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She breathes out a half sigh, half groan. “I can apologize until I’m blue in the face, but you’re going to have to move past this, eventually. Stop dwelling on the past, please? I’m sorry I’m not a perfect mother.”

The only thing I decide to move past at this moment is the fact my mother will probably never be who I need her to be. She’ll never take full ownership of the hurt she’s caused, never try to see my perspective on this…or Hank’s. There’s a certain relief in acknowledging the truth, giving voice to what I already knew to be true.

Kimball Townsend might be my mother, but she’ll never be my true family. She’ll never understand who I am, what drives me, what motivates me.

My mother prattles on about how my trainer has adjusted my schedule to catch me up for the first FEI competition in February. She lists the qualifiers I need to earn another invitation to the Grand Prix next fall. She lays out every expectation for my future, my career…but not once does she ask how I am. Not once does she ask about my trip, or if I’m happy to be home. Just once, I wish she’d pull me into her arms and hold me. Just once, I want her to see me, to understand the way my heart is breaking…maybe even cry with me.

I hold my hand up to stop her from going into detail about my sponsorship contracts. “Mother, I’m exhausted. Let’s finish this conversation tomorrow when I’ve had some rest.”

My mother sighs dramatically. “How could you be tired? You’ve been on vacation for three weeks.”

I blink, deciding not to bother with explaining the emotional exhaustion of the past few weeks. Instead, I trudge up the stairs, into my bedroom, then close the door and lock it for good measure.

I can hear my mother lecturing me from the bottom of the stairs, but after a few minutes the front door slams, and then I’m blessed with silence.

Stepping inside my luxurious bathroom, I get a hot bath started and undress. When I slide my jeans off, my phone falls out, and there’s an unread text message.

My eyes land on the last name Galloway, and my heart skitters. But on second glance, I notice the text is from Poppy…not Lincoln.

Poppy

Hope you made it home safely! Miss you already!

I toss the phone onto my bed. Not until I’m immersed in my bubble bath do I allow myself to break into heaving, earth shattering sobs.

I miss Poppy, of course.

But those are the words I wanted—needed—from Lincoln…that he misses me. That he hopes I’m safe.

That he loves me the way I love him. That there’s no way his heart can move on from what we had.

That he deeply regrets letting me go.

The following morning, I wake up early, ready to reunite with Oakley. I’m exhausted after tossing and turning all night, checking my phone like the pathetic woman I am…but a ride with Oakley has always made my world look brighter, even on my darkest days.

When I arrive at Townsend Manor, the sun is just rising. No one’s awake yet. My trainer isn’t here, and it’s just me and my girl.

She whinnies loudly when I stride up to her stall, dipping her head out to sniff my hand. “Hey girl, I missed you.”

Oakley nickers, nudging me with her snout. I chuckle at her enthusiasm. “You missed me too, huh?”

Taking my time, I cherish being back with Oakley as I brush and tack her. It’s not until we’re a mile into our usual trail that I allow myself to cry, to feel every overwhelming emotion pouring through me. Frustration with my mother, confusion over my career, joy that I now have Hank and Otto in my life…and heartbreak over Lincoln Galloway.

I hate that I didn’t get to say goodbye to him, as he stayed away yesterday. I hate how we left things, that the last words I uttered to him were about a stupid cinnamon roll.

My phone pings, and without even looking, I know it won’t be a message from Lincoln. I pull my phone out of my vest pocket and smile down at a selfie featuring Hank and Otto in the kitchen, breakfast cooking on the stovetop behind them.

Hank

We miss you this morning!

I take a quick selfie, trying to get as much of Oakley into the frame as I can. Then I send it.

Hattie

Wish I was there! Oakley is happy to have me back, though.

Hank