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“They teach you to try in the navy?” Cole made the sort of scoff only a marine could pull off. “In the marines, we get it done.”
“Yes, sir. I can help.” I stood taller. Why was I letting my fears get the better of me? And not just with the horses. With Avery too. I kept getting ahead of myself, worrying about what was to come and failing to stay in the present moment. “Just tell me what to do.”
“That’s the ticket. And, like I said, these are working horses. They’ve held skittish stars and ill-tempered suits. You’ll do just fine. Promise I haven’t lost a hand yet.”
Excellent news, but there was a first time for everything. And as it turned out, horse whisperer I was not. I kept narrowly avoiding getting stepped on, landing in literal horse shit, needing deep breaths and steely nerves to the point that I was relieved when Cole moved me to shoveling shit.
Everyone’s got their own shit to shovel. Avery had said that, but now, literal shovel in hand, I was willing to believe that maybe my nightmares were neither better nor worse than others’ burdens. We all needed what we needed, and we all had our own mountains to climb.
I blew out a breath that hung in the cold air, perhaps my longest exhale since Lacey and I ended our engagement. I wasn’t broken. Just had specific needs, same as others. Same as Avery. I loved giving him exactly what he needed, and I was going to work on trusting him more to do the same for me.
“Malik, got one for you to walk now.” Cole motioned me and my new resolve over to a giant of a horse who looked ready to eat me for lunch.
“On it.” I hoped Avery was having a better time in costumes, but I doubted it. Later, after I washed the smell of horse off, maybe we could lick each other’s wounds, so to speak.
Chapter Nineteen
Avery
I loved the costume department. Total shocker. Wardrobe had taken over an abandoned storefront, and while sunny, it was drafty and a little dusty. But it turned out that surrounded by dresses, bonnets, capes, and other western wear was a pretty darn happy place to be. And all I had to do was match extras with outfits that might fit, coax them through removing modern items like smartwatches, and sign off before sending them to wait for their scene to film. The hours passed quickly, a flurry of fabrics and excited extras, many of whom had never been on camera.
“This will fit.” I pulled a blue dress for a curvy dark-haired extra. Turned out one of my superpowers was getting a perfect fit on the first try. No one liked coming back for a different size, so I’d quickly mastered the art of guesstimating which dress would be the right fit for a particular extra. “The color matches your eyes.”
“Thanks.” She blushed prettily as she accepted the dress.
“Now for accessories. Your bun looks great, but you’ll want to hide the plastic clip.”
“Do I have to take it down?” She made a sour face.
“You did an awesome job. All you need is a bonnet to cover the clip. I have just the thing over here.” Reaching behind me, I used my prosthesis to pluck a blue-flowered bonnet off the rack.
“Neat trick.” Smiling at me, she pointed at my black T-shirt. “You might be a security guard, but you’re super good at fashion.”
“Thanks.” Keeping my tone modest, I shrugged. “Seriously, though, this is fun. Deciding what colors and fabrics match and watching you all transform into 1800s townsfolk is weirdly satisfying.”
“You’re doing great.” Liam, the lead costume dude, smiled over at me. “You’re the best helper I’ve had in a long time.”
“Keely needs to find you better help if I’m the best.” Now I was the one to blush. “But this is a nice break from checking IDs and equipment inventory.”
“Hey, you ever want a job change, let me know.” Liam nodded like he was serious, but I laughed.
“I’m a SEAL, not a seamstress.”
“Why not be both?” Liam shrugged. “My husband did his twenty in the air force, but now he does special effects makeup.”
Liam whipped out his phone, showing me a photo of a burly, older dude with a barrel chest and bald head standing behind a makeup chair. Then another of the two of them together on some beach.
“That’s cool.” I peered a little closer at Liam, who was short like me but stocky with a pot belly and wild salt and pepper hair. I would never have guessed Liam had a husband. Or the husband had a Liam, for that matter.
Duh, Avery. Of course you wouldn’t. I undoubtedly had shitty gaydar, but still, Liam and his gruff husband didn’t fit my assumptions at all. And damn, they seemed happy. Like really happy. Liam radiated contentment in the middle of all the costume chaos.
