We walk towards it, and then I register it’s a stable—a huge one at that.
Inside, the stable is alive in a different way.
Workers — a few men and women dressed in neat uniforms- move quietly between the stalls. I spot one brushing down a glossy chestnut horse, another hauling a bucket of fresh water. They glance up as Alex and I walk in, giving small, respectful nods, but otherwise keeping to themselves.
The walls are lined with rows of spacious stalls. Polished brass nameplates glint on the doors, marