Page 86 of Sugar
This time, the flower is purple.
I make good use of my morning by looking for OB-GYN practices within a fifteen-mile radius. It’s something I’ve admittedly been avoiding, but now that Kasey—and Layla—know, it’s time to do the responsible thing and get back on track with appointments. Turns out, there are half a dozen doctors open to new patients. I research each of them and land on the one that feels like a perfect balance between sterile modern medicine and crunchy intuitiveness.
I call and set an appointment for two days from now.
After sifting through some work emails and responding to a handful of new inquiries from current clients, I decide to openthe chain with the partners and reread their last email. Braden, the youngest of them—and the most reasonable—penned a detailed list of accolades and assurances that my place with the firm is as secure as ever, and that just because I’m no longer in consideration for partner, my role with them is still deemed very valuable. They understand my leave but hope it is only temporary and would love to welcome me back to the office as soon as I’m able to return.
I know he’s trying to be nice and soften the blow, but the words rip into me all over again, made worse by the fact that Tobias’s name seems to sneer at me from the carbon copy line.He’sa partner now, sohe’sincluded on communications such as this.Hegets to virtually witness the fallout of a disaster thathehelped create.
It’s a slap in the face. And I’m stillsoangry.
I ignored the last text he sent me on the morning of the wedding, begging me to talk. Quite frankly, I’m sort of hoping his chase will die off and I can go on with the rest of my life without ever having to speak to him again. I know it’stechnicallyhis baby growing inside of me right now, but he made it very clear that he wanted no part of being a part of her life.
Wiping at my tired eyes, I decide to shift gears again. For the next hour, I learn everything there is to know about Texas estate laws, temporary restraining orders, and their state precedent in land disputes. Drafting the paperwork is easier than I anticipated, but I send it to a colleague for a second set of eyes, just in case.
I’m starting to feel a little restless alone in the cabin, so after helping myself to a long bath in Kasey’s bathroom, I pull his shirt back on along with a pair of jeans and my boots before braiding my hair out of my face and swiping on some mascara. I noticed a couple worn hats hanging on the wall in Kasey’s closet—probably older ones he doesn’t wear anymore—and try themboth on in front of a mirror before choosing the brown one. It’s decorated with a plain leather band andfeelsso much like him.
The walk down toward the barns isnice. We’re deep into spring now, and the sun heats the land enough to ease it back into its purpose: plants grow, flowers bloom, and the horses out in the pasture graze, tails swishing lazily behind them. It’s such a stark contrast to the metropolitan bustle of Miami where natural vegetation is hard to come by. The truth is, deep down, I’ve always loved Texas—I just love my autonomy more.
Soon, the barns are in sight, and I spot Kasey in the biggest corral just outside, riding the golden mare he recently told me wasn’t allowing anyone on her. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that it’d be him she learned to trust. One of my favorite things about horses is that they don’t take more than what they need, and they don’t give in to anything that’s not real. There’s no posturing, no trickery. They come to you when you’re in your truth so they can show you theirs.
“Ava?” I turn to find Kasey’s youngest brother, Wells, gripping a stack of boxes.
“Morning!” I give him my cheeriest smile. “Can I help with that?”
“Oh. No, it’s okay, thanks. Are you looking for Kasey? I can get him if?—”
“Nope. I was actually hoping I could . . . help. With the horses, maybe? Or I could organize the barn?”
He grins. “Uh, I’m about to distribute some meds if you want to tag along? Nothing major—it’s mostly just vitamins.”
I nod. “I’d love to!”
Inside the barn, Wells shows me the binder with all the paperwork outlining who needs what. He shows me how to fill the oral syringes with the vitamin paste, and how to sweettalk (and gaslight) the horses with a little pre-dose shot of apple sauce. After the third horse guzzles his once-a-day like the rodeochamp he probably is, I feel like I’ve got the hang of it. Wells must agree, because he lets me handle the rest—it’s a level of trust I don’t take lightly, one that I intend to keep earning with Kasey’s family however I can.
I get through all of the stalls in the big barn in about an hour and then fill more syringes before heading into the second. I’m delighted to spot the golden mare tucked in the back corner, her beady, knowing little eye keeping tabs on me as I work. Kasey must be out with a different horse now. “You finally let him ride you, huh?” I ask her across the barn.
If she answers, I’m not sure of it. But I hope she feels a sense of accomplishment. She’s not on the list for getting vitamins—not every horse is. But I can’t resist giving her a custom shot of straight applesauce anyway, because good girls ofanyspecies should get a treat.
She’s eager for it, like she knows I wouldn’t steer her wrong. When the syringe is empty, she chuffs out a satisfied burst of air. I edge closer to her, reaching out to weave light fingers through her long yellow mane. “Such a pretty girl,” I murmur softly, keeping my eyes trained on hers. Her head dips before she winds her neck toward me, nuzzling her nose into my shoulder.
“She likes you,” Kasey says.
I nearly startle. “She’s a sweetheart,” I say back, looking over my shoulder to where he stands at the entrance of the barn, leaning against a beam like he’s been there a while. “I imagine we’re not supposed to have favorites but . . . she’s mine.”
“Of course.”
I narrow my gaze. “What do you mean ‘of course’?”
His eyes flit to the mare still nudging into my shoulder. “She bucks so fucking hard,” he says. And then looks at me again.
I shrug. “Smart girl.”
He snorts. And then his eyes rise. “You’re wearing my hat.”
“It seems we’re beginning to uncover a new and potentially toxic trait of mine.”
“Which is?”
