Page 77 of Love Me Steadfast
At Rumble Creek, the saddle is waiting just inside their expansive barn, with the receipt looped around the horn. When I go to lift it up, William beats me to it.
“I can carry it,” I insist, jamming my fists against my hips.
“I know you can,” he replies over his shoulder.
Back in the truck, I turn on the radio, and another wave of nostalgia flares in my chest. Not because of the song,which thankfully is not “Rewrite the Stars” or “Addicted To You.” But because of the muscle memory, buried deep. I always played DJ and he never complained.
“How’s Morgan doing?” William asks once we’re underway again.
I look out the window at the blur of dry hillsides sloping up to pale blue sky while the memory of yesterday’s visit chews through my thoughts, sending my stomach cartwheeling. What does Morgan spilling the details to her therapist mean for us and the agreement that holds everything together? How much did Morgan share? Will the care team opt to dig into the details? Dr. Shreve tried with me. If they ask Dad, or Theo, either of them could put the pieces together.
And if they do, everything I’ve worked so hard for will crash land in a ball of fire.
“She’s hanging in there,” I reply.
He glances at me, his intense blue eyes darkening. “How about you try that again.”
I swallow my annoyance. Of course my canned answer isn’t good enough for him. He’s never been the kind of person to skip along the surface. “There’s this thing called privacy laws, maybe you’ve heard of them.”
My snark has the opposite effect, and his gaze softens. “I ask because I care.” After pausing at the stop sign, he accelerates across the Miner Creek bridge.
I lean into the wind and breathe in its thick mineral scent while I think about how to answer him. “She needs to learn how to ride those big feelings she gets, so that she can tolerate them and not reach for the nearest escape.”
William nods. “Think she can do that?”
I release a shaky breath, but the wind is too loud in the cab for William to hear it. “It’s pretty clear what’ll happen if she doesn’t.”
I hate bringing on so much doom, but we’ve been here before. Morgan has to do the work. “I thought the rescue would make her happy. She loves horses so much, and the idea of saving animals fromharm and neglect was something she was excited about. But it’s a big operation. Even though she has help, maybe it’s too much?”
“Have you asked her?” He turns north onto Lakeshore.
“She keeps telling me she’s fine.”
“When you’ve been there, do the animals seem okay?”
“Yeah. I mean, there’s always something broken or a minor emergency happening, but the animals all seem loved and well cared for.”
He nods again, and in the quiet, I take a moment to process. There’s a fine line between taking on too much and too little. Having a purpose that gets you out of bed every day is the foundation of a meaningful life. How do I help Morgan find that balance?
His brows knit together. “What about music? You said she might have sold her instruments. Does she want to give it up?”
I rub my palms down my thighs, grounding myself in the worn denim fabric warmed by the sun slanting through my window. “I don’t know?” It comes out as a question because it’s not clear what Morgan wants yet.
“Do you think she wants to come back to the club, when she’s better?”
“Isn’t it obvious she should stay away?” My sudden anger is like a cinch strap around my middle, tightening hot and hard. My molar starts pulsing, and I wince.
William’s brows knit together. “I can’t just fire her.”
I lean back in my seat. Why didn’t Dad urge Morgan to walk away from The Limelight? Didn’t he see what was happening? “I can ask her, but it’s honestly not a priority right now.”
The road bends around the north side of Bear Mountain. A strip mall rises into view, clustered around a four-way intersection. A gas station, a coffee shop, a small hardware store, and the feed store.
“I’ve listened to those demos,” I say to move the conversation along. “There’s one I think you should book. The rest…pass.”
He runs a hand through his hair and huffs a full breath. “Okay, awesome.”
“Does Dad still have the bookingsoftware?” I ask.
