I turn and study my horse, a thick blanket over his back in a stable three times the size of some of the others, decked in straw with a fucking underfloor heating system. “He needed a hug?”
As if on cue, Blaze turns to look at me with mournful eyes.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, now you got my horse looking at me like he’s been maltreated his entire life.”
The smile I get in return from Wren makes me realize there isn’t much I wouldn’t do to keep it there permanently. The darkness that drenched them this morning is lifted.
Wren scared the shit out of me when I first saw them, on their knees, trying so damned hard to scoop up the china fragments with their own hands.
“You want to ride him?” I ask.
Wren’s mouth opens, and their eyebrows rise high. “I can do that?”
I shrug. “Why not.”
“I’ve never been on a horse before. Like, he won’t just take off down a hill or something? I don’t mind a bit of risk, but not the kind that ends with broken bones.”
I approach Blaze and playfully nudge Wren out of the way with my shoulder.
“You wanna pop Wren’s horse-ride cherry?” I ask Blaze, reaching for the halter he’s currently wearing so I can rub his muzzle.
Blaze tries to shake off my touch.
“Yeah, you do. Let’s get you ready.”
“Can I help?” Wren asks.
Knowing Blaze like I do, I shake my head. “I got it. Blaze doesn’t love the process.”
I know the stable hands at Atom’s ranch do a good job of taking care of him, but I still take a moment to use a curry comb to loosen any dirt or loose hairs from where the tack will sit. “You want to make sure there’s nothing that’s gonna rub or cause sores before you put everything on him,” I say to Wren as they lean back against the wall opposite the stall.
When I’m done, I lead Blaze out into the center of the stable, where I tie him up near the rear of the racks holding the equipment I need.
I place a nice thick saddle pad on his back and slide it, so all his hair lies flat beneath it. “Even though he’s descended from war horses, he can be a bit precious if he feels uncomfortable,” I explain.
“Aren’t we all?” Wren replies.
I glance up and down their body. Wren is clad in my thickest and warmest leather jacket, and yet they’re still blowing into their hands.
“I guess there’s truth to that.”
Blaze begins to pace around on the spot as soon as he sees me reappear with the saddle. “We’ve done this before, B. Just cool your heels, and it’ll be over in two minutes.”
Wren’s face changes, their smile dropping. “I don’t want to make him uncomfortable or hurt him if he doesn’t want to do this.”
I look at Blaze. “You hear that? Wren doesn’t want to force you to take them for a ride if you don’t want to. What kind of horse doesn’t want to be ridden by someone as cute as Wren?”
I swear to God, my fucking horse looks over to Wren and then stops walking.
It’s a coincidence, I know, because even though Blaze is a clever horse, he’s not a fucking linguist.
He remains still while I fasten the girth and bridle him. One last check, and he’s done. “So, youcanbe a good boy when you want to be?”
Blaze nudges me in the shoulder by way of apology. At least, I like to think it is.
I untie Blaze, keeping hold of the end of the rope, then reach for Wren’s hand. It’s cold in mine, but the skin is soft, the grip firm.
“You got gloves?” I ask.
