Page 1 of Tough Love

Prologue

ADDY

2016

Pre-Olympic Show Jumping Qualifiers

Jewls prances under seat, as nervous as I am. All one thousand pounds of bay mare, lit and ready to go. We have been together every day for five years. I trust her. She trusts me. I shorten the reins and scope the course quickly, one last time. The water jump will be our pinch point before the sharp turn to the triple.

“And our final rider of the day, nineteen-year-old Adeline Howard, with her mare, Jewel of the Nile. This magnificent duo has taken the competition by storm this year, folks,thecombination to watch today.” The commentator talks us up, like I haven’t worked for over a decade to come this far. The early mornings, the broken bones. The losses, some more heart-wrenching than others.

Last rider out is a big deal. In show jumping, they always save the best for last. I squash down the imposter syndrome that has been creeping its way up ever since I saw the order list. That little voice in my head that tells me this isn’t real, I’m not that good, and soon everyone is going to see it.

The horn blows, blasting through my ears.

I shift forward in the saddle, the only cue Jewls needs, and she takes off toward the first jump. I hold my breath.

“And they’re off!”

We power for the jump, and I pace her back a little, pulling back on the reins. We sail over the top rail.

Clear.

I force myself to breathe, pacing my own body as I do hers. Her half-Arabian bloodline pushes her faster than we need some days. The stadium lights are glaring. The crowd waits with bated breath. Only murmurs poke through the heavy silence as they wait for Jewls and I to either fly or fall. This round determines who goes to the Olympics. The next few minutes define other riders’ fates, not only mine.

The next jump is across the damp sand arena, the double. She pops her head. I shorten her stride.

“Steady, girl.”

I’m up out of the saddle as she takes off for the top rail. We sail over and she lands, square.Good girl.

I pat her neck, and we take off toward the third set. Then the next and the next. The only sounds are her hooves, her breathing, my soft words. I glance at the giant red digital clock. Shit, we are behind time. I give Jewls her head, and she picks up the pace. We have run these courses together hundreds of times. She knows every move I make. Knows when we are good and when we’re not.

Four jumps left. We soar toward the hedge. Up and over, her back legs trail through the hedge. She flinches. Okay, not a big deal. We will steady the lead up to the next one. Another double.

Jewls moves underneath me; her stride is jerky. Something’s not right.

I push her forward.

She takes the first set of the double. We land off-kilter, and she makes for the second, too early. We clip the top rail. The crowd gasps. If it falls, we won’t have the points to come in first. I steady her, leaning back to slow her down. I shorten the reins again. The water jump is next.

Jewls tosses her head. Her dark eye flicks to mine.

I glance at the clock. Another second too slow.

My gut sinks.

I push her ahead. A strangled whinny leaves with her breath, but she bursts toward the water. I set the pace and loosen the reins as she launches over the blue plastic wave at the start of the jump. The water on the other side glistens. Jewls tenses midair. I brace for a hard landing.

But she hits the ground with a solid stride. I turn her for the hairpin, and she tosses her head again.

“It’s okay, girl. Easy.”

She nickers, snorting a breath.

Something has her riled up. Her tail flings side to side, erratically.

One last jump.

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