Page 76 of Growing Into Love

“I’m glad you think so. This sport is full of snobby jerks. Grace has gotten a lot of crap about Piglet. Twelve-year-olds can be mean.”

“Tell me about it,” I say. “I’ve been competing since I was ten—my family runs a farm so I didn’t fit in the posh girls’ circles. They used to make fun of my secondhand kit.”

“Those little twerps,” the woman says.

I laugh. “Well, I made it here, so they can take their expensive gear and shove it.”

“Oh, are you in the competition?”

“Yeah, I’m jumping in the Grand Prix tomorrow.”

“Holy shit!” the woman exclaims. “Oh my god, could I introduce you to my sister? She’d love to meet a professional jumper who isn’t a total asshole.”

“Course, I’d be glad to meet her,” I say. “I’m no pro, though, only an adult amateur.”

“You’re competing in the Grand Prix,” the woman says. “That’s really impressive.”

I blush.

“She’s going to win, too,” Jaz pipes up from my other side. “And start a horse sanctuary at her family farm back in England.”

“Jaz,” I say, embarrassed. But the woman seems delighted.

“What? No way. That’s amazing! Oh, Gracie is going to love you. She’s not a very good jumper,” the woman says, lowering her voice. “But she loves animals so damn much and she’s really gotten into riding this past year. She was over the moon when she qualified for the Classic.” The woman gazes at her sister, her face full of love and pride. “Grace has a hard time making friends. Being on a horse is where she feels happiest.” She covers her face with one hand. “Shit, I’m sorry, that was a huge overshare.”

“It’s fine,” I reassure her. “Being on a horse is where I feel happiest too.”

The woman smiles at me. “I’m Isla, by the way.”

“I’m Cass, and this is Jaz.”

“Nice to meet you guys. Oh! It’s starting.”

We settle in to watch Grace’s class. I can definitely see how Grace could benefit from some more training—she pops up out of the saddle too much and doesn’t keep her eye on the next jump the way she should. Piglet is not a natural jumper. But she doesn’t make any faults and when they finish the course, she looks so proud of herself.

I feel a pinch of nostalgia. I remember when jumping was just for fun, when I didn’t take it so seriously or put so much pressure on it. When it was about the feel of the horse beneath me as we sailed through the air.

Grace places fifth out of seven competitors but Isla whoops like she won the Grand Prix. “That’s her best placement yet!” Isla tells us, grinning. “She didn’t come last. Oh, I’m so freaking happy for her!”

There’s something so pure in the way Grace runs up to Isla, her face glowing, holding her number five ribbon like it’s first place. Isla squeezes her tight and then brings her over to the stands to introduce us.

“Hi,” I say. “I’m Cass. I’m a jumper too. I love your horse.”

Grace’s features are broader than Isla’s, but her green eyes are exactly the same.

“Other kids make fun of Piglet,” she says.

“Other kids are wankers,” I tell her. “People make fun of my horse too because she’s not a fancy breed. But Gal and I are going to win the Grand Prix tomorrow, just wait and see.”

“You’re jumping in the Grand Prix?” Grace asks.

“Yup.”

Grace’s eyes widen. “Can I meet your horse?”

“Course you can,” I say. I glance around. “Where’s your trainer?”

“I don’t have one,” Grace says.

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