Page 72 of Time To Learn

“All I’m saying is that I’ve followed my heart before, Mum,” I whisper. “It brought me nothing but pain and grief—am I wrong for being cautious? Is it so bad that I want to prevent that from happening again?”

Mum takes my hand and holds it close with both of hers as she leans forward in her seat, a fierce expression in hereyes.

“No, of course not. But remember this—following your heart also brought you your daughter. That bright, shooting star lying in bed upstairs?”

My throat clogs up with suppressed tears. All I can do is nod, unable to form any words for fear of breaking down in front ofher.

“Out of all the darkness and chaos, you were given her—the most precious gift on earth. That should remind you that something genuinely good came from the unlikeliest of places.”

I inhale deeply.

“What are you trying to say, Mum?” I whisper.

She releases my hands only to frame my face. She tucks some loose strands of my hair behind my ear and presses our foreheads close together.

“Don’t lock away your heart forever,” she whispers.

I can’t stop the tears anymore and close my eyes as I let themfall.

“I don’t know where the key is, Mum,” Icry.

“You’ll find it. Probably when you least expect it. The young man I saw tonight?”

I nod, still unable to meet hergaze.

“He. Is. Good,” she stresses. “I know it. I can feel it in my heart. You will too, eventually.”

I clench my teeth, doing everything in my power to keep my silence. I’m afraid I’ll say something scathing or hurtful if I speaknow.

That Turley stubbornness is a hard habit to break.

“Now, drink your tea, sweetheart,” Mum says before she places a soft kiss on my cheek. She caresses my cheek once, and I open my eyes. The knowing smile on her lips surprises me while it scares me at the sametime.

Silently, Mum gets up, walks to the sink, and pours away her forgotten tea. I take a shaky breath as she grabs her journal and pen from the table, and she pats my shoulder once as she walks pastme.

“Goodnight, Laura,” she murmurs.

I unclench my teeth and gulp in a deep lungful of air as I hear the click of the door shutting behindme.

“Goodnight,” I whisper, but it’s toolate.

A sense of claustrophobia fills me from within, and I start gasping for breath. Desperation to get away, to get out, takes a firm hold of me, and I lunge up and run to the backdoor. I wrench it open, ignoring the bark from Sally as I, with wheezing breaths, sprint out into the courtyard.

I try to run from my mind, which is screaming at me tostop.

But I can’t stop. I just can’t.

Panic leads me to the paddock at the far end of our grounds, and when the soft whinnying from the horses reaches my ears, I finally start to slow down. Breath heaving, I stop in front of the fence closest to me, leaning on it as I cry into the night.

It’s been a long time since the past has been able to hold me in its grasp like it’s doing rightnow.

I put my head on my arms, trying to pull myself together. I feel something nudging my shoulder and sniffle as I raise myhead.

Thunder’s watchful eyes meet mine, and my breath hitches as I take in that he’s the one who nudgedme.

“Hey, b-boy,” I stutter. “Thank you for trying to make me feel better.”

I’m scared he’ll get spooked if I move, but in my heart, I wish I could lean on him. The fence separating our bodies makes it difficult, so, instead, I keep gazing into his browneyes.

“I’ll be okay,” I whisper as he raises his head, blowing his warm breath over my cheek. The trust he’s showing me at this very moment makes me forget the past a little, and slowly, the dark memories fade away. My shattered heart heals a little.

Finally, as Thunder settles his head on my shoulder, I dare to raise my arms to place them around his neck. He lets out a long breath, settling in, and then the floodgates open again.

“Thank you,” I sob into his long mane, burrowing into his comfort.

It must be my imagination, or maybe I’m even dreaming, because, for a second, I think I hear a soft whisper in my ear, floating in the wind, and then it’s gone. But…it’s not possible.

I don’t recognise the words. I only know they sounded like Gaelic.

“We’ll be okay,” I murmur as my tears dry on my cheeks. “We’re survivors, aren’t we, Thunder? Whatever happens, we’ll make it. It’s not a choice. It’s who weare.”

Thunder leans into my arms, and, despite the havoc inside my head, I smile and breathe in the familiar scent. Horses don’t smellbad.

Instead, they always remind me ofhome.

“Yes. We’ll be okay,” I repeat.