“What are you going to tell Mom and Dad?” Harrison asks.
“That it makes financial sense to go to Indiana. I can’t leave that house just sitting empty, and I’m not selling it. And a Victorian farmhouse with room for horses is my total dream house.”
“It is,” Laney agrees. “I’ll miss you.”
“It’s just Indiana,” I say, forcing myself to smile again. “I’m not moving overseas. Assuming things are calm, you know you’d be welcome to visit.” I look at Harrison. “You actually remember Thorne Hill.”
He gives me a half-smile. “Better than you.”
“What about Ethan?” Laney asks. “Have you told him you’re leaving?”
“No,” I say with a shake of my head. “I will tomorrow, once he’s home.” If anyone understands making a sacrifice to protect the ones you love, it’s him.
Saying bye to everyone was harder than I expected, and I expected it to be pretty damn hard. To everyone else, it makes sense why I’d move into a house with no mortgage and low taxes, and I was almost able to spin it to make it sound like I had a sense of duty to move in and care for a historic home that’s been in my family for generations. I think everyone was a little blindsided to why I rushed out only four days after my friend’s funeral, though Mom thinks my sadness is driving me to make a big change in the hope that it will help me feel better. She’s right in one sense, but she doesn’t know the whole story, and as much as it kills me not to tell her, I can’t. Not now…not yet.
Leslie’s husband, Adam, came to me only yesterday and said he can’t handle taking care of Sundance. He doesn’t know anything about horses, and seeing his wife’s horse is too painful, but he knows Leslie would want someone to make sure he’s taken care of. He wanted to just give Sundance to me instead of selling him and said we’d revisit things later when he was able to process everything better.
So, I loaded Sundance up in the new horse trailer I bought, along with Mystery, promising Adam he could have Sundance back if he wanted him. Grief can make people do things they might regret, and getting rid of his wife’s horse might be one of them.
And now I’m almost to Thorne Hill after twelve hours of driving. I cried the first hundred miles, missing my friends and feeling stressed to be driving a new truck that’s pulling two horses in a large trailer, but the closer I got to Indiana, the more I felt a sense of peace. It doesn’t make sense, I know, to feel welcome in a place I don’t remember growing up. By all accounts, I’m an outsider in this small town, yet it feels so right, so familiar, so safe, when I drive through town on the way to Aunt Estelle’s house.
To my house.
The sun is starting to set when I finally pull into the driveway, and my heart swells in my chest when the blue house comes into view. “We’re home,” I tell Hunter. I have him buckled in the backseat again, though now that I know he’s not really a dog, I suppose he doesn’t need it. I park in the driveway and put the strap of Romeo’s carrying bag over my shoulder, taking him into the house before I unload the horses and bring them into the barn. It’s big and empty, not really ideal for horses, but it will do for the next few days until I can some sort of temporary fencing up, while I shop around for someone to install something permanent.
I fill up two water buckets and open up the side door in the barn, letting fresh air and light in. It’s cold tonight, and I took my coat off in the truck. Shivering, I go inside to get Romeo set up. I brought what I could fit in the truck and trailers, and the rest of my stuff is arriving in two days. I donated a decent amount of stuff so I wouldn’t have to deal with moving it, and also because I don’t need the furniture here.
Double checking there are no holes behind the sink in the downstairs powder room, I spread out a blanket, fill up a bowl of water, and toss a handful of treats down for Romeo. He runs out of his carrying bag, making cute little dook noises as he hops around the room. Smiling, I watch him for a minute and then close the door so I can get back to unpacking.
Someone knocks at the door, and I freeze, eyes going to Hunter. He trots through the foyer, tail wagging as he stands by the door.
“If it’s a demon, you’re fired,” I tell him and open the door. It’s not a demon, but who stands there surprises me just as much. “Ethan!”