Page 9 of The Front Runner
Billieand I fall side-by-side onto the couch in the stable lounge. We let our eyes flutter shut while more coffee brews.
I’m so tired that I feel like I’m drunk. The kind of tired that pushes you past exhaustion right into giddiness. I need to sleep, but I can’t. We’ve got a beautiful new filly on the farm that Billie delivered last night after Stefan called me away on the emergency.
Flora had a healthy, uneventful delivery and gave birth to a perfect doppelgänger filly. Dark bay with long eyelashes.
Seeing a happy, healthy foal was the lift my heart needed after leaving Dalca’s farm this morning. Losing a foal is never easy, but seeing how hard he was taking it made it even worse. I’m well aware I’m not a comforting person. I’m not a hold-your-hair-back-while-you-barf kind of friend. I didn’t get the nursing gene. But I do know how to make myself useful, and sometimes that’s an okay way to comfort a person, too.
“Thanks for taking over with Flora,” I mutter quietly.
“Hey, no worries. It was kind of fun. It also never fails to kill any inkling I might feel about wanting to have a baby.”
I snort.
“Seriously, Mira. Something that big coming out of something that small is terrifying.”
“Vaginas are very elastic. You’d bounce back.”
Billie groans. “Ugh. Why is everything so literal with you? You’re like Amelia Bedelia.”
“I loved those books,” I chuckle.
“Speaking of idiot savants, how was Dalca the Dick? He sure kept you there long enough.”
“His foal died,” I say bluntly. Sometimes Billie needs to be sobered up a bit.
“Well, shit. Now I feel like the dick.”
I peek over at her and see her amber eyes shrink-wrapped in a layer of wetness. That loss hits a little too close for her with DD’s orphan baby lying in a stall by himself not a hundred yards away. “You should. Red bag delivery. It was a tough night.”
She grunts and blinks rapidly. “Did the mare make it?”
“Yes...” I say, trailing off suggestively.
Billie turns her head and hits me with wide eyes. “Why did you say it like that?”
“Are you being intentionally dense because of the person we’re talking about, or are you just so tired that you’re not firing on all cylinders?”
Billie is whip-smart. To pretend the first place her mind went wasn’t our orphan colt would be ridiculous. Just ten minutes down the road is a mare with no foal whose milk is in full swing.
The math is pretty simple.
She blinks and nibbles at her lip. “Would you believe me if I told you I’m just super tired?”
I huff out a laugh and shake my head as I get up to walk toward the coffee machine. “Better fix your attitude, Billie. Dalca the Dick just became your best shot at saving that colt.”
* * *
I pullup to Cascade Acres with two coffees in tow. I basicallyamcoffee now. My blood is straight-up caffeinated, and I need it to make it through the rest of this day. Not only am I physically tired, but I’m emotionally exhausted. Vaughn, one of the owners of the ranch, told me to close the on-site clinic and get some sleep. It still means I’m on call for emergencies, but at least I’m not dozing in the new state-of-the-art facility while I pretend to work. I don’t even think I could safely treat a horse right now if I wanted to.
That’s the side of this gig that people seem to forget about. Some days, you feel sad right down to your toes. It’s hard to shake.
But at least there’s coffee.
Sweet, sweet bribe coffee. Because somehow, I’m the one who must waltz out here and convince Stefan Dalca to let us borrow his mare for the orphaned foal. Probably because I’m the only one who is on reasonably good footing with the man. I tried to convince Hank, the sweet older barn manager, to do it. But he just laughed good-naturedly at me and said he’s too old for the drama we “kids” are into.
A comment I resent. I avoid drama at all costs. Good thing Hank is so damn loveable, or I’d have pressed harder. Violet offered to go, but the scowl Cole gave me—like he might skin me if I sent her over here—had me turning her down. That motherfucker is scary when he wants to be. And Billie and Vaughn? That wasn’t even on the table. They bothhateStefan, which is why this situation is going to require some finesse.
So, I gave in and opted to take one for the team.
