I cleaned stalls and moved horses around, heat more than exertion made me sweat, which meant three surreptitious trips into the tack room to fix my makeup like a vain high school kid.
Only a few more days , I reminded myself as I self-consciously looked to make sure no one saw me, then I don’t have to bother with this crap anymore .
It would help if the bruise faded instead of getting darker, but I had enough concealer with me to keep the discoloration hidden until it was finally gone, so I tried not to worry about it too much.
Around six thirty that evening, my to-do list was done for the day, and there was nothing left except the late-night feeding, so I went back up to my house. As soon as I’d closed the door behind me, I released my breath and looked around, smiling to myself. Though Dustin lived under the same roof, a wall kept him on his own side, and this tiny half of the duplex was something no place had been in years: mine . Rented or not, this space was mine and mine alone, and I loved it.
Even if it was backed up against the place where Dustin slept. Slept, and maybe—
I rolled my eyes and laughed at my own thoughts. Guess I was getting desperate for any thoughts that weren’t about being miserable. At least having impure thoughts about Dustin was better than stumbling around in an emotionless daze like I’d been doing recently, and these days, I’d take anything I could get that wasn’t numb and dragging. I figured my new boss was kind of like that football player in high school I used to lust after. A complete and utter douche bag I wouldn’t have touched for a million bucks, but he sure was nice to look at. Made that nauseatingly boring calculus class a lot more bearable. Okay, so Dustin wasn’t that bad. Just a little moody for my taste. And he was that hot. Maybe the occasional glance at Dustin’s butt or those beautiful blue eyes would make shoveling his horses’ shit while taking his shit a little more appealing.
Giggling to myself, I rolled my eyes again and went to the refrigerator to get something to drink. Which reminded me, I really needed to take a trip into town and buy a few groceries, because there was nothing in the fridge except a couple of bottles of water I’d had in the truck on my trip. Definitely needed to go shopping, and I had just enough time right now to make the trip—forty-five minutes each way—into town.
After downing half the ice-cold bottle, I went into the small bathroom and rinsed the sweat, dust, and makeup off my face. As the dirt and concealer smeared off my skin and onto the washcloth, my good humor faded. And it faded a heck of a lot faster than that stupid bruise on my cheekbone insisted on doing.
I lowered my hands, resting them on the sink as my bruised reflection looked back at me.
Screw it. The grocery store could wait. Staring at myself now, focusing on that blue-green reminder of things I didn’t want to think about, I didn’t feel like going anywhere or doing anything. My stomach turned to lead. My shoulders slumped under an invisible weight, and I made a mental note to make sure that eventual trip for groceries included a stop at the liquor store. Though alcohol had played a nasty part in my recent history, including that bruise, I wasn’t above drowning in a bottle when I needed to escape all things painful. And as heavy and impenetrable as this numbness seemed to be, I knew it would break eventually, and when it did, it would hurt. A lot.
What a lovely contradiction. I wanted this numbness to go away but didn’t particularly want to be there when it happened.
Well, which is it, Amy? Do you want to feel it or not?
God. Yeah. Mariah was right. I was going off the deep end.
And if there was anyone left on the planet I could talk to…
I dropped onto my bed and speed-dialed my sister.
“Hey, you,” Mariah said. “How are you doing?”
“I’m…doing.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
Fixing my gaze on the barn outside my