“Can I stay over at your place sometimes?” he asks. “I won’t crowd you or anything, or eat your food. But maybe a couple nights a week?—”
“You can stay any night. I’ll give you the spare key, and you can come over whenever you want. You don’t crowd me, Nate. I want you around.”
“Okay, and…and maybe once I graduate, we could come back here?”
The question is asked so softly, I can barely hear the words over the crack of the firewood. Sparks drift lazily above the flames, and the breeze carries the smoke away before it can reach us. I press my face into Nate’s hair, wanting to smell him over the fire. He’s not even questioning that we’ll still be together in a year, almost two years’ time. Behind us, the horses shift, nickering quietly.
“I think so. If you still want me to, by then.”
He sits up, dislodging my hand from where I’d tucked it in his shirt. He half turns around, just enough that he can look at me. Backlit by the fire, I can hardly see his face. Not that it particularly matters. I’d know him blind.
“I’ll want you to. I love you, and that’s not going to change.”
“Even when I don’t want you to touch me? Or cuddle?” I trail my fingertips up his side, drawing attention to how close we’re sitting.
“Even then.”
“Even when I take long trips to visit Max?”
“Especially then,” he agrees firmly. “Because I’ll miss you so bad, it’ll be incredible once you return.”
“Well, good. Because I love you, too.”
He smiles and kisses me. It’s a kiss laden with urgency, and the force of it presses me backward until he remembers my back is against a tree and he eases up. We breathe into each other’s mouths for a second, until Nate is satisfied and turns back around. This time, once he’s settled, he pulls my hand onto his belly before I can do it myself. He snags my other hand and wraps it around himself as well, for good measure.
I rest my chin on his shoulder and let the silence unfurl comfortably. I think I could really come to love camping. Nate yawns, and I squeeze my arms around him.
“Ready to go to bed?”
“Not yet.” He shifts, pushing himself back against me. “This is nice.”
I hum an agreement and press my face against the side of his head. Behind us, the horses are silent but for the occasional swish of a tail. Thisisnice. If Nate wanted to sleep out here, just as we are, he’d hear no arguments about it from me.
21
Nate
Marcos is standingby the fence, forearm resting on the top rung where Uncle Jes is sitting. Below me, Annabelle’s sides heave in agitation and she tries to sidestep again. I correct her automatically, body rolling easily with the motion of hers. She tosses her head and stomps a front hoof, dragging it over the grass in annoyance.
“I warned you, kid,” Uncle Jes calls. Annabelle twitches at the volume, acting as though he blew an airhorn instead of raised his voice. Sighing, I rein her closer to the fence so we don’t have to yell, legs straining under the effort of keeping her in control. I cannot believe this is the horse someone bought their twelve-year-old.
“She’s not great,” I admit. Uncle Jes snorts, and Marcos looks between us silently. “This isn’t a horse for a kid, Jes.”
“Well, it’s the horse they bought. Fools,” he adds under his breath. “I told John I’d try, but no promises.”
Annabelle attempts to prance away from the fence, backfeet hopping a bit as though she’s contemplating trying to throw me off. I bring her under control, and her back quivers in indignation.
“Barrel horse?” I ask. Sometimes barrel horses are retired and struggle to find new homes, too used to being ran to death that they can’t do anything else.
“Maybe. I took her out in the north pasture, and let her have her head and she was fine. Seems she just wants to run.”
“Hm. Well, I’ll take her out and see how she does on the trail.”
“Good. That’s what they want her for.” Lifting his hat off, Uncle Jes scratches his forehead with the brim. “Pretty little thing, but the attitude is a bit rough.”
“Sometimes the antsy ones do better beyond the fence,” I say, trying to give Annabelle the benefit of the doubt, even though I’m pretty sure she’s just trouble. “I’ll take her out for a couple hours. Maybe the Trout Run trail?”
“It’s pretty washed out back there, you’d be better off on one of the east paths.” He tips his head back and looks at the clear blue sky. “Supposed to rain later, too, so make sure you’re home in time. I don’t want you riding back on that demon in the dark.”
