Page 71 of Notorious

Kurt tilts his head up at me. “That’s what my therapist keeps saying.”

I chuckle. “I know for a fact that sometimes things need to be repeated many, many times before they can settle in. Speaking from someone deep in the thick of it, his death was not your fault. Period.”

He sighs and cuddles into me. We don’t move for a long time, and I look at him to make sure he’s not upset or nothin’. But he ain’t. He’s just staring out at the beach.

This couch has big cushions, and there’s a chaise lounge at the end of it. I shift us over so I’m spooning him and he’s looking out through the glass, our heads on a pillow. I pull a blanket over us.

“Can I tell you something?” I whisper, holding him close, my lips against the back of his neck, my whole body aligned with his.

“Of course,” he murmurs.

“Sometimes I need this more than I need to fuck.”

Kurt shudders against me. Then he turns around and slots a leg between mine, his arms around me, his head on my chest. He rearranges the blanket so it’s still covering us. “Sometimes I do, too.”

After my outpatient care is done and I feel okay enough to try my hand at working, I start up Kurt’s Volvo one morning and drive to his friend’s house in Hidden Valley. I’m as out of place as an armadillo at prom, because everything’s so, so expensive. Despite being close to Los Angeles, the area’s rural, with acres of pretty, fenced-in fields, oak trees, and a quiet sense of seclusion. Oh, and the houses are huge, with big barns and proper riding facilities.

It’s the first time that Kurt’s trusted me on my own, but I promised him I’d stay alive. And I’m feeling more and more like I don’t want to kill myself. The violins have longer and longer periods of silence.

Mostly I’m just … blank. Numb. I’m not sad, but I’m not happy either. I think the meds keep me from getting too deep, but I’m never unicorns and rainbows either. I’m still battling painful, intrusive thoughts.

I pull up the long driveway where the GPS tells me, and I almost turn around and head back to Kurt’s place. No way can I work here. It’s not for someone like me. It’s too … polished.

But then a wiry woman comes out of the barn, flanked by two dogs. She’s got long, dark red hair plaited into one braid down her back and is wearing a western shirt and old boots. She looks like she’s tough as nails and knows what she’s doing. At her heels are two border collies, full of mischief. Then I see the horses in the corral, and I draw in a breath. They’re utterly gorgeous. Stunning American Quarter Horses with glossy coats and a healthy look about them. They’re well cared for.

I let out a sigh of relief. I might have issues with people, but animals are animals, and I know how to deal with them. Okay. I can do this.

Getting out of the car, I step over to the woman and tip my hat. “Howdy,” I say. “I’m Johnny Haskell. I’m looking for Bronwyn?”

“That’s me,” she says. “Welcome. You good with mucking out stables?”

Despite my generally down mood, I chuckle. Because this isn’t a hazing question. Mucking stables is an essential part of caring for horses. “Sure. Just set me to work. Mind if I pet the dogs?”

“Go ahead.” Bronwyn gestures to the dogs. “The bigger one is Maggie, and the smaller one is Sally.”

“Hello, Maggie,” I say, squatting down so I can scritch behind her dark, fluffy ears. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

She licks me, and I say hello to Sally, too, who’s also a good girl. The dogs hop all over me and lick my face, and it makes me smile more.

The smile’s starting to get less creaky.

I glance up, and Bronwyn nods. “You’ll do.”

“How’s that?” I ask.

“You gotta get along with animals around here, and you take to those dogs like you’re one of them.”

Standing, I hook a thumb in my belt loop. “I may be part dog, that’s correct. Can I meet the horses?”

“Follow me.”

With the dogs at our sides, we walk over to the first horse, who’s shiny in the sun. The scent of hay and horse manure is all around us, but to me that’s as natural as salt in the sea.

“This is Stacy,” Bronwyn says. “She’s four. Her sister Betty Lou is in the stables. I took Stacy out this morning for a trail ride, and she’s had some cooldown time. We’ll need to groom her, then Betty Lou needs some exercise, too. I’ll take her out, and you can muck.”

I nod. “Sounds good to me. How many horses do the owners have?”

“Eight, plus they also board a few for other people, so there’s usually ten or twelve here at a time. Sometimes more. I’m full-time, plus there are some other part-timers. But we can always use more help. Let’s go meet Pepper, Jan, and Lucky.”

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