Cowgirl by Nance Sparks

Author:Nance Sparks [Sparks, Nance]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781635558760
Publisher: Bold Strokes Books
Published: 2021-04-18T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-five

Aren squinted, adjusting to the bright overhead lights. She carefully lifted Carol’s arms off to the side before sitting up. Carol was hunched over and sound asleep. She looked adorable with hay stuck in the side of her hair, though she’d be sore tomorrow if left to sleep here. Aren got up on her knees and scooped Carol into her arms.

“What are you doing? Where are we going?” Carol’s voice was garbled by a yawn. She draped her arms around Aren’s neck.

“I’m going to take you to bed,” Aren said.

“Hmm, I’d like that.” Carol’s head rested on Aren’s shoulder. She sounded as if she were mumbling in her sleep.

Aren worked her way to the edge of the bales. She lowered one leg, shifting her weight so she could get her other knee off the bales and beneath her, without dropping Carol. Carefully, she walked up the main aisle and into the living area. She bent over to lay Carol closer to the center of the bed and Carol’s arms released. She rolled over onto her side, her casted leg still dangling off the bed. Aren lifted her leg up and then covered Carol with a light blanket. Part of her would have liked to curl up against her and pull her tight, but she was too raw from the night’s emotions to do anything like that.

She walked quietly over to the loveseat, picked up the two coffee cups from earlier, and made her way to the sink while replaying the conversation from a few hours ago. She felt ridiculous, embarrassed for freaking out like that. Running around turning on all the lights, then hiding in the hay like a terrified child. What Carol must think. She turned on the countertop light before walking to the other end of the barn and shutting off the large overhead lights. She stood there, next to the light panel, looking out the far loft door into the darkness. Now Carol knew how her face had become scarred, knew all the gory details about what had happened that night. What she wouldn’t give to know how Carol felt about it. She hadn’t cried in years. She’d learned not to. It was a sign of weakness. It was safer not to cry. She walked back up the aisle, grabbing Carol’s crutches along the way.

Aren plopped down on the Adirondack sofa with a tall glass of milk. Bailey moved closer, leaning up against her leg.

“What do you think, Bailey girl? Did I share too much? She must think I’m crazy.” Aren patted her dog’s neck.

“No, you definitely did not share too much, and no, I don’t think you’re crazy.”

Aren jumped to her feet and spun around. Carol sat at the edge of the bed, softly illuminated by the countertop light. She reached for her crutches.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t wake me. My bladder did. Are you okay? I can stay up and sit with you.”

“It’s just after three in the morning. You should at least try to get a few more hours of sleep.

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