Kell had withstood the yelling and demerits, the fact that he had extra kitchen duty, and the anxious call from his mom checking in to see if he was okay.
They let him continue riding lessons for the rest of summer camp, but only with supervision, never alone. Even with those restrictions, he’d been far from miserable about it and had forever tucked in his heart the memory of that ride.
Maybe he’d tell Marston about it. Some day. Maybe. Or maybe Marston would agree with all the camp counselors that he’d been a damn fool.
He’d told his mom about that ride, once he’d gotten home and unpacked, leaving his laundry all in a heap. She’d listened wide-eyed and then sighed and kissed him on the forehead. He’d been much younger then and shorter, so she’d had to bend down to do this, but he felt that kiss still.
Sometimes, when he missed her, which was a lot, he had flickers of memories of how she’d stand there simply watching as his dad beat him. Not stopping Dad. Not stopping any of it. But she’d been crying. When he looked back now, he knew she’d been afraid. Maybe of Dad turning and using the belt on her. But he’d not been able to ask, and now, perhaps, would never know.
“Everything all right?” asked Marston.
Kell looked up, his hands on the horse’s neck, the brush frozen mid-stroke. He felt the words inside of him like chunks of ice in a half-frozen stream, pushing to get out. Teetering, he didn’t know if he should let the ice go or not. But then he saw the genuine interest in Marston’s eyes, a flicker among hazel-blue lights.
I miss my mom, he wanted to say, but instead only said, “I went to horse camp one summer.”
“Oh, so you know how to ride?” asked Marston, his eyebrows going up.
“It was a long time ago,” said Kell, forcing a little laugh, making a mockery of his own memories.
“Some things stay with you,” said Marston, as if agreeing how silly some memories could be. Then, with a slight tuck of his chin, his eyes still on Kell, he added, “Whether you want them to or not,” as if musing on painful memories of his own. “I’m always here if you want to talk.”
With that, he patted the mare’s back, then slid his broad hand down her spine, gently curling his fingers into her coat.
“Let’s finish up,” Marston said, and the two of them got back to work.
Grooming the trio of horses was followed by putting everything back in the shed until everything was neat and tidy, with saddles on racks, and bridles on pegs, a clean citrus smell left behind by the bug spray. Then they trundled up to return the bug sprayer, nozzle wiped, back to Jamie. Which left them just enough time to get back to the valley to wash up for dinner.
Which was its own pleasure. Simply being with Marston made everything feel so normal, from washing at the sinks in the restroom, to stopping at each of their tents to slip on a clean shirt.
“Appearances are important,” Marston said as he smoothed the placket of his snap-button shirt. “And don’t let anybody tell you any different.”
Listening to Marston, following his lead, took Kell right back to the before times. Before he’d opened up to his parents. Before he’d run away. Before, life had become so confusing that each decision had felt like a life or death turn in the road. Jump this train or hitch a ride on that eighteen-wheeler? Steal from the 7-Eleven or scrounge through the trash behind a movie theater?
No, with Marston, it was different, and it made Kell finally start to feel like he could slow down his racing brain and just be.
“There you fellows are,” said Gabe, as Kell and Marston entered the mess tent side by side. “I just saw the shed, and it looks amazing.”
“You’re a dab hand at setting things to rights, that’s for sure,” said Royce with a beaming smile.
“Thank you.” Marston stood in line for the buffet without any other response than that, not even breaking a smile, rather like he was all on his own. Maybe even like he didn’t believe the compliments he’d just gotten.
That didn’t feel right. Wasn’t right.
Standing right behind Marston, Kell slipped close, close enough to brush his chin along the back of Marston’s arm.
“Eh?” asked Marston, looking over his shoulder at Kell.
“We did good,” said Kell in a low, friendly voice, like he might have back in school when trying to be nice to the new kid. When he’d thought about flirting with that new kid on account of the way a curl of hair danced across a forehead, inviting Kell to thinkYou look like a picture in a story.
Which was a little odd, because Marston wasn’t the new kid, Kell was. At least in this scenario.
Still, the small curve at the corner of Marston’s mouth emboldened Kell in all kinds of ways that he’d not been expecting. He wanted to see more of that smile, to tuck it into his heart and call it his own.
When they’d gotten their dinners, an assortment of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, brown gravy, and fresh fruit salad, Kell sat at the end, on the other side of Marston, in what felt like a very small attempt to make sure Marston was part of the conversation.
He could have been included, if he wanted to be, and Kell knew that. He just didn’t seem to want to. When Kell had been in high school, being a part of the track team had always felt like coming home, and he wanted that for Marston. That feeling of belonging.
“Will you start riding lessons tomorrow?” asked Gabe as he shoveled in some mashed potatoes.
