Tonight, it means he’s alive.
Nate seemsto think smiling and saying he’s fine will make it true. I watch as he walks gingerly over to the refrigerator in the loft, moving as carefully as though the floor were made of paper and he’s trying not to fall through. When he reaches for the carton of juice, he winces.
“We should drive to the hospital today, and have them check you out,” I tell him, the same way I’ve made the suggestion every day this week.
“No, it’s okay. All they’ll do is x-ray my chest, tell me I have a broken rib or two, and send me home with instructions to rest and take ibuprofen.” He shrugs, and surprise, surprise, smiles at me. “Waste of money and time.”
I sigh. I can’tmakehim go, but damnit, I want a fucking medical professional to look him over and assure me he’s not going to die or be in pain the rest of his life. He shuffles over to the couch and I want to scream at the way he lowers himself down cautiously. Once he’s there, he leans back and sighs.
“Nate.”
“Yeah?” He grins at me, head tipped against the back of the couch. He pats the cushion next to him, a wordless invitation for me to join him. I do, because I haven’t quite made it past the desire to keep him where I can see him.
“How are you going to drive your truck all the way to South Carolina next week? You’re in way too much pain to be doing that.”
“It’ll be better by then, though,” he says, although even he doesn’t sound sure. Optimism seems to be Nate’s default setting, while mine tends toward fatalism. I don’t think he’s going to feel at all better by next week.
“I thought I might cancel my flight,” I tell him carefully. His fingers play with the hem of my long-sleeved shirt, but he doesn’t go looking for skin.
“Really? You mean you’ll ride back with me, then?”
Nate’s green eyes, so lovely and expressive, seem to brighten with joy. He is the easiest person to make happy.
“Yeah, I was thinking I could. Help you drive, and take care of you.”
It’s thetake care of youpart that is really why I want to do the road trip with him. I have a feeling, if left to his own devices, he’ll just pull off the road and sleep in his truck when he needs a break, instead of getting a hotel for a night. He’ll eat nothing but gas station snacks and fast food, and will probably forget to take scheduled pain meds.
“I’d love for you to ride with me!” he says happily, exactly the way I knew he would. I haven’t just been thinking of cancelling my return flight—I’d already done it days ago.
“Okay, great.” That settled, I relax further into the couch and bring up the notes app on my phone. I’d started a grocery list of things we need for the road trip. Nate’s fingers abandon my sleeve and settle on my leg, tapping and fiddling with the fabric.
Nate, with his boundless energy, does not do well with convalescence. Yesterday, he’d told me he was going to go help muck out the stables and I’d thought I was going to have to physically tie him down to prevent him. He lasts five minutes sitting next to me while I work on the grocery list.
“Want to go for a walk?” he asks hopefully. I smile.
“Sure.”
“We can take Tuna,” he adds, as he struggles to stand from the low couch, arm wrapped around his stomach as though that’ll keep it from hurting.
I do grab Tuna, clipping a lead rope on his halter while he uses his lips to nibble on my fingers. He’s already pretty good at walking on a lead, although he does get distracted and try to eat everything we pass. Already, in the two months I’ve been here, he’s grown exponentially. It makes me a little sad, actually, knowing he won’t be this small and spunky forever.
“What are you guys going to do with him?” I ask Nate curiously, as we stroll aimlessly through the field behind the barn. I know they’re running a business here and they can’t keep every single horse, but I really want this one to be here when I come back.
“Do with him?” Nate asks, eyebrows raised beneath the brim of his hat. “I don’t know, I guess that’s up to you. What do you want to do with him?”
I stop walking and Tuna bumps into my back. Immediately, he tries to nibble on my shirt.
“What do you mean?”
“Marcos,” Nate says on a laugh, reaching out a hand to scratch Tuna’s neck and distract him. “He was your surprise! He’s yours.”
“You…you can’t give me a horse, Nate! How much money is he worth?” He just grins at me. I look at Tuna’s narrow face and fuzzy nose, the brown broken up by a long white blaze. “You really want me to have him?”
Nate’s face softens. “Of course. Originally, he was my secret weapon to entice you to come live here and fall in love with me. But turns out you didn’t need any enticing for that.”
“Oh my god,” I snort, shaking my head at him. “You were using baby Tuna as a bribe?”
“He was in on it the whole time. Look.” Nate points to where Tuna has discovered the hem of my pants, legs spread wide as he investigates. “He wants you to stay, too. It was all part of the plan.”
