Aiden’s phone is on the table, ringing when I go inside. I miss the call by the time I get to it, and see that Claire, his assistant, has called twice already. I take the phone upstairs for him.

“Aiden?” I say softly and stand in the doorway of my room. He’s sprawled out in bed with the blankets pulled up over his face. I smile and turn away, not wanting to wake him up. He is sick and needs the sleep. Plus, he said he has a hard time sleeping, so waking him just seems unnecessary. The phone rings, and I scramble to silence it but end up answering instead.

It’s Claire again, and I can hear her saying Aiden’s name. I dash down the stairs before I answer.

“Hello?” I say into the phone.

“Who is this?” she rushes out. “How did you get this phone?”

“It’s Haley,” I say, reminding myself her anger is out of devotion to Aiden. “Aiden is sleeping and I didn’t want to wake him up.”

“Oh, Haley the journalist?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Good.” She lets out a breath. “How is he? Does he need anything?”

I smile, thinking about Aiden up in my bed, wearing nothing but boxers. “He’s okay, still has a fever and still coughing, but okay. And, uh, he probably needs clothes, a toothbrush, and whatever medicine he’s supposed to be taking.”

“I’ll bring it over as soon as I can. Do you need anything?”

“Uh,” I start, totally shocked she’s asking me. Did looking after Aiden’s love interests come with the job? “No, but thank you. I’m good. I have everything I need.”

“All right. Tell Aiden I’ll be there soon.”

“I will. Bye.”

I set his phone down and make breakfast. While the cinnamon rolls are cooking, I get a cup of coffee and go through yesterday’s mail. Ugh. I have another hospital bill. I toss it on the counter, shaking my head. I’ll deal with it later.

I sip my coffee, watching Aurelia run around, her spindly legs moving as fast as they can. I don’t want to think about all that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours, even though most of that is good.

I want things to work between us, and after everything, I feel guilty doubting Aiden. But how can this work? Not only does he live far away, but he lives in another world, where the reality is lavish parties and paychecks so big they could buy a house.

The timer on the oven goes off, and I get up to take the rolls out. I set one on a plate for Aiden and stick it back in the oven to keep it warm. Just thinking about him makes me smile. What the hell, right? He makes me happy. I should enjoy it while it lasts, because it will be over before I know it.

I’m in the barn with Dr. Wells and two vet techs when Claire arrives. We’ve been debriding the many, many wounds on the new guy after we did the same to Phoenix. Dr. Wells doesn’t come out and say it, but I can tell by the little lines of worry around her eyes that she expected Phoenix to heal faster than she is.

The new horse is a trooper. Unlike Phoenix, he has a drive to live. He looks at me with hope in his eyes. He’s in bad shape—it took nearly an hour to get the rest of the barbed wire out of his leg. Skin had grown over some of it and had to be clipped and sliced away. Luckily there wasn’t too much muscle damage, and Dr. Wells didn’t think the infection got into the bone. She took vials of blood to take back with her and test, which would tell us more.

He is badly infected, of course, and is on antibiotics. Dr. Wells gave him a bag of fluids via IV to rehydrate him, and we worked out a diet plan. I have to call the farrier and make sure doing another horse’s hooves was okay. The one who had come out a few times since Mom passed did it as a pity favor. It is hard finding someone as good as Mom, and it’s hard finding someone who’s willing and able to take on a horse with years of neglected hoof care.

I’m holding the gelding’s head, calmly talking to him, when Shakespeare whinnies a hello to someone. I hear the car pulling into the driveway seconds later. I tell Dr. Wells I’ll be right back and hurry out of the barn to get Claire before she rings the doorbell and wakes up Aiden.

She gets out of the car and looks around, pulling her shoulder-length red hair out from under the strap of her giant purse. She opens the door behind her and grabs a black leather duffle bag.

“Hi,” I say, and she startles. “Claire, right?”

“Yeah,” she says, running her eyes over me and raising an eyebrow. I cast my eyes downward and realize I’m speckled with blood from taking care of the gelding’s wounds. Her lips tighten into a smile. “And you’re Haley.”

“Yep, that’s me.”

“Where is Aiden?”

“He’s upstairs, still sleeping. Well, I assume so. I’ve been in the barn for a while. You can come in and see him if you want,” I say, because Claire is looking at me like I’m a super-fan who has Aiden tied up in my bed against his will. “Just let me get the dog so she doesn’t bark and wake him up.”

She nods and follows me in. I open the door and grab Chrissy’s collar. “She’s very friendly,” I say as I step inside. Claire comes in, holding out her hand to Chrissy.

“Aww, I had a border collie when I was a kid,” she says, and the air between us changes instantly. “She looks just like her.” She sets the bag and her purse down and gets on her knees to pet Chrissy. “You’re making me homesick, sweetheart.” Chrissy licks her face.

“Sorry,” I say as I pull her back. “She just loves everyone.”

“It’s okay,” Claire says, wiping her face. “I miss having a dog.”

“You can’t now?”

She sighs and stands up. “It’s hard when I travel a lot.”

Oh, right. She goes wherever Aiden goes. I wonder how much he pays her. With everything she does, it should be a lot. Why would anyone want to be a celebrity’s personal assistant? Other than what I’ve seen in The Devil Wears Prada three times, I have no idea what PAs actually do.

“I don’t hear him, so I’m assuming he’s still asleep,” I tell Claire as I walk through the mudroom and into the kitchen. We quietly go up the stairs. I crack my bedroom door open, using my foot to hold Chrissy back. Aiden is on his back with the covers kicked off and wrapped around his feet. He’s a little wheezy as he breathes, but he’s still sleeping.

We step back and I close the door. “He didn’t take anything?” she asks as we go back down the stairs.

“No, was he supposed to?”

“Oh no, just wondering,” she says quickly. “He doesn’t sleep in without—I mean, he doesn’t sleep in that often.”

“Oh, uh, well, I don’t plan on waking him up. And if he wants to stay, I’m going to force him to watch movies and rest.”

Claire smiles. “That’ll be good for him.” We reach the bottom of the stairs and she turns, looking at the blood on my shirt once more. “What were you doing out there?”

“I got a new rescue,” I say, careful not to mention Aiden. “One of his legs was wrapped tightly in barbed wire, and we had to cut his skin to get it out.”

She shudders. “Oh, poor thing. I’ll let you get back to it. If you two do go out, tell Aiden to call Frank to escort you. All of Aiden’s medicine is in a little black zipper pouch in his bag. Make sure he takes it, please?”

“I will,” I tell her and walk her out. I go back to the barn and see Dr. Wells stitching up what she can on the gelding’s leg. A half hour later, she’s packing up to go and says not to worry about the bill just yet. It’s a nice gesture, but I know what that means: it’s going to be fucking expensive.

A knot forms in my stomach, and I hate thinking that I shouldn’t have taken him in. Mom would never turn away a horse. She’d find a way to make it work. I sigh and finish my barn chores. Maybe I can write freelance articles or start giving riding lessons again. I have expensive show tack that I doubt I’ll use anytime soon. If I sold it close to what I paid for it, I might be able to cover the cost of today’s barn call.