The Natural History of Us (38 page)

“I'm
the world's biggest idiot.” I laid my head on Oakley's strong, reassuring back and sighed. This was what I'd been reduced to—an openly sobbing, snotty mess, crying on my horse's back because I was too afraid to face my friends.

Pathetic didn't even cover it.

It was only a matter of time until Faith or Cade found me. So far I'd been lucky. Mama was so swamped with work she didn't question me when I said I wasn't feeling well. Instead, she pulled Faith in to helping as soon as she arrived. As for Cade, he was running late for his shift for the first time in his life. Clearly someone somewhere was on my side, but I knew my luck was running out. Once Faith's shift was over, she'd come out here and find me, just like she always did, somehow sensing my distress. She'd take my hand and bring me back to my room where we'd hide out with chocolate and Zac Efron movies like we did whenever my illness got to be too much.

But Cade would push for answers.

He'd always been a good friend to me, but over the last year or so, he'd taken protective to a whole new level. All it would take is one look at my splotchy, swollen face, and he'd demand to know what happened. Once he pulled the entire story from me, I knew he'd take off after Justin. I didn't need that. I didn't even
want
that. All I wanted to do was forget.

I lifted my head and laughed. “Do what scares you, huh, girl?” I ran my hand down Oakley's side. “God, what a crock. Look where that's led me so far… hiding from my family and friends, and crying here alone.” Annie's ears pricked forward and she nickered softly. “Sorry, girl. You know you're awesome company.”

Honestly, for years now, Annie Oakley had been my closest friend. Sure, I had Faith and Cade and even Trevor to some degree. I had the kids in my homeschool co-op and at church. But it wasn't the same. A special bond forms between a girl and her horse, a bond only animal lovers can truly understand. Oakley could read me without words. She felt my moods, seemed to know when I needed to ride fast and furious, or take it slow and easy. Riding her is where I found my joy.

Losing that was the cruelest blow GBS ever dealt.

When I first got sick, everyone looked at me with fear in their eyes. They had no answers, no way of knowing if and when I'd ever return to normal… and what a weird word, “normal.” Today, most people looked at me and assumed that's what I was. I conversed and ate on my own, I had an entire semester of public high school behind me. Only my occasional limp would tip off a stranger that I'd ever been sick at all.

But I wasn't
normal
. I wasn't whole. Riding Oakley grounded me. Rodeo was my home. Other than my family, it was where I belonged, a place where I shined, and it had been ripped away from me. A piece of my soul was missing, and after today, I
needed
it back. Just this once, I needed to do what I loved, because if I didn't, I might just lose myself altogether.

A shiver of excitement danced down my spine as I realized I'd made up my mind. I latched onto that feeling, wanting to drown out the heartache, and walked around to look Oakley straight in the eyes.

“Wanna ride, girl?”

I didn't need Justin. I didn't need any guy. All I needed was to ride. The saddle was my rock, and it hadn't failed me yet.

Oakley pranced in her stall, and a grin, the first in hours, stretched my cheeks.

My therapists were wrong. Sure, they'd worked miracles, were creative in tailoring my sessions to prepare me to ride again, but I didn't have to wait. I could do it now. Hippotherapy proved it, and I very rarely lost my balance on a treadmill anymore. They were being overly cautious, and I got it. It was their job. But mine was getting back on Oakley.

The entire time I saddled her up, I kept an ear trained for footsteps.

Dad coddled me like a toddler. He listened to everything my therapists said, and if he caught me now, he'd freak. Luckily, though, he was still at school. As for Mama, she was elbow deep grooming a family of dogs checking out. A big part of me wanted to share this with her, but in some ways, she was worse than Dad. She wanted me to ride again, even encouraged me, but she refused to believe that I could handle it now. That the doctors didn't know everything. It hurt, too, because she knew how this felt. She grew up on this ranch; the need to ride flowed through her veins every bit as much as it did mine.

Once Oakley and I were ready, I grabbed the reins. My grip was still off, my muscles not quite responding like they used to, but I could make adjustments for that. We breached the entrance to the barn and another thrill of, “holy hell, I'm going to do this,” shot through me.

With a click of my tongue, Oakley and I made our way to the open field.

“Hey, Peyton.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin. Throwing a hand onto Oakley's back to steady myself, I turned and watched as Trevor yanked out an earbud and lifted his chin toward me. “I thought you couldn't ride yet.”

