.

Shit, I must have dozed off.

“I’m sorry, baby girl.” I pull her out of her playpen and press my lips against her temple to soothe her, ignoring the radiating ache in my side.

Fuck.

She’s burning up.

“Oh, Paisley. I’m going to find some medicine.” Fire laces up my side as I push myself up.

I’m pretty sure I have some children’s dose stuff for fevers.

Bracing myself on the cushion, I can’t stop the audible groan that comes out of me when I manage to stand.

Every joint in my body screams at me.

“Come on, honey.” I dangle my hand so she can grab my fingers.

---