Into the Fading Twilight (Starlight Grove, #2) (100)

The youngest woman, Livie, sent me a kind smile, and something about her was familiar. “First time doing equine therapy?”

I nodded. “That obvious?”

“I recognize the nerves. It’s pretty amazing, and that’s coming from someone who was terrified of horses before this.”

Marly laughed. “And look at you now. You even went on a trail ride with Aster last week.”

Livie flicked her hair over her shoulder in a dramatic move meant for humor. “I think I’ve earned the cowboy hat I have my eye on at that secondhand shop in town.”

“Girl, snap it up,” Gena said, her brown eyes sparkling.

A low ringing sound cut into the conversation, and Livie pulled out her phone, frowning. “Olivia Bishop,” she answered. Her frown only deepened. “I’ll be there in about fifteen.”

“Work?” Marly inquired sympathetically.

“Always,” Livie grumbled. “I’ll be back next week.” She glanced at me. “Nice to meet you, Nova.”

As she headed to her car, I wondered if she was an on-call doctor or a nurse or something else.

“All right,” Marly said. “Let’s begin. I’ll assign your horses.”

I made my way into the ring and toward Twilight, getting close but not within kicking or biting range. I could hear Aster giving the rest of the group instructions, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the mare.

She was beautiful, but her eyes were haunted in a way I recognized. Like I saw in the mirror every single morning.

Marly moved in next to me. “First time around horses?”

“I think I did a pony ride when I was nine,” I admitted. “The handlers led us around a ring at a carnival.” One Brae’s parents had taken me to—never mine.

“You can take your time,” Marly assured me. “There’s no rush. This is all about discovery—of her and of you. There’s no wrong lesson. But caring for her will teach you things about how you care for yourself and how others have cared for you throughout your life.”

My lips pressed together, but I nodded.

“Twilight is the best of them. She came to Aster through a rescue organization,” Marly went on.

My focus switched from the horse to Marly, because I’d been right about those haunted eyes.

“An abuse situation. Aster said it took her a good long while to start to trust, and they’re still finding their way.” Marly moved toward the horse. She stroked the mare’s neck and dropped her forehead to Twilight’s. “But she’s getting there. Aren’t you, girl?”

The horse blew out a breath between her lips.

“That’s right.” Marly scratched under her chin. “The main things when starting out are: no quick movements and keep your palm flat when you come up to her mouth.” Marly demonstrated, the mare lipping at her open palm. “She wants a treat.”

“I would, too.”

“Want to try giving her a pet?”

I did, but anxiety stirred, that familiar buzz lighting in my muscles along with the urge to bolt.

“There’s no rush,” Marly encouraged.

“I want to,” I croaked, taking a step closer.

Marly shifted so she was standing by the horse’s neck. “I’m right here. Why don’t you start out by letting her scent you? Hold out your hand like I did.”

Painfully slowly, I stretched out a hand. There was no missing that it shook, but I kept it out anyway.

Twilight sniffed twice, then lipped my hand. Her whiskers tickled my palm, and I let out the last sound I expected—a laugh.

Marly placed a hand on the mare’s neck. “You can stroke her cheek or her face, scratch between her ears. She likes that.”

I lifted my hand slowly, gently setting it against her cheek. The horse moved closer, startling me back a step. My throat burned.

“Talk me through what happened just then.”

“She moved too fast and …”

“And?” Marly pressed.

“I thought she was going to bite me.” The burn in my throat spread behind my eyes. “I thought she was going to bite me because I’m always waiting for the bite. The slap. The hurt. The pain.”

It was what I’d known for so long. Way before Travis. He’d only cemented the fear.

“But not everyone or everything will bite. Not everyone or everything will hurt,” Marly said softly.

“No. They won’t.” Kol didn’t. Neither did Brae. Or Owen. Or Skylar. Or the whole new world I was building.

“So,” Marly continued, “we’re cautious, but we let people show us who they are. We don’t rush it. But we don’t assume, either.”

I took a step back toward Twilight. “Sorry, girl,” I whispered. “Sometimes, I think the worst.” I slowly lifted my hand again and stroked her cheek.

The horse stretched out her neck and pulled part of my jacket between her lips.

A giggle left me. “There aren’t any carrots in there.”

She blew out a breath through her nose as she released my coat.

Gathering my bravery, I raised my other hand, ghosting it over her forehead. Twilight pressed into my touch, a silent request for more. So I gave it to her. Stroke after stroke until we found our rhythm.