Here's the thing… I hated lying. I hated it
almost
as much as I hated not riding. But even this small distraction from my goal let other things seep through my filter: fear that maybe I wasn't ready; memories of this morning; Justin's cruel betrayal this afternoon.

Lying was my only solution.

“Got the green light yesterday,” I replied. “Just couldn't wait another second.”

“I hear that,” he said with a nod, already lifting his earbud to replace it. “It'd be the same with me and golf. Congratulations.”

That was all it took. Trevor sort of lived in his own world half the time, and today, I was grateful for it. He shoved his earbud back in, bobbed his head, and headed for the doghouse. I hesitated for a second, worried he'd mention this to Mama, but then, this was Trevor I was talking about. If he told her hello it'd be a mouthful.

Breathing deep with relief, I continued on.

I wished I'd brought some music. The quiet was too… quiet. It let me think too much. Every footfall brought another whisper. Of Lauren's thinly veiled taunts. Of Justin's agonized voice, calling my name. Of my therapists saying I couldn't ride yet. That my muscles were still too weak.

That's probably what Lauren thought I was, too. Weak. Justin must as well or he wouldn't have hurt me the way he did. But I'd show them. I'd show them all.

At the field, I rolled my neck back and forth. I breathed deeply, in and out, and put my hand on the saddle horn. I could do this.

Up on Oakley's back, I stared out at the miles of open field ahead, ready to prove just how strong I was. I took the reins and wrapped them around my forearm. That gave my slightly weakened fingers more control. I sat up tall and clucked my tongue.

“Let's ride, girl.”

We started at a trot. My hips rocked back and forth in the saddle and tears pricked my eyes. I was finally home.

Nothing compared to this feeling. Getting it back this summer would keep me sane. Nudging Oakley's flank, I urged her on, needing to feel the wind whip across my face. Needing to listen to sounds muffle under the pounding of hooves. I needed to lose myself.

I was so consumed with pushing my limits that I didn't hear the tires on the road.

The rhythm of the ride enthralled me so much that I didn't hear Cade calling my name.

But Mama did.

Suddenly, they both appeared yards in front of me, eyes thrown wide with emotion. Cade's was filled with confusion, and Mama—her head jerked to the side as panic overtook her features. I shook my head, not understanding what the big deal was… and then I saw it.

Rusty, our feisty boarder dog with energy to burn (and a nasty habit of running free on our property) had gotten loose. He was currently bolting right for us.

I didn't have time to think.

Oakley's head perked up, her feet shifted, and she took off, headed in the wrong direction. Spooked horses weren't anything new around here, but I was rusty. And my muscles didn't cooperate.

I tried to check her, but my grip was all wrong. Oakley threw her head in the air, took the bit in her teeth, and charged. Straight toward a fence.

I attempted to control her with my knees, tried to steer her away from the rail. But my hips were weak and my legs couldn't hold on. As a last-ditch effort, I sat back and deep within the saddle… but it was too late.

Unable to keep my balance, and with Oakley running scared, I fell. Hard.

Pain exploded everywhere, especially in my wrist, and my ears rang with Mama's screams. Someone ran down and grabbed Oakley. Trevor appeared to corral Rusty. Cade dropped to his knees beside me, the pity in his eyes confirming what I already knew.

My body had failed me, in the worst possible way. I wasn't strong.

And I never would be again.

I'm
sitting in my Jeep, watching Peyton like a psycho stalker. I can't help it, though. She's riding again, rounding the third barrel on the course like a pro—a slow pro, but a pro without fear, and a proud smile curves my mouth.

The selfish ass inside me would love to think I did that, that I helped her trust herself and find her strength. But she would've gotten there on her own eventually. Peyton is so much stronger than she ever gives herself credit for. I, on the other hand, am the one needing direction.

The graduation machine is in full force, and because of it, Peyton and I have barely talked. We finished our FACS paper on Monday, said “hi” in passing between finals, and sent a handful of meaningless texts before we both crashed from exhaustion. But I still have no clue where we stand, and time is flying by so fast it's starting to blur. Friday night we graduate, and then it's Peyton's exhibition and the championship game on Saturday. Suddenly everything seems to be coming to a head, and hell if I know where that even is.