Quick A/N
Just wanted to say that my favorite comment including a magestic baby narwhal was written by: @Just_a_Meow_Monster . I'm sorry you cracked your phone.
After I eat dinner, I head out to the barn to see Trigger. He's in his stall, as I bathed him this evening and don't want him to roll tonight. Besides, it's a lot easier to get him from his stall in the morning than from the paddock.
I slip into his stall, and press my hand to his cheek.
"Hey boy," I coo, rubbing circles onto his face with my thumb.
His eye meets mine, a chocolatey pool of warmth.
"You know, Trig," I whisper. "You've changed a lot. When I met you, you knocked me into a puddle. Completely ruined my favorite shorts, you know."
I chuckle lightly at the memory, my lips curving upward in a smile.
"I couldn't even catch you, let alone stand beside you in your stall. You almost knocked me out when I tried. I'd never be able to do this," I say quietly, running my hand down his neck.
"I can't believe I'm going to have to leave you," I say, water appearing in the corner of my eyes. "I mean, I knew from the beginning I was going to leave, Hell, I wanted to leave when I got here. But now- god, I can't stand the thought of leaving you."
I reach my arms around his neck, lying my head down against his shoulder. I sit there silently for a while, waiting for my breathing to calm down.
"God," I snort, letting go of Trigger, "Chey would tease me so bad if she saw me getting choked up over a horse."
I pause, waiting for the sharp pain that always comes when I think of Chey. But it doesn't come.
Instead, a warm feeling of safety comes over me. The feeling Trigger gives me.
I smile, and place a kiss below his forelock.
"Goodnight Trig," I sigh. "I love you."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Where the hell is my sweatshirt," I mutter to myself, tearing through my suitcase.
It's about 11:30 and I can't sleep, my mind clouded with worry for Avery, wherever he is.
I am looking for my favorite, soft purple sweatshirt to sleep in. Despite the hot weather outside, the house itself is chilly, and my tank top just isn't cutting it.
I close my eyes for a minute, trying to retrace my steps to the last place I wore it.
My eyes snap wide open when I remember.
I wore it to bed the last night I slept in Avery's room. I got hot in the middle of the night and took it off, tossing it under the bed.
I groan, and make my way to his room.
At least he's not home yet.
At that thought, a sinking feeling appears in my stomach.
He's not home yet.
I can't imagine it taking him more than two hours at the cemetery, and that's being generous.
But he's been gone all day, without a trace.
I enter his room, frowning at the sight of it.
The only light is from that of a lamp on his nightstand that he forgot to turn off. His bed is made up perfectly, although there is a slight indentation in the center of it, as if he layed down without pulling the covers back.
YOU ARE READING
Recovery
Teen FictionBOOK 1 OF RECOVERY SERIES Grace Adams has battled with depression for the majority of her life, but her best friend Chey always kept her sane. But after Chey disappears from her life, Grace completely loses it, falling back into all of her old habit...