Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
I’m about to put my pillow on the other end of the couch when Olivia whimpers in her sleep. I stop and turn. Walking back over to her, I look down at her, and the whimpers stop. She rolls over to face the other way, and when I turn to walk to my side, she whimpers again. Walk away, Casey, I tell myself. Nothing good is going to come from this. Just walk away. But when she whimpers again, I do what I shouldn’t. I lie next to her and put my arms around her like I’ve wanted to do all night.
Her back rests against my chest, and when she whimpers again, I whisper, “I gotcha, darlin’.” I’m expecting her to open her eyes and turn around, but instead, she just sinks into my arms. So in the middle of my living room, I fall asleep with her in my arms. I wake during the night more times than normal, but when I feel her beside me, I go back to sleep. I get up before she does, leaving her on the couch as I go to the kitchen and start the coffee for her. Looking at the clock, I see it’s almost six a.m.
I’m about to text my father when I see my mother coming up the back steps. I walk over to the door and open it. “Morning,” she says quietly, but I put my finger to my mouth, then point over at the couch from the kitchen.
“She had a nightmare and didn’t want to sleep in the bedroom,” I say. My mother’s face fills with concern. “She’s fine now.”
“I came over so you can go do your things,” she says, taking off her shoes. I stand here, trying to come up with a reason not to leave her. My mother puts her hand on my arm. “It’s okay. I have her.”
After I nod at her, I walk back to my bedroom to get dressed. I’m hoping that Olivia is awake so I can see she is okay, but when I walk back out after getting dressed, I see she’s still sleeping. My mother is sitting on the couch reading a book. “Can you text me when she gets up?” She just smiles at me, so I head out the door and make my way over to the barn.
Walking into the barn I had renovated six months ago, I find the concrete floor spotless, and the sound of my boots clicking wake a couple of the horses up. “Morning, fillies.” Entering the kitchen right in front of the office, I start the coffee for everyone, then walk over to my office to turn on my computer. Another thing I did when I took over was make everything digital. No more handwritten notes, and no more writing contracts down—everything had a paper trail. Moving back to the kitchen, I fill a white coffee cup and take the first sip. Walking back to my desk, I make the work plan for the day so the guys know where they are needed and what needs to be done. After that’s printed, I put it on the clipboard in the kitchen. I hired five more people since I took over from my father after I put in more stalls and have more horses here than before. Each farm has a purpose. This one is for training, and one is for mating. I opened one for lessons and that one is taking off through the roof. I also have one that specializes in rodeo training. I keep my mind as busy as possible and try not to look at the clock every two minutes, wondering if she’s up, and if she’s not, is that normal.
At eight thirty, I get a text telling me that she’s up. They are making breakfast and I should head over. I don’t know what I’m expecting when I get there, but when I walk in, I don’t see her. My heart speeds up, and my eyes go around the room five times before my mother says, “She’s getting dressed.”
The back door opens behind me, and my father comes in. “Mornin’.” He walks around me to my mother and bends to kiss her lips. “Sweetheart.”
I’m about to go to her room when I see her walk around the corner, and my chest does something weird. I rub the middle of my chest, thinking maybe I have indigestion. She wears yoga pants with a pink sweater. Her hair is high in a ponytail, but the ends are curled. Her face is free of makeup, just how I like it. “Morning, cowboy.” She smiles, but it’s a fake one, and I have to say I hate it.
“Mornin’, darlin’,” I say. I wait for her gaze to meet mine again, but instead, she looks at my parents.