by E. J. Noyes
“An earworm doesn’t sound all that great, honestly.”
“Usually not, but this one is going to be incredible.” She kissed the tip of my nose then seemed to reconsider and moved lower to my lips. The kiss was gentle and slow and when we parted it seemed as if her tension had fallen away. “I’m sorry, and I admit maybe I took the be neutral too far into be cool territory.”
I held my thumb and forefinger a quarter of an inch apart. “Lil bit. In future, why don’t you talk to me about it? If you’re not sure about something with us, then I’d prefer we discussed it, rather than either of us being uncertain and risking upset.”
She paused. “In future?”
“Yes. I am here for a future. With you. Whatever that might look like and however we can make it work. And I’m still on board with waiting until after the Olympics. I’m on board with whatever you need right now.”
The conflict danced across her face. “Okay. I think what I need right now is for you to be around, but…for there to be no pressure. I know it’s kind of selfish, but—”
“I can do that.” I held up both hands. “No pressure at all.”
“Thank you. But even if I don’t get much time to talk to you about anything other than Dewey, I’ll be thinking about you. When I’m not thinking of the whole Olympics thing that is.”
“And I’ll be thinking about you too. I’m also here, you know? To talk about whatever you want if you need to. Please don’t shut me out. Personal stuff aside, I need you to be talking with me so we can keep Dewey sound.”
“I won’t. I…think it keeps me sound too,” she whispered.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Caitlyn
Olympic nerves, I discovered, were no worse than regular big-show nerves. The equestrian organizing committee had everything running so smoothly that there was no external stress. Just mild internal stress, which was normal. Dew had sailed through the trot-up, as had all the US Team horses, which meant we were all cleared to compete. Addie had watched us like a hawk, arms crossed and a thumbnail in her mouth as we’d run along the hard, flat surface to confirm the horses were sound. I’d spent the first day of competition watching Dakota and Jesse give solid performances, then had a light training session with Dew before dinner, social media, and bed.
I woke on my Grand Prix test day after a good sleep, had my usual quick workout to loosen up, ate breakfast, and took a car to Deodoro. Wren had texted me from the stalls at the buttcrack of dawn and I’d been getting steady updates all morning to let me know we were on track for our ride time of 2:24 p.m. All dressage competitions had precise scheduling but the Olympics organizers seemed to have dialed it up a notch, cutting down allocated times to the exact amount needed to enter the stadium, circle the arena, do a test and exit the stadium again.
Wren would have made sure Dew had breakfast, taken him for a walk, done some stretches with him and given him a solid grooming to make him feel good and get his blood moving. Then she’d wash and dry him, braid his mane, make him look even handsomer—if that were possible—give him a small lunch snack and have him tacked up ready for our warm-up forty minutes before my allocated start time. The air felt electrified when I walked through the grounds, as if everyone present was humming with the same excitement I was.
Addie had been flitting around the Team USA cabin, the stalls, the warm-up arenas and everywhere between. We’d managed a quick “Hi, how are you” exchange and even this simple short conversation was enough to settle my nerves.
I’d decided to take advantage of the air-conditioned indoor arena to try to keep Dew cool, before moving outside for some acclimatization before our test. I was joined by Wren, Mary, Ian, some other riders, journalists, and a dozen spectators who were filming me on their phones and would continue to do so while I rode. The warm-up arena held four other horses and I thanked the gate attendant who checked my credentials then let me in.
I caught Ian’s nod, and his murmured encouragement. Wren, with Dew’s halter and a bucket of assorted stuff in her arms, offered a sneaky thumbs-up. A few feet behind them, partially hidden by a post, stood Addie. She was in profile, expression hidden by sunglasses and the shadow of her ball cap. I took the few seconds I had before my mind blanked of everything except me and Dew to stare at her, absorb her.
If only we could make it work outside of this. We had so many obstacles and issues, but maybe… Maybe I should stop acting like a walking hormone on the day of my Olympic debut.
Ian’s, “You set?” in my ear confirmed it was time to put everything aside except my ride.
