The wild horse wandered over to where I stood, nuzzling the fence with its wet nose. I reached out, tentative, and it let me touch the velvet skin. Its breath was hot and sharp, full of grass and wind.
I stroked the horse’s nose, glancing back at Gunner, who was still all business with his men.
Maddie said, “You want to go over there, don’t you?”
Yes. “No.”
She arched her brow. “Liar. Go say hi.”
I hesitated. Then, “What if he doesn’t want to see me?”
She leaned in, voice fierce. “You’re Brie fucking Lawson. He should be so lucky.”
I snorted, but the words stuck in my head. I gave the horse one last scratch, then let myself stare at Gunner just one beat longer. He still didn’t look over.
That was fine. I could wait.
The horse came back around slow, hooves slicing twin furrows through the red dirt, then stopped just out of reach, nostrils flared. There was something familiar in the way it assessed me, a challenge, maybe, or a test. I stuck out my hand, palm open, and waited.
Again, the animal didn’t shy away. It nosed my fingers, hot breath dampening my skin. I let out a shaky laugh because I couldn’t believe this was actually happening.
Maddie took a photo. “You look like Snow White, but more…” she squinted at the camera, “…Texas.”
I petted the horse’s nose, feeling the buzz of energy under its velvet skin. It was still wild, but not angry; more like it wanted to be understood.
“I used to ride, you know,” I said, voice just loud enough for Maddie to hear. “High school. English saddle mostly, but we did some jumping. I was pretty good.”
She looked at me, skeptical. “Not the same as that,” she said, gesturing at the horse. “That thing would eat you for breakfast.”
I scoffed. “It’s just a horse.”
Maddie leaned closer. “You are not going in there.”
I glanced at Gunner, who was still engrossed in conversation. “He said it’s tamed.”
“Yeah, by him. And even then, barely.”
I looked at my boots—tan, ostrich leather, stupidly expensive and barely broken in. My jeans hugged my thighs just right, and the shirt I wore was plain but flattering. For the first time since Paris, I felt almost like I belonged somewhere. It was intoxicating, and maybe a little reckless.
“Watch this,” I said, swinging a leg over the bottom rail.
“Brie, no!” Maddie hissed, but I was already inside the pen.
The ground was soft and uneven, and I nearly twisted my ankle before I even reached the horse. I walked slow, hands out, making those soft “shhh” sounds I’d heard Finn making. The animal eyed me, but didn’t spook.
I touched its neck, ran my hand up to the mane. It shivered but didn’t move away. My heart was pounding so hard I could barely think, but all I wanted in that moment was to do something—anything—that would make Gunner notice.
Maddie’s voice came through the rails, panicked but low: “If you die, I’m not giving your eulogy. You know that, right?”
I grinned, almost giddy. “I’ll be fine.”
The horse turned its head, massive black eyes staring me down. I patted its withers, then, before I could chicken out, reached for the saddle horn and pulled myself up.
It happened fast. One second I was airborne, jeans creaking, boots braced in the stirrups. The next, the horse exploded, bucking with a violence that made the entire world go sideways.
I screamed, a sound that was part terror, part exhilaration. The animal whipped its head, slamming me into the saddle so hard my teeth clacked. My hands slipped on the reins, and I grabbed for the mane, holding on for dear life as the beast twisted and launched itself across the pen.
I heard Maddie shouting, “Brie, get off! Get off!” But it was too late. The horse was in charge now, and I was just along for the ride.
