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“He lives with you?”
“For the time being.” He changes the subject, telling me the farrier is coming on Monday. “Tell your father I’m having him look at Shadow.”
“Are his shoes ok for now?”
“Sure, you can ride him today. I just need your dad to approve the expense.”
I nod, knowing it’s no big deal. Horses are wildly expensive, but my father has never once balked at the boarding, training or vet bills. Where I’m concerned, no expense is spared.
“It looks like rain, little gypsy girl, so if you plan on riding, you best get a move on.”
I smile whenever he calls me by that name now, but it used to irk me to no end. When I was a kid I was obsessed with some book,Gypsy from Nowhere. I saw myself as Wendy, the girl who gets sent to live on a faraway ranch and comes to rely on a horse to heal her spirit. Sometimes I’d read it out loud to Shadow, using a different voice for each character in the story. You know, to put on a good performance for my animal audience. I think Mr. Murphy got a kick out of my weird behavior.
He made the mistake of calling my horse Gypsy once, and I went off on him like the spoiled little brat that I was back then.Hisnameis Shadow.And after laying down the law, I proceeded to school Mr. Murphy while he did his best not to laugh. Gypsy is brown, not black like Shadow. Andmyhorse doesn’t have weird, different colored eyes like Gypsy, see?
“Ok, ok...I get it, kid.” Mr. Murphy temporarily conceded the win to me, but the next day when I showed up to ride, he greeted me as Gypsy Girl and the nickname stuck.
One brown eye, one blue. A genetic anomaly. Maybe I am more like Gypsy than Wendy.
Gypsy, the girl from nowhere.
And today I ride like her—no form, no rules. I warm Shadow up and then take off into the back trails and hills. I am literally off the beaten path, knowing there’s a part of me that wants to get lost out here in what passes for wilderness in New Jersey.
By the time we get back, we’re both wrung out. My hair is a tangled mess and Shadow is ambling back to the stable like an out of shape runner who just ran a marathon.
Mr. Murphy is red in the face too, but he looks more pissed-off than tired.
“Everything ok?” I ask as he snaps his phone shut. Yes, he still has a flip phone.
“The kid is going to send me to an early grave. If he gets fired from this job...”
“You said his shift is at noon. It’s not even ten-thirty.”
“Lunch isservedat noon. He needs to report to the club at eleven. He’s probably awake and not answering his phone just to be a pain in my arse.”
“He’s workinghere?”
Murphy nods. “If you spot a kid covered in tattoos with his hair tied up in man bun, that’s him.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Tattoos? Tell your nephew to roll his sleeves down in the dining room. Some of the members won’t be too keen on the ink.”
“IfItell him to roll his sleeves down, he’ll be sure to wear a tank top.”
“What’s his name?”
“Liam.” Mr. Murphy takes the reins from me. “He’s about your age, I think.”
“A senior in high school?”
Mr. Murphy sighs as he shakes his head. “Well, hewouldbe a senior if his mother didn’t let him drop out of school two years ago.” Handling Shadow with care, he lifts each foot to inspect the shoes. “Looks good. I was getting a little worried...You were out for a long time.”
“I won’t ride him again until he’s ready.”
“Tuesday.”
Both of us turn when someone clears their throat, loud and angry. His eyes are laser focused on Mr. Murphy as he holds up his phone asking, “Six messages? What’s that about?”
Andmyeyes? Oh, they are currently laser focused on the brooding hottie standing before me.