I always felt sorry for Dewey in the communal warm-up arenas at shows, because I sensed how much he wanted to say hi to the other horses. Over the years we’d reached a compromise where during our initial walk he could look around at the other horses—but no touching—and the moment I took up the reins it was time for game face. There was a special kind of tunnel vision when riding but being in a shared arena meant I had to take some of my focus away from the ride to make sure we were obeying the arena rules and watching for those who inevitably didn’t.
I played with some transitions within trot and loosened Dew’s neck and back with changes of flexion and some long and forward neck stretching. When he was warm and loose I brought his head and neck back up again into a collected frame and added some pressure. Half-pass across the arena in both directions. Passage, piaffe. Canter, tempi changes, pirouettes. Ian was mostly silent in my ear, except for the occasional comments of, “More more, yes good, rhythm, rhythm.” Dew felt forward and supple, attentive and enthused about working, but not explosive. Game on.
From outside the fence, a steward called, “Caitlyn Lloyd, USA. Ten minutes.”
I raised my hand in acknowledgment, then rode out of the arena and halted outside the building. The heat hit me like a smothering blanket. Bah. Wren and Addie appeared as if they’d teleported. Addie studied Dew, her mouth turned down on the right side the way it always did when she was concentrating. Wren handed a bottle of water up to me. “How’s he feel?”
I drank a few long gulps. “Good. Like himself.”
Addie checked his gums, then pinched the skin on his neck and I saw her shoulders drop. She mumbled something to herself then peered up at me and Wren. “Hydrated, capillary reflex looks good.” She turned to Wren. “He can have a mouthful of water if he wants it.”
He didn’t. Wren wiped Dew’s coat where Addie had checked his skin, as if she’d messed up his perfection. They followed me to the ten-minute arena—the outdoor arena lined with eucalypts where we could have a final tune-up before entering the stadium. Now wasn’t the time to fiddle. Dew didn’t need to be settled or encouraged or trained, so I used the time for some walk and trot with him stretching his neck and back to stay loose. Another steward indicated that it was time for me to enter the arena. While Wren hastily pulled off Dew’s protective boots I pulled out my earpiece and handed it down to Ian before double checking my coat buttons, my helmet strap, the fastenings on my gloves, and repositioning my tails behind the saddle.
Wren, unable to help herself, polished everything she could touch. “See you on the flipside,” she said. “Kick some dressage-test ass.”
I called over my shoulder, “Do dressage tests have asses?”
The steward walking at Dew’s shoulder to escort me to the gate snickered.
Loudspeakers echoed through the stadium and Dew practically dragged me into the space, his trot so exuberant that his knees were almost up around his ears. He always knew when it was showtime and being the crowd-loving attention seeker he was, dialed up his exuberance to max levels. Despite his obvious excitement, he was still soft and attentive and I let him be because there was absolutely no reason for me to ever discipline a horse for wanting to try too much.
The stadium was a little over half-full and the announcer talking about me was a blur of white noise as we trotted around the outside of the competition arena laid out as usual with a foot-high white fence, and the are
na letters around the outside marked with boxes containing decorative fauna. Dew’s ears moved back and forth but he wasn’t tense, just getting a feel for the atmosphere. The announcements quieted and the bell sounded to indicate I could start. I brought Dew back to a walk and did my superstitious and pointless, because they were already organized, rein organization.
Collected canter along the outside of the arena, small half circle to line up with the center line, and I entered the arena. I inhaled slowly as I saluted, gathered my reins again and then we were off. After consulting with Ian and Mary, we’d decided to throw everything at the test, and it was up to me to find the balance between big powerful movements, and the risk of breaking gaits. One of our strengths was accuracy, and I knew every movement would be exactly where it was supposed to be. All I had to do was be bold.
We had a small loss of consistency and elevation in our final piaffe, likely because Dew was tired and sapped by the heat. But when I asked him to give me just a little more, it was like he heaved a sigh, and said, “Okay, I’ll do it.” My final halt, salute was one of the best feelings I’d ever had and the moment I was done, I leaned down to thank Dew for giving me everything he had. I kept up my pats as we exited the arena at a walk, alternating with pats and waving to the roaring crowd.
