MILA Origins 2.0 - The Fire

closer and closer. Either I veered away now or carried out a split-second and idiotic attempt to slam my memory back into gear.
    I let the reins slip through my fingers. Idiotic it was.
    The mare’s powerful muscles gathered beneath my legs, and our soar into the air felt amazing, like I was part of Bliss and the two of us were flying.
    Until the stirrup gave under my right foot. Until the saddle slipped.
    I lost balance, slid sideways with the loosened saddle, saw the rocks rush toward me. I pictured my head splattering open like a broken egg while my pulse pounded a terrified drumbeat in my ears.
    You’re a goner flashed through my mind.
    And then my hands lashed out, quicker than I even knew I could move. I grabbed hold of Bliss’s mane, pulled myself upright with remarkable ease—just as Bliss’s front hooves crashed to the ground.
    “Yes!” An exhilarated laugh exploded from my mouth. So I hadn’t conjured up my past, but I did feel more alive than I had in weeks. Like the whole world had burst into high definition.
    Plus—I had wicked good reflexes. Maybe one day Momwould tell me if sports featured prominently in those missing chunks of my life.
    “Mila!”
    Speaking of whom…
    Busted.
    I slowed Bliss to a trot. My stomach clenched as we drew closer to the willowy figure who stood near the gravel driveway.
    Of course, the expression on Mom’s heart-shaped face was as poised as ever; not even a single blond hair strayed from her usual neat ponytail. The wiry arms crossed under her chest hinted at annoyance, but that was all the reaction I got. Disappointing, but hardly shocking.
    Nothing fazed Nicole Daily, not one of the critically injured horses she tended or an impromptu move to a new state, and certainly not one slightly rebellious, hugely heartbroken daughter.
    When I pulled the horse to a stop, Mom’s dark-blue eyes remained neutral behind the square frames of her glasses. “I’m sure I’ve told you not to ride faster than a walk. Was there a point to that?”
    I dismounted and patted the blowing horse on the neck. My shoulders hitched back. “No point.”
    Her eyebrows arched over her lenses, accentuating her surprise. Then her lipstick-free mouth flattened into a thin line.
    The spurt of satisfaction I felt wasn’t nice.
    “I see.” An abrupt shake of her head, followed by her slender fingers rubbing the spot between her brows.
    With a start, I noticed her hand was shaking when she extended it toward me, palm up. An uncharacteristically pleading gesture. “No, I don’t see. Mila, please, you can’t do this sort of thing. What if you’d had an accident, and then—”
    She broke off, but it didn’t matter. The flannel shirt I wore became heavier, burdened with the weight of words left unsaid.
    And then—maybe I’d lose you, too.
    For the first time since the move, I threw my arms around her and buried my face in the comforting bend of her neck. “I’m sorry,” I said, my words muffled against skin scented with a combination of rosemary and horse liniment. “Only slow rides from now on. Promise.”
    When Mom stiffened, I gripped her all the tighter. I wouldn’t let her slip away. Not this time. Her hand patted the spot above my left shoulder blade, so soft, so hesitant, I almost thought I’d imagined it. Like after this past month, she’d forgotten how.
    And maybe I did imagine it, because she untangled herself from my grasp a moment later and stepped away. I tried not to let the hurt show on my face while she adjusted the wire-framed glasses that only intensified the intellectualglint in her eyes. People said Mom didn’t look like a stereotypical veterinarian, not at all, not with those acres of blond hair and her petite frame and delicate features. She eschewed makeup as a waste of time, and her bare face only seemed to enhance her natural beauty.
    We looked completely different, the two of us. I was shorter, sturdier, with natural muscle like my dad and his brown hair and eyes, too. The quarter horse to her thoroughbred. But I liked to tell myself I had Mom’s heart-shaped face.
    And her stubbornness.
    “You have to follow the rules, Mila. I need you to be safe.”
    She hesitated before tucking my wind-blown hair behind my ears. As her fingers grazed my temples, her eyes closed. A tiny sigh escaped her lips.
    I stood frozen in place by the unexpected sweetness of her gesture, afraid that any sudden movement might startle her back into the present. I so, so wanted