Page 50 of In Full Bloom

I stumble as my boots hit the dirt and Katie scrambles downafter me, steadying me. “I’m good,” I mumble, a burn of embarrassment heating my cheeks.

I’ve barely made it to the ute by the time Katie has stripped Scout of her tack and released her into the small paddock beside the house. Her gaze lingers on the sweat staining the horse’s back and I know she’s regretting not being able to give Scout the grooming she deserves.

“I’ll help you with Scout later,” I say as Katie climbs into the driver’s seat of my ute. She looks at me sideways as she twists the key to start the ignition. “What? I need to get over it. You’re right.”

She gives me that eye roll again. “Sure, cowboy. We’ll come back to this when you’re not bleeding everywhere.”

It’s like she’s refusing to believe that I can get over this fear. That I want to get over the fear.

I still can’t believe I told her about Abi. About the accident that changed everything.

I was there when it happened. Abi was sitting on the horse, Sadie on the saddle in front of her. Sadie’s two year old face was filled with so much glee and joy. I snapped a picture as they walked past where I was standing.

Then the horse tripped.

It stumbled, falling to its knees with Abi and Sadie tumbling off. Abi fell clear, but Sadie was still too close when the horse pushed back to its hooves. The screaming—from Sadie, from Abi, from me—startled the horse and ever since, that’s all I’ve been able to see when I go near a horse. That placid pony’s wild eyes and flared nostrils, its head tossed back in panic, and its massive hooves connecting with my daughter’s tiny body.

Sadie made a full recovery. She doesn’t even seem to remember the fall. Physically she’s perfect.

But Abi never got over that day, and neither did I.

Even Aurora sniffing me through the yard railings is enough to set my heart racing and shorten my breathing. I’ve never told anyone here why I don’t go near horses, why I don’t want Sadie riding, and they’ve never questioned me, never pushed the issue.

But the smile Sadie had on her face the very first day Katie arrived here, when she unknowingly broke my biggest rule, has stuck with me.

It reminded me of the expression on her face on the day of the accident. The joy, the glee, the happiness. As much as I never want Sadie to go near another horse again in her life, my life dictates she’ll always be around them in some capacity.

So, Katie will teach Sadie to ride, if she wants to, because there’s no one else I trust more with my daughter.

The drive to town is quiet, and I wonder if it’s because Katie thinks I’m talking nonsense every time I open my mouth. Yeah, I don’t feel spectacular, but I’m not completely away with the fairies right now.

I’m present enough to be fully aware Katie still hasn’t found a shirt.

She pulls into a park outside the hospital. It’s only a small hospital: a few nondescript low buildings, with a couple of emergency doctors and a single ward for minor stays. Anything more serious gets transported to the big hospital three hours away.

“Come on,” Katie says, unbuckling her seat belt and moving to climb out of the ute.

“Shirt,” I say like a fool.

Katie glances down at herself, shrugs and gets out of the ute anyway. She rounds the front of the vehicle and meets me at my door, helping me out like I’m an invalid.

“You’ll be cold,” I mutter as my boots hit the asphalt of the carpark.

“I’m more concerned about your arm right now,” she replies, slipping an arm around my waist. “People see more of me in a bikini.”

I close my eyes at the visual my imagination conjures at the word bikini. Unfortunately, because it’s inside my head, closing my eyes doesn’t help in the slightest.

She leads me into the emergency waiting room and sits me down on the first available seat before approaching the check-in desk.

A moment later, she’s sitting down beside me with a clipboard in hand. I go to take the pen from her to fill in the paperwork, but she bats my hand away, then starts interrogating me as she fills out my information. When she’s finished and after she returns the form to the front desk, Katie returns to my side.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to wait,” I say. She gives me a sideways look so I continue. “I’m sure you have other things to do today.”

“Ah, not really. My boss isn’t on farm today so he won’t be busting my ass about it.”

I huff a tiny laugh. “Sounds like your boss is a jerk.”

She shrugs. “He has his moments, but I think I mostly misjudged him. There’s a little more to him than I firstrealised.” With that, she slides her hand around my arm, tucking it in against my bicep, then rests her head on my shoulder.

---