“But for now, what do you say we get you up on that horse?”
I swear, it’s enough to give a girl whiplash. But, he is giving me an out from the conversation, and, like it or not, I do need his help if I want to save our ranch. So, ignoring the hand Justin holds out to me, I nod and waltz past him.
“We can try,” I reply, ignoring the possible double meaning to his words.
It’s not truly until Oakley’s ready and it’s time to head out for the course that nerves explode in my stomach. What if Justin can’t help? What if the same exact thing that happened last time happens again? A repeat may just break me.
“Hop on,” Justin instructs with a tap of his fingers on the saddle. “I’ll walk you out.”
My body freezes with one boot in the stirrup. “You’re not going anywhere… are you?”
He smiles gently. “No, Sunshine, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here until you kick my ass to the curb. But let’s take this one step at a time, all right?”
I nod, swallowing hard, and swing my other leg over Oakley. Gripping her with my knees, I lean down and lay my cheek against her chestnut mane. “We’ve got this.” She whinnies softly in reply and I say, “Forget about last time. Or the time before that,” I add, stopping that flashback before it can even begin. “Today’s a new day.”
Please, Lord, let it be a successful new day.
As Justin begins leading us outside, I go through a mental checklist of what I need to do. It’s heartbreaking in so many ways—what used to feel as natural as breathing, and every bit as necessary, has somehow turned into this… an obstacle to conquer. As we approach the barrels, I almost can’t bring myself to look at them, but eventually I do. I can’t let the fear win out this round. Not with Justin’s too perceptive gaze so hot on my left cheek.
“See,” he says, lifting his chin toward the barrel course. “Nothing to it, right?”
I want to roll my eyes, but don’t since I know he’s trying to help. Of course there’s nothing to this yet. All we’ve done is step out onto the field. It’s everything that remains that’s the challenge here… but this is where, yet again, Justin surprises me.
When we enter the pen, he doesn’t just let go and push himself up onto the top fence post like I expected him to do. No, he keeps right on leading us, walking both Oakley and me down the unmarked path toward the first barrel. And then, around it.
“What… what are you doing?” I ask, and Annie’s ears twitch.
“Helping you get comfortable,” he replies, a proud glint in his eyes as he looks over. “Letting you find your rhythm again. You know Oakley can sense your anxiety, and that’s not helping anything.”
This time, I let the eye roll fly. “Oh, so now who’s the horse whisperer?” I ask with a grin. Justin laughs at one of his old nicknames for me, then clucks his tongue softly, guiding us past the second barrel.
“Listen, I just figured instead of jumping in feet first, we warm up a little, that’s all.”
I have to admit, he has a good point. I’ve always been an all or nothing sort of girl. I’ve never really been able to do things halfway or in stages. That’s what got me in trouble the first time I tried to ride again, pushing too hard too fast, wanting to be back to normal immediately instead of understanding the small steps my therapist suggested for what they really were—time to heal.
When I stay quiet, Justin once again fills the silence. He’s become quite the chatterbox since we dated. “Whenever we have a stressful game coming up, Carlos and I take a cooler out to the field the night before.” He steers us around barrel three. “We visualize the game, talk about our opponents, breakdown their strengths and weaknesses. Sometimes, Brandon and Drew join us, and the four us throw the ball around, preparing ourselves for the battle.” He looks over at me. “That’s what this is, Peyton. Your battle. We just need to get you prepared.”
My first thought is that I am prepared. This literally isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve done this hundreds of times before. But, this is the first time I’ve tried, truly tried, since that day three years ago, so maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m not as prepared mentally, physically, or emotionally as I should be.
The fear that lives beneath the surface of my skin? It pretty much proves that I’m not.
So, that’s what we do. We prepare, with Justin leading us through the course again and again, each time with my chest allowing a bit more air into my lungs, until the third complete rotation when he circles back to the beginning and comes to a stop.
“Want to try a slow lope?” he asks.