Page 93 of Tough Love

I fling it open, snatching up a syringe, a numbing agent, and a scalpel. I draw up the medicine and inject it into the area I intend to cut. After waiting two minutes, I make a cut to widen the foal’s exit. We wait for the next push. Whimsy groans, her head nodding up and down against the bed of hay she lies on.

When the foal edges closer to the exit again, I don a glove and take his tail in my hand before he can slip back again. I pull as Whimsy pushes. The contraction is huge. His little rump clears the exit and stays when the contraction stops.Good. Good work, Mama.The skin around the exit starts to blanch, over stretched. Whimsy is panting hard. Only the section where I cut is numbed. Everything else must be so painful right now.

Tires on the slushy gravel drive outside the barn track closer and stop, and I look to Hudson.

“Must be your help, Addy.”

“Good. I’ll take anything at this point.”

Another contraction, and Hudson strokes her face as I tug on the foal’s tail. He slips out past his hips as the contraction ends.

“Hello? Help is here, Addy girl.”

Hands tight on the foal’s tail, I freeze.

The familiar voice.

The veryBritishaccent.

Hudson raises an eyebrow and wire twists in my belly, my breaths shortening. I force my eyes shut for a heartbeat, sucking in a long lungful of air.

This is not about me.

He is here to help with Huddy’s mares.

“In here, Adam,” I call out.

“Marco!”

Hudson’s face has slackened. His eyes burn into mine.

“P-Polo,” I force out. When Adam comes to fill the stall doorway, he is loaded up with medical bags. His neat, gelled brown hair is fixed as it always is, to the side. His blue eyes are lit with excitement, his crooked smile pushing the happiness around his face the way it always has.

He is wearing loafers, Calvin Klein jeans, a button-down shirt, and a vest that probably cost more than my phone. He is immaculate and put together, as always. Hudson glances between the two of us. He has disheveled hair, a muddy and bloodied t-shirt tight over his chest that has ridden up over his wrangler-clad hips. His cowboy boots are covered in muck. And the contrast between the two is staggering.

Whimsy, ignorant of the tension that landed like freshly poured cement throughout her stall, groans as she contracts again. I snap my attention back to the foal in my hands andpull with everything I have. This time, it’s a big one, and the foal shoots out. He slips from his mother and onto me, and I fall backward with his rump squarely on my stomach. Afterbirth, fluid, and blood soak into my shirt.

I move him to the side as he starts to flail around and stand. Hands hanging by my sides, hair in my face and covered in muck, I stand staring at the man who broke my heart more times than I can count. And the only emotion I feel is relief. Thank god he is here. Because I cannot letanythinghappen to Huddy’s mares.

Hudson stands and holds out a hand, but his jaw clenches. Adam glances down to it before shaking it tentatively. “You look happy, Adeline. But then again, you always were happiest playing around in the muck and dirt.”

I open my mouth to say something, but Hudson ushers him out of the stall. Snapping from my daze, I drop down by Whimsy’s head and rest a hand on her chest. Taking the stethoscope from the bag by the door, I check her heart rate and breathing. I will have to stitch up that cut. But when I turn back to gather the gear, Adam walks in, sleeves rolled up and vest off. “I can stitch her, Addy. I think your friend needs your help with another mare, three stalls down.”

“What are you doing here?” I utter.

“You didn’t answer your phone. I got worried. So, I came out to make sure you were alright.”

“But why are youhere, here?”

“Your boss said you needed a hand. I told him I was the best equine vet for the job. Literally. So, he gave me the directions. Lucky I got here when I did, baby.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Oh, come on, Addy girl.”

“Nope, no Addy girl. Just Addy. The only thing I need you here for is to keep these mares and their babies safe. End of story.”

He throws his hands up as if to saydon’t shoot. “Okay, if you insist. Here to work. Now, off you go and let me fix this poor girl up.”

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