It made sense for him to hop in the saddle first since he’d be sitting in front, but then how would he help Willow up?
She waved him off. “It’s a stupid, silly pinkie toe,” she informed him. “I can still mount a horse.”
He raised his brows and shrugged. Then he removed Midnight’s lead, stored it in her smallpack, and hopped into the saddle. He immediately removed his boot from the left stirrup so Willow could use it to do the same, but he could already tell that the stirrup was too far forward for her to use it as the sole means for climbing into the pillion saddle. She’d have to put all her weight on her right foot to even attempt it, and Ash could tell by the frustration in her stare that she had realized the same thing.
Ash held out his left hand and mimed zipping his lips with his right, assuring her that he would by no means violate thePretend I’m not herepolicy unless acknowledgment of his presence was an absolute necessity.
She sighed and grabbed his hand, which gave her the leverage she needed to reach the stirrup, and then he hoisted her the rest of the way until her chest was flush against his back, her arms wrapped tight around his torso as she steadied herself in on the pillion.
His pulse quickened at her touch. There was no way Willow couldn’t feel his heart hammering away like an overeager drum solo. But if she noticed, she didn’t let on. Instead, she simply squeezed him tight and said, “Ready whenever you are.”
So Ash gripped the reins, gave Midnight a soft nudge with his heels, and pointed her in the direction of the open gate on the other end of the arena, the one that would take them wherever Willow wanted to go.
For a few minutes, that was how they rode, Ash in control of the mare with Willow hanging on from behind. Slowly, though, she loosened her grip on his waist and slid her hands behind his so they both were holding the reins. He leaned slightly to the right and felt her lean to the left.
“Can you see?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied, her cheek almost flush against his.
“Then she’s all yours,” Ash told her, letting his hands trade places with hers. “You’re in charge.”
“Yah!” Willow called, tapping her heels on Midnight’s flanks, and they sailed across the field and toward the woods.
Even though he couldn’t see her behind him, Ash imagined Willow smiling, letting go of everything he’d put her through both in their time togetherandapart.
He expected her to pull the mare left as the field gave way to trees, but instead she pulled up on the reins, slowing the horse until they came to an opening in trees where the oft-trodden trail would take them to the clearing where she found him that first day a month ago.
He didn’t ask why or if she was sure. He simply let her take the lead as Midnight slowly led them deeper into the trees, the only sound the buzzing of cicadas and the rustling of leaves as a small animal scurried by.
Finally, sunlight began to peek through the leaves until they were exactly where they’d been four weeks prior when they’d made their truce and agreed to work together on a song.
Midnight paced back and forth in question, so Ash decided to ask what both he and the mare were wondering.
“Is this just a pause or a destination?” he pondered. “Because I think Midnight wants to know.”
He felt her let out a long breath before she spoke. “I want to lie under the maple and watch the clouds.”
“Okay,” he replied. “I’ll help you down. Midnight and I can hang by the grazing tree.”
She was quiet as he dismounted first, careful to swing his leg in front of him rather than behind. Then he let her dismount mostly on her own, only grabbing her hips to help her land softly once she was close enough to the ground.
He was ready to turn in the opposite direction from the maple when Willow grabbed his wrist.
“Come with me,” she told him simply.
“Okay,” he answered again, daring to let a spark of hope ignite.
He tied off Midnight to a tree where the mare was happy to graze and then followed Willow, who seemed to be limping less with each step, to where the sun flickered through breeze-blown leaves, speckling the grass like flickering stars.
She lay down first, patting the grass besideher. Ash dropped his hat to the ground and then reclined on the warm patch of earth.
“Meditating on clouds,” Willow said softly as they both stared up at the sky. “I like what you called it when I asked if I was a weirdo for liking this.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “I like that you like doing it.” He cleared his throat. “Probably should have asked for permission to speak. You could have just been thinking out loud.”
Willow reached over and backhanded him on the shoulder. “You’rethe one who said you weren’t going to talk. I never said you couldn’t.”
“Ahh,” he mused. “But you never said I could either.”
