Page 65 of Heartstrings & Horseshoes

Studmuffin: I’m in town for Reid.

Studmuffin: Fuck. I’m on my way.

Studmuffin: Stay away from her, Delilah. I mean it.

Me: The guys have it under control, I think. But she and Izzy might try to kill each other if they get the chance.

Studmuffin: Take Iz to the main house and wait for me there.

I tuck my phone away and against my better judgment, disobey Connor and approach my mom. I’ve always been the one to talk her down from her benders or redirect her rage.

I walk past a protesting Izzy, again held back by her fiancé, past a fuming mad Greyson, to stand beside James. I assure him I’ve got this, and he backs away a few steps.

In the absence of these three men’s intimidation, my mom settles a touch.

“What are you doing here, Mom?”

“You little bitch. That’s all you have to say to me after you abandoned me?” she slurs.

“I’m just asking you a question, I’m not judging you or attacking you. Okay?” I try to soothe. She mumbles nonsense and resumes pacing the aisle.

“We can’t help if we don’t know the problem,” I say. Izzy scoffs loudly because the last thing she cares about is helping our mom.

“Here y’all are, fat as pigs, eating like kings at this godforsaken ranch, while I starve to death in that freezing cold trailer.” Her words hit their mark. She always complained how much Izzy and I ate, which in reality, was barely anything at all.

I’m sucked back in time to living in that trailer, suffering through her beratement.

There’s no winning with her. Some people will never be happy, and they want nothing more than to make everyone around them as miserable as they are.

Losing my patience quicker than I used to, I ask, “What do you want?”

She’s not used to me talking back or standing up to her.

“You stuck-up cunt. You and your whore of a sister will open your legs for anyone for a free meal, but don’t bother sharing any of your good fortune with the woman who raised you.”

“Raised us?” Izzy shrieks. “We raised ourselves, Ivy. Why should we help you when all you ever did was neglect us?”

She and Mom get into a screaming match and all three men jump in to deescalate the situation.

No good will come of this. All I can do is walk back to my car and wait for Connor.

I don’t have to wait long. A knock on my window scares the shit out of me. My door’s wrenched open and warm hands envelop my tear-stained face.

“What’s going on? Are you okay? Fucking Ivy…” Connor trails off, furious as ever.

“Come on, let’s get you inside. I bet Mrs. Andersen left some of her baking around.”

I follow him inside like a zombie and plop down at the kitchen island. Connor bustles around the kitchen, comfortable in the space from spending so much time here. A plate slides in front of me, but I don’t look at it.

“I’m going to take care of this. I refuse to let her hurt you anymore,” he says resolutely.

A kiss on my temple and he’s gone to save the day like he always has.

I roll his words around in my muddy head. His love clashes with my mom’s hatred and I want to stick an ice pick through my head to stop the voices—Connor’s, my mom’s, Izzy’s, and my own, battle to be heard above the others.

The kitchen window frames rolling pastures yellowing from the below-freezing temperatures overnight. My pulse jumps as my eyes focus on the beautiful black and white paint horse in the distance. As Hope grazes, I center myself and for the first time, my voice wins out over the rest.

I refuse to let Mom take from me anymore. She took my childhood, my confidence, and my health. The plate sitting on the island in front of me holds a thick slice of homemade banana-walnut bread, the crust dyed from the berries Connor spooned next to it.