My first thought went to Josh. Perhaps she was seeking comfort in her former fiancé’s arms… because I certainly wasn’t able to provide that.
Rose’s silhouette slid into the vehicle.
“Want me to track her?” Gunner said behind me, magically appearing like a ghost.
“No. I’ll do it. Go home, Gunner. I’ve got this.”
“Take my truck. It’s at the bottom of the ridge.”
“I’ll lose her by then. Spirit and I can cut down the middle of the mountain as she takes the roads.”
“Alright, I’ll stay and watch the house.”
I jumped onto Spirit in one practiced motion, the cold saddle biting through my jeans. Her body shifted beneath mine—strong, grounded, ready. I looked down at my younger brother. “I owe you.”
“I’m eating the rest of your tacos–call it even.”
I flapped the reins. “Let’s go, girl.”
Spirit took off at a light canter, her hooves dull against the frozen earth. We moved down the slope and into the black woods, following the red taillights that bobbed and dipped ahead of us. The cold gnawed at my face. My bloodied knuckles burned on the reins, but I leaned low and pressed a hand against Spirit’s neck, grounding myself in the heat of her.
The trees closed around us like a tunnel. The forest was silent except for the creak of leather and the rhythmic pulse of hooves over fallen leaves. A distant owl called once, then went quiet again.
Even though it had been months since Spirit and I had ridden this stretch of the mountain, she moved like she knew it—like she knew who we were following, and why. Rose’s words drifted through my head.
Horses can be very therapeutic, you know.
I reached forward and stroked Spirit’s mane, feeling the sleek dampness under my throbbing fingers as she picked up a narrow hiking trail and pushed into a steady trot.
Rose and Spirit.
Two creatures with fire in their bones. Strong-willed. Sharp-eyed. Impossible to tame, but God help the man who tried. One I’d tamed. The other…
The other terrified me. Because somewhere along the line, I’d let her in—and then shoved her back with both hands, like a fool.
I was a piece of work. A man made of muscle, instinct, and trauma. And she was everything soft and sharp at once. She made me want things I had no right to want.
Following her taillights, we broke out of the woods and into open pasture. Acres of frostbitten grass shimmered inthe moonlight as we crested the final ridge. The red taillights curved down a gravel road toward a small ranch house tucked against the tree line, no more than a few miles from Rose’s place.
Definitely not Josh Davis’s house.
So whose was it?
Spirit and I veered left, slipping into the trees like a shadow. I guided her to a quiet ridge just beyond the clearing. Her breath came hot and rhythmic beneath me as we watched.
Rose parked and stepped out, her figure framed in the low beam of a porch light.
The front door opened.
A silhouette stood waiting.
I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman.
Rose said something I couldn’t hear, then stepped inside.
The door closed.
I pulled the gun from my belt and clicked my heels. “Come on, girl.”
