I bring Sundance into the crossties and run a brush over his dark bay fur. He’s a muddy mess from rolling around in the pasture.

“Hey, boy,” I say to him. “I’m sorry you haven’t been ridden. Though you probably like it. You are kind of lazy.” Ten minutes later, I take him out into the round pen to be exercised. I stand in the middle of a circular arena and motion for him to move forward. I watch him trot around, seeing his muscles flex with each stride. Sundance came here in rough shape too. He had mange and worms, and his mane had to be shaved off because it was so full of burs. It took months of trimming to get his hooves looking good again.

I let him out in the pasture then get Benny, repeating the same process. How could something I once loved feel so tedious? Not wanting to be in the barn and around the horses filled me with guilt. Mom would be ashamed. Being there without her…it was too much.

“I didn’t forget about you,” I say as I slide open the heavy oak door to Shakespeare’s stall. He nickers softly and moves to me, pieces of hay sticking out of his mouth as he chews. Just the sight of him makes me smile, and my broken heart thumps in my chest. He nudges me with his nose and I turn around, offering him my back. He rubs his head on it, covering me in white fur. I twist and wrap my arms around him, inhaling the sweet scent of grain and hay. I get a flashback to one of our first shows we did together.

It’s the middle of summer and so hot. I’m sweating in my breeches, tall leather boots, and black show jacket. I lead him into the ring, smiling for the judge. I hate showmanship. I hate not being on my horse. But Mom thought it was important.

Shakespeare is as bored as I am. He digs at the ground, rubs on me, and then rolls. I stand back and watch in horror. My freshly bathed white horse is rolling in the damp sand arena. All eyes are on me. I can hear Mom shouting at me to get him up.

But I just laugh.

He jerks his head up and looks out the open Dutch door, hearing the car pull into the driveway before I can. I move to the door and wave to Lori. She parks by the house and gets out. Chrissy lazily trots over, wagging her tail. She’s such a great guard dog. I hug Shakespeare, let him out, and hurry up the driveway.

“Tell me everything,” she says. “I am so jealous!”

I smile because I know I should, though really I feel dead inside. I should be excited, right? I should share Lori’s excitement. I am just as big of a fan of Aiden as she is, and an even bigger fan of Shadowland. But I just don’t care. We go inside, and Lori sets a bag of takeout on the counter.

“I got Thai food,” she says. “You didn’t eat, did you?”

I shake my head, and my hunger comes on with a vengeance. I forget to feed myself, and preparing meals takes too much energy. I’ve missed more meals in the last few months than ever before, and it’s starting to show.

“Did you touch him?” she asks, hazel eyes sparkling. “Please tell me you did. Oh, did he smell good? Did you take a picture with him? Let me see!”

I grab two glasses from the cabinet next to the sink and fill them both with water. We take our spots at the island counter. I take a bite of spicy noodles before I get out the voice recorder.

“No to all of your questions,” I say with my mouth full. “Listen.” I press play.

Lori leans in, too enthralled by Aiden’s voice to eat. I slowly chew my noodles, listening to the interview. I sound bored, disengaged even.

“You don’t even sound nervous,” Lori says. “I’d be stuttering and mixing up words like crazy.”

“I was nervous at first. Then we got to talking and I actually felt sort of comfortable. He was easy to talk to.” And I really didn’t care, but I don’t tell Lori that, nor do I tell her about him asking me out. She’d take me straight to the looney bin for sure, or at the very least demand I take the antidepressants again. And maybe she’d be right.

“I am so, so fucking jealous, Hay. You have no idea.”

I laugh. “I have a little idea.”

She nudges me and rewinds the interview, listening to it again. “Is he staying in Billings?”

“I didn’t ask. I’d assume so. He was at a bar there, so it makes sense, right? Besides, there aren’t too many other cities around here with nice hotels.”

“You should have asked.”

I shake my head and flash another smile. I could have found out. Well, maybe. Who knows if we would have gone back to his hotel room or not.

“Let’s go bar-hopping in Billings next weekend.”

Going out, getting dressed up…I used to love it. Now it seems like too much effort. “I shouldn’t,” I start. I can’t look Lori in the eye. “I don’t have extra money to spend on drinks and—”

“I’m buying your drinks,” she says. “I never got to take you out for your birthday, and one night out will do you some good, even if we can’t find Aiden.”

“What about Kit?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

She waves her hand in the air. “He won’t care. At all. He picked up a few extra night shifts next week at the hospital.” She clasps her hands together. “Please come out with me. You need this.”

“Fine,” I say. It’s a week away. I can get out of it by then. There’s no reason to stress about it now.

“You look hot,” Lori says, standing behind me Friday night. I look at my reflection and hardly recognize the woman looking back at me.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I’m all for showing off my boobs, but don’t you think this dress screams, I give it up in the bar bathroom?”

My dark hair hangs in tight curls around my face that will loosen by the time we get to the bar. My hair never holds a curl. I think I look substantially better with a full face of makeup. My skin isn’t horrible, but I have red marks dotting over my cheeks and a general uneven tone across my whole face. I like wearing eye makeup, though I haven’t that often recently. It just runs down my cheeks when I cry.

Now I’m sporting a gray and black smokey-eye, red lipstick, and this dress. It’s dark purple with black lace around the edges. The neckline is low and it’s tight around my breasts, which have nearly doubled in size since I put on a few pounds. The burns on my left shoulder show, and even though it doesn’t quite match, I put on a black cardigan to cover them up. “I’m fine with looking like a whore,” I say, tugging at the hems. My thighs are bigger than the last time I wore this. “But I don’t want to look like a cheap whore.”

“Cheap whores don’t wear Jimmy Choos,” she says with a smile and reaches in her bag, pulling out a pair of deep purple heels. “Or carry designer bags. We’re going all out tonight. No excuses. I’m ordering you to have fun. Or else.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I slip on the shoes, fluff my hair, and look back in the mirror. I want to have a wild night like we used to. I want to laugh and let go and have fun. I want to feel happy. Really, I do. But that seems like a distant memory, and I’m not sure I remember what happiness feels like.

“Ready?” Lori says. She looks perfect in tight jeans, heeled boots, and a corset top. She’s a few inches shorter than me, and at least twenty pounds lighter. Her strawberry-blonde hair is swept up and away from her face by a headband, and her makeup is flawless. I don’t know how she does it.

I suddenly feel anxiety about leaving. It’s only an hour away, and we planned to come back here before sunrise. If I got my way, we’d be leaving by midnight.

Halfway to the city, Lori gets a texted from Kit. “Ah shit,” she says as she reads it even though she’s driving. “He forgot his wallet—again—and wants me to bring him money for food since we’re going to be in the city.” She makes a face. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all. I don’t want to make the poor guy starve.”

“He’s such a pain in the ass,” she says, setting her phone in her lap. She and Kit have a very passionate relationship and fight almost as hard as they make up. He just got a job as a respiratory therapist at the hospital in Billings. Moving closer to the city was their current hot-button issue.