I’d just ridden a dressage test at the Olympics. Holy shit. My throat tightened. I knew Dew was tired and hot—heck, I was tired and hot—but every time I’d asked, he’d answered. Masses of emotion hit me all at once. Relief and pride were the most dominant, followed closely by something I always experienced after riding a test, and had never managed to figure out, but that always made me feel like crying.
The same steward who’d escorted us to the gate took us to have my tack checked and confirmed as legal. She had to stretch her legs to keep up with Dewey’s enthusiastic walk and had a hand raised to keep him from nuzzling her very interesting Panama hat. The moment we rounded the corner where my people were waiting, Dew stuck his nose out to greet Wren and her bucket of stuff. I had to remind him we weren’t yet done and rode him into the shade cast by the trees.
Underneath me, Dewey was huffing to catch his breath as the official checked his noseband and bits and ensured that he hadn’t bitten his tongue. Being out of breath didn’t stop Dew trying to mouth the man’s fingers. I offered the most contrite “Sorry” I could muster with my dry mouth. The early afternoon heat and humidity were horrible and I felt sorry for Dew who had to endure the checks before he was released for a cold shower.
I dismounted and at the sound of the announcer, turned back to check my score on the huge digital screen visible through the trees.
80.785%.
I blinked hard, trying desperately to keep the tears at bay. Not only had I scored damned well but my test, which was the last of our team’s for the Grand Prix, had put us in third place overall which was a brilliant spot going into the Grand Prix Special which would decide the team medals. The small crowd around us erupted into cheers, applause, hugs, backslaps, and pats for Dew. I drew in a slow breath, trying to calm my emotion while Dewey searched for entertainment.
The video camera beside me was as intriguing as the official’s fingers. Dew swung his nose and put it right in the lens. Hello, viewers, this is Dewey reporting live from the Olympics where I’ve just been a very good boy. I offered another “Sorry,” this time to the laughing cameraman who was fumbling for a cloth to clean the camera.
“Happy?” Wren asked as she handed me a bottle of water.
Still aware I was being filmed, albeit by a probably fogged-up camera thanks to Dew’s hello, I nodded and drank a polite mouthful when all I wanted to do was upend the bottle over myself. “Yeah, he felt really good. I was a bit worried by that final piaffe, he felt utterly beat but he picked up when I asked him to.”
Wren grinned. “Superstar.”
The official checked my spurs, then Dew’s abdomen to make sure I hadn’t spurred him to bleeding and declared all was fine. Not that I’d expected anything differently. I offered a smile and a genuine, “Thank you very much.”
Wren took possession of Dew so I could hydrate before going to the press box. I drank half a bottle of water, removed my tails, then checked myself in the compact mirror she offered. “Right. I have to go answer some questions. You two okay here?”
“Absolutely perfect.” Wren grabbed my coat and hung it over her forearm. “Go pretend to be extroverted.”
“I’ll do my best.” I hugged Dew’s neck then left him in Wren’s capable hands so I could go face the firing squad. Uh, press.
After fifteen minutes of questions and confirming how pleased I was with our ride and the fact Team USA was in such a good position, and my relief that Dewey had overcome his bee encounter, a signal from the back of the room indicated this would be the final question before I had to vacate for the next rider. I paused for a moment after the journalist had finished, trying to phrase my response in a way that didn’t sound like every other answer I’d given. “It sounds so clichéd, but I’m just so lucky to have such a willing and talented partner in Dewey, and a brilliant team surrounding me. I would never have enjoyed the successes I have without the unwavering support of my family. I’d be lying if I said it’s been easy—nobody makes it this far in dressage without years of hard work and dedication.” I laughed. “But I’ve been fortunate to have enjoyed a little luck as well.”
I thanked everyone present then slipped out of the room to go check on my equine partner. I’d barely made it five steps outside before I was surrounded by people. After small talk, photos and signing a bunch of photos of me and Dew, I slipped through the crowds and made my way back to the stalls.
