Farm Girl Has Bad Boy (#3)

Chapter Thirty

Author's Note:

If you have any sad music, I highly suggest listening to it while you read this, or listen to the song I posted on the side.

I wake up to crickets. The sound isn’t comforting in any way. Instead, it just mocks the fact that I’m hopelessly struggling.

Slowly, I swing my legs out of my bed and walk towards the window. It’s only a few hours past midnight; the time I wake up every single night, if I even fall asleep. Silently, I push the window open and stick my head out, closing my eyes against the soft breeze. Breathing in the fresh air, I reassure myself that things are all going to work out. Emery will choose not to go to the military, he’ll be here when the baby’s born, and all will go as planned.

“River.” I turn around to see my dad standing breathlessly in the dark doorway. His posture is stiff and his eyes look strained. We haven’t talked that much since we went to see Emery two weeks ago, however I can tell I need to actually listen to what he has to say.

“What’s wrong?” I close the window and turn around, taking a few cautious steps towards my dad. He shakes his head sadly and finally meets my eyes.

“It’s Patch.” It’s not until we’re a few feet from the barn when he explains. “I heard noises coming from the barn and came out to check on him.” He sighs, not wanting to say his next words. “I think he’s leaving us, River.”

Tears stream down my cheeks as I burst into the barn, knowing whether I want to or not, I have to face this. “Call Mary,” I order my dad, tossing him my cell phone without worrying it might fall and break. I hear him catch it and call over my shoulder as I head towards Patch’s stall. “Grab some blankets, a bucket full of water, a pillow, cloth and some of Ocean’s clothes.”

I turn to face my dad before daring to look in Patch’s stall. I watch my father nod once, and he quickly heads out of the barn, dialing Mary’s home number. Taking a deep breath, I clench and unclench my fists, trying to build up my courage. Knowing I have to be here for Patch and I’m stalling, I raise my eyes to his stall.

The first thing I notice is that he’s not standing. I can’t see any sign of the paint horse above the stall; however I can hear his ragged breathing from the floor. With shaking hands, I slowly open it and instantly meet Patch’s eyes. They’re wide open, looking tired and frightened at the same time. Choking on a sob, I step into his stall and instantly sink to the ground beside him.

“Oh, Patch,” I cry softly, stroking his head. He makes a small sound in acknowledgment and I slide my hands under his cheeks. I move my body until my crossed legs are under him and lower his head onto me, like I’m a human pillow. Something close to comfort flickers across his eyes and I start stroking his cheek.

“Mary should be here any minute,” my dad says from behind me. Looking over my shoulder, I see he’s holding a bunch of old blankets and everything else I asked him.

“Pass me to the pillow,” I reply, avoiding looking at him directly. I hold my hand out and he hands it to me, when I notice its Ocean’s. Holding my breath, I slide out from under Patch’s head and replace it with a pillow.

“Your mother should be out here soon,” my dad says solemnly. “First she’s calling the vet to see if there’s anything he can do.” I finally meet his eyes, asking him if the vet can help with anything other than speeding up the process. He shakes his head no.

“Oh my god.”

My dad and I both turn to the outside of the stall, seeing Mary standing there in her red jacket. She’s already crying, rushing to Patch’s side.