Page 48 of When the Storm Breaks
“Glad to see it’s in good hands.”
“Thanks for lending it to me.”
“Owed Brody a favor. It’s no big deal. You gonna help me load these horses so you can get back to whatever the hell you were doing?”
“They’re over in the pasture behind the round pen. Bring the trailer over to the gate.”
Austin nodded and told me it was nice to meet me before he strode out of the barn. Ridge had disappeared a while ago, so it was just me and Brody now. “I’ve got a lot of people coming and going in my life.”
“I can see that. They seem like good people.”
“What I mean is that hanging out with me might mean a lot of people will find out who you are.”
“I know what you meant. But you trust them, right?”
“As much as I trust anyone.”
“That’s good enough for me. Well...” I backed away toward the door. “I’ll let you get to work. I have some calls I need to make.”
Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked out the back door of the barn. I was hoping he’d visit me later.
After I made my calls to my manager, Marcus, then my publicist, I made an omelet and microwave popcorn for dinner, and worked on my music.
When I checked the time, it was already ten thirty. Chances were I wouldn’t be seeing Brody again. I picked up my phone and debated whether to call him or not. Maybe he was in bed already.
I set my phone down on the coffee table and turned on the TV, surfing through the channels until I got to a music documentary about Janis Joplin and settled in to watch it. She was strumming her guitar and singing “Me and Bobby McGee” with Jerry Garcia accompanying her on the guitar. Janis was so fucking cool. Why did all the best musicians have such tragic lives cut short?
My phone buzzed on the coffee table and I smiled when I saw Brody’s name on the screen.
“You busy?”
“Just watching a music documentary. Wanna come over?”
“Can’t. Was wondering if you wanted to see a foal being born.”
I jumped off the sofa and stood up so quickly, I got a head rush. “I’ll be right over.”
Chapter Fourteen
Brody
“Addthis to the list of things that make me cry.” She wiped the tears off her cheeks with the hem of one of my old flannels she’d found on a peg in the tack room. She was wearing it over a tank top, the sleeves rolled up, buttons undone, the hem longer than her cut-offs. “It’s so beautiful, you know?”
I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into me. “I know.”
Shiloh hadn’t been the least bit squeamish when the foal was being born. She’d gotten right in the stall with me to help out in any way she could. Now the foal—a fine little filly that had come into the world an hour and a half ago—was on her feet and nursing while we stood a good distance away to observe so Cayenne and her newborn foal could do some bonding.
Exhausted from the birth, the filly lay down on the straw for a nap. Shiloh yawned again. I squeezed her shoulder. “Come on. I’ll walk you home so you can get some sleep.”
It was two in the morning and I’d only be getting a few hours’ sleep. That’s always how it went on foaling nights. With a final look at the mare and her foal, I grabbed a flashlight from the tack room and walked with Shiloh out of the barn and into the dark night with Buster close at my heels. She stumbled on the uneven ground and I caught her arm before she went down then clasped her hand in mine, training the flashlight ahead of us as we made our way in the dark. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d held someone’s hand. Had I ever? You would think at my age there wouldn’t be any more firsts left to experience but being with Shiloh made everything feel new and different.
The joy and wonder on her face when that foal had come into the world. Her tears when she told me how beautiful it was, as if she’d never seen anything so wonderful before. Tonight, she’d told me about all the places she’d traveled and the sights she’d seen when she was touring. At twenty-five, she had seen the world, had frequented the hottest clubs and had dined in some of the finest restaurants. Yet to me she still seemed so genuine, casually shrugging off her fame and fortune as if it didn’t impress her much.
She yawned again. “I might actually get some sleep tonight.”
“You’re not sleeping?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “I have insomnia. It’s been this way for years. Late at night my thoughts are always racing.”
