Good.
Let it hurt.
I love my daughter more than my own life, but she needs to understand this wasn’t cute. This wasn’t brave. This was dangerous.
“Put your belt on, Olivia,” Stefano orders. His normally soft voice when talking to my daughter nowhere to be found.
Stefano exhales hard through his nose.
Then he pulls back onto the road.
“I have to let Maverick know.”
“I know,” I mutter.
“He’s going to lose his mind.”
“I know.”
Livy sniffles from the back. “Can you maybe tell him after the horse is okay?”
“No,” Stefano and I say together.
She sinks lower in the seat.
The rest of the ride is tense and quiet except for my phone ringing twice.
Both calls are from Denise.
The second time, I answer on speaker.
“He’s down again,” she sobs. “Mia, he’s down, and I can’t get him up.”
“We’re almost there,” I tell her. “Keep everyone away from his legs. Don’t let anyone get hurt trying to force him up.”
“But if he rolls—”
“I know. Just keep him as calm as you can. I’m five minutes out.”
Stefano doesn’t say a word.
He simply drives faster.
By the time we reach Willow Creek Farm, Denise is standing outside the barn, crying and waving both hands.
I jump out before the SUV fully stops.
“Stay,” I snap toward Livy.
“I know.”
“I mean it.”
“I know, Mama.”
Stefano opens the back door, looks at her, and points two fingers at his eyes, then at her.
“I’m watching you.”
