Impulsion (Station 32 #1)(55)

The thing about being that tired, feeling every muscle in your body tingling, wanting nothing more than a hot shower and soft bed, was that it didn’t allow you to be stressed, anxious, to really even think. It was a mellow state that was like a drug to Harley growing up, and feeling it again made her life back home seem worlds away.

It wasn’t until Collin called to check on her that she focused on her situation.

“Better today?” he asked, and right as he did Harley watched that green Honda pull up. Apparently, whoever that girl was had been with Wyatt long enough to stay at his place when he wasn’t even there.

“Yeah, it was,” she breathed. She told Collin every detail of her day, a day of riding, working, finding a breath. Anytime he tried to mention Wyatt, she made it obvious she wasn’t going to talk about it by drastically changing the topic.

After talking with him, just like the old routine she called her father and told him all that she had done that day, too. He never asked about Wyatt, just listened to her, even laughed a few times at the things Camille had said and Harley found fitting to repeat.

Harley slept like the dead that night, only managed to remember one dream of Wyatt. She thought about waiting on Camille again before she left, especially when she saw Wyatt’s truck parked at the barn right next to that Honda, but she found that thin sheet of nerve that Collin had always tried to get her to grasp and made her way to the barn; properly dressed that day, a tank and riding pants, boots, she even put her own chaps on.

The horses had already been fed. A few were being tacked, others were being turned out. She was surprised Danny Boy was not leaning out of his stall, protesting about being left in once again. That almost scared her, so she picked up her pace, almost jogged.

When she reached his stall, her eyes connected with Wyatt’s. He was holding Danny Boy, letting his long arms guide his hand down Danny Boy’s neck. He was still in his uniform from work, paramedic pants and a fireman T-shirt. Harley was sure the boy could wear a paper bag and still be drool-worthy, and that ticked her off more than anything.

Old Doc Knox, the same vet that had always taken care of this farm, was looking over Danny Boy.

“Everything all right?” Harley asked, bending to go under the stall guard.

“This boy’s a machine,” Doc Knox said. “I was checking on the colt that was dropped last week, thought I’d have a look at him. Has he left his stall?”

Wyatt looked at Harley in question.

“No, Camille said not to move him.”

Knox laughed. “She’s fiercely protective over this one.” He picked up Danny Boy’s back leg, ran his hand down his hocks. “You can hand walk him for twenty minutes a day, for his sanity. We want to keep these lacerations as clean as possible; he’s rubbing everything he can into them. I’d rinse them, wrap his legs tight. I’ll come back ‘round day after tomorrow and have another peek.”

Knox stepped away from Danny Boy and looked over at Harley. “How’re you holding up?”

“Feeling good. I worked out the soreness yesterday.”

“I tell you right now, I did not like the look of that truck. I’m too old to get calls like that. You know I have daughters your age. Don’t be putting more fears in my head; they already keep me up at night as it is,” he said with a chuckle. He glanced back at Wyatt. “Tell your momma I’m sorry I missed her. It’s looking like it’s going to be a long day,” he said as he pulled his phone out and read the screen before making his way out of the stall.

Harley could feel the raw tension between her and Wyatt, felt that harsh, painful glare he was giving her. It took all she had not to tell him that he had no right to look at her like that when Honda girl was still lying in his bed upstairs.

“I can rinse his legs, set him up. I’m sure you’re tired.”

“We didn’t turn a wheel last night. I’m fine,” he said as he led Danny Boy to the doorway and reached for his lead. Harley dropped the stall guard, and with Danny Boy in the middle they made their way to the wash bays on the far side of the main barn.

They worked in silence, unwrapping Danny Boy’s legs, getting the water and soap ready.

“Did you ride Ghost yesterday?” Wyatt asked finally.

“I did.”

“He didn’t throw you?”

“Did you want him to?” she spat back.

Wyatt looked at her like she was insane. He couldn’t figure out how she had become so cold in just a few years’ time. He hated her mother with a passion. Her father? He’d always seemed like an all right kind of guy to him.

Every visit Garrison made to Willowhaven Farms, he spent just as much time watching Wyatt ride the broncs as he did Harley riding the jumpers. Wyatt took him as a man’s man, but now, seeing how Harley was, he found just as much blame with him. He could have stood up to his own wife. They had all seen Claire change her tune when he was around; she almost acted human toward Harley. Man’s man or not, he should have figured out what that woman was raising Harley to become.

“No. I suppose I didn’t know how much you were able to ride since you went to so many parties. For all I knew, he was too advanced for you.”

Harley was having to tell herself to be tender with Danny Boy. She felt her hands pushing into him as she scrubbed. The tension was just that elevated inside of her. Danny Boy was dancing from side to side, hating the water in general.