“How is he?” I asked Wren as I slipped into the stall.
“Nibbly,” she said around the tool in her mouth that she used to unpick the thread holding Dew’s braids together.
“Situation normal.”
“He spent some time with the cooling fans after his hose-down and he’s had a good drink.” She undid the last braid and combed her fingers through the curly mane hair to straighten it. “I’m about to grab him a snack.”
I gave Dew a few carrots and a kiss on his nose and knew immediately which of the two things he wanted more of. “Such a clever guy, yes you are.” I got a face full of Dew breath. “Okay, I need to go get changed.”
“And eat something. And maybe relax for five minutes?” Wren’s eyebrow raise was pointed. “You know, those things you should have done before coming here.”
“Right. That. I just wanted to check he was okay.”
“If he breathes wrong, you’ll know about it.”
“I know. Thank you.” I hugged my groom around the waist then left so I could deal with myself.
I’d just rounded the corner when the one person I never expected or wanted to see appeared.
“Caitlyn.” My ex sounded as if I was the best thing she’d laid eyes on all week.
“Elin,” I squeaked out. Elin wasn’t part of the Danish team, so why was she here? After our breakup two years ago, Elin’s Grand Prix horse had died tragically after a serious colic and she’d been away from the Big Tour circuit in Europe ever since. I’d thought that perhaps the universe was looking out for me.
“I was hoping to see you,” Elin purred. Goddamn that stupid sexy accent.
“Given I’m competing it’s not exactly a surprise.”
“No, I suppose you’re right.” She touched my arm, lingering longer than was polite, even for someone I’d been naked with. “You look great. And such a brilliant first ride.”
I had to give Elin one thing. Despite everything she’d done to break my heart, she knew how much I hated the me-versus-you atmosphere of the dressage scene. From the first time I’d mentioned it, she’d always given me honest feedback and never made me feel uncomfortable. Well, not in that regard anyway. Everything else was fair game.
“Thank you.” I glanced down at the tag hanging from a lanyard around her neck. Not a spectator
ticket, but one of the team family passes. “So why are you here?”
“My girlfriend is competing. Laura Richards,” she supplied without me prompting. “For Great Britain.”
“I know. Well I didn’t know you two were dating, but I know who Laura is.”
“Mmm. Listen, why don’t we catch up for a drink later? And then…” She glanced around as if checking how alone we were and her voice lowered to a murmur. “Are you seeing anyone?”
I almost said yes, but at the last moment decided not to drag Addie into this, partly because she didn’t deserve to be part of the Elin Shitshow and partly because I had no idea what she and I were doing. Aside from sleeping together and wondering what came after. So I evaded with, “You are.”
“Semantics and nothing more.”
My laugh felt like dust. “You really haven’t changed at all.”
Addie walked up behind Elin and when she spotted me with someone else started backing away. Elin, master of body language, turned around. I had no idea what she’d seen on my face but clearly something had given me away. Probably a mix of joy at seeing Addie and panic that Elin was there too. Addie offered an apologetic wave then disappeared around a corner.
Elin turned back slowly, as if using the time to think of what she was about to say. She raised a slow eyebrow. Damn her single eyebrow control. Before, it used to make me gooey inside. Now, it just annoyed me. After a dramatic pause, she asked, “A friend of yours?”
I almost brushed her question aside to point out that Addie was our veterinarian and the marvel who’d worked her butt off so Dew could compete and have that brilliant ride she’d just mentioned. But Addie was so much more than that. “She is, yes.”
My ex rarely hid her emotions, and now was no different. Glee was written all over her. “And then some more than a friend I think. That look you just had on your face is the same one you used to show when seeing me for the first time after months apart.”
I wasn’t worried about Elin spilling her discovery to anyone because while she was many frustrating and upsetting things, she was always discreet. But having her know, having someone see that private part of myself felt weird and…wrong. And if Elin had seen it then surely Addie did. How embarrassing. “We’re just seeing how it goes, or if it even can go.”
