Youknowwhenyou’rehaving a bad day and then something minorly inconvenient happens—like your sweater snagging on a door handle—and you think,Fuck my life, it can’t possibly get any worse than this.
This is worse.
It’s been days since I’ve cried, but I’m far from okay.
Is it possible to run out of tears?
I think something inside of me is just…broken. Shattered beyond repair.
Each day slips by in a blur. I wake up every morning in a room that doesn’t feel like mine, and in a bed that is cold and hollow and empty, no matter how many blankets I burrow beneath.
I go through the motions, checking off each chore one by one. Feeding and brushing the horses, giving Monty extra love and apple slices. I clean everything twice. Smile when I’m supposed to. Laugh when someone tells a joke—even if it’s not funny.
I’m a ghost in my own skin.
And somehow, nobody sees it.
They don’t notice the way my hands tremble when I see him. The way my chest caves in and I can’t breathe when I have to help him with the horses.
The way I’m slowly unraveling, thread by thread.
I’m not supposed to feel this way about him. That was the whole fucking point of everything.
Now I’m stuck here for another few days, suffocating and heartbroken over a man who hates me. He has every right to.
He hasn’t spoken a word to me. Refuses to look at me. And honestly…I don’t blame him.
I would give anything to rid myself of the intolerable ache that’s taken residence behind my rib cage.
The only place I feel like I can breathe is the barn. It’s mostly quiet, and the mornings have been getting cooler and cooler. A whisper of fall is in the air.
I’m not sure I’ll ever feel whole again, but I feel like I’m falling apart a little less when I’m out here—even with memories I shared with Wesley carved into the walls.
Monty lifts his head the moment I walk in, ears flicking forward, soft eyes blinking slow and easy, like he’s been waiting for me.
I slide into his stall and press my forehead against his neck, breathing in that familiar scent—warm hay, sun, and dust.
“I’m really gonna miss you, old man,” I whisper, brushing my fingers along his neck.
He leans into my touch and I close my eyes, letting myself have this for a few seconds longer.
The crunch of gravel beneath boots pulls me out of the peaceful moment. I glance over my shoulder to find Landon walking toward Monty’s stall, a soft, apologetic smile on his face.
“Hey, um, Wes asked for Monty for this morning’s ride.” His tone is gentle and soothing, probably the same one he uses with nervous kids before they get on a horse for the first time.
“Yeah, of course. He’s all yours.” I sigh, stepping out of the way.
I give my favorite guy one last rub behind his ear before slipping out of the stall.
Not being able to take him out for one last ride is just another shitty reminder that everything is falling apart.
Landon clips his lead rope to Monty’s halter, leading him down the breezeway. I blink hard, trying to keep it together.
I’m reaching my limit of composure when Lane passes by the entrance.
Can’t I just get one fucking minute of peace?
He’s been keeping to himself since he got back from the center—well, he’s been avoiding me, at least.
