Page 105 of When the Smoke Clears

A wide smile overtakes my mouth. “Ok, totally fair. That’s all I’m asking. And it kind of helps that you see him for what he is. He didn’t even like Colt. They hadn’t spoken in years.”

“That’s good to know. I’ll give you a call tomorrow and we can plan something.”

Following my conversation with Hank and the events of the morning, my brain is fried. I need a creative outlet to direct all of my emotions. So, after I finally get to the store, I end up in the barn, sans any animals, painting a four-foot tall gingerbread house.

The Jingle Bell Bash is in two days and I should’ve started on this sooner, so the urgent distraction is even more helpful given what I’m trying not to think about. I was extremely proud of my Halloween mini-session backdrop. The whimsical, dark lemonade stand was perfect. Having a trailer from the ranch was so fun for the Fall Festival, and my holiday mini-session backdrop turned out beautiful. Oddly, I’m even more ecstatic about this gingerbread house backdrop for photos this week, which is ironic coming from a Halloween superfan.

Once I have the window cut out, I paint the entire piece the perfect shade of brown and leave it to dry.

Sutton told me that Daisy got herself into the hay loft recently. She’s so mischievous. I have no idea if that’s normal for a cow or not.

I wander the space, finding the stairs she must have used to get into the loft, and make my way up. The thick aroma of hay is a comfort, and I work my way through the bales, positive I’m going to come across a mouse or two, over to a cutout window. How the heck did she get over here? Maybe they moved the hay around after.

Sitting on two stacked bales, I pull out my phone and dial Izzy. It’s been too long since we had an honest conversation, and it’s time to tell my friends what I’m going through.

“Hi honey,” she says cheerfully.

“Hi,” I say quietly. “Are you busy?”

“Never too busy for you. Are you ok?” Her voice is soft and soothing. One day, she’s going to make a stellar mom.

“Maybe not as much as I’ve let on.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to add Leah to the call, ok?”

“Of course.” She waits while I pause the call and dial Leah, who answers as soon as I’ve merged the lines.

“Hey, woman,” Leah says.

“I have you on three-way.”

“Oh, this should be good.” As usual, her tart commentary is the opposite of Izzy’s calm nature, but they provide a balanced approach that I appreciate. I know what to expect with them.

“How are you two? I miss you.”

“Same shit, different day.” Leah has a tendency to sweep things under the rug like I do. Things that must be getting more difficult, if her increased drinking is any indication.

“I’m all ears,” I promise.

“Oh no, this is about you,” she says, deflecting.

“Ok, fine. Next time.” I kick my feet against the bales. “I’m sorry I’ve distanced myself from you guys. I’ve been trying to deal with everything on my own terms, but I think it’s clear that I need more help.”

“What can we do?” Izzy asks, immediately.

“It’s not any one thing. I actually think it’s more about me. I need to be more open and ask for help when I need it.”

“Are you having flashbacks?” Leah asks.

“Not exactly. Nightmares. I’ve been trying to make my way back to Nana’s, deal with what happened head on. I found some stuff online about exposure therapy, and since I don’t exactly have mental health services, I’m doing what I can to treat it myself.”

“Hmm.” Izzy’s concern is clear. “What are you doing?”

“Gradually revisiting things that trigger me. Physical or emotional. It’s a slow process.”

“That’s okay.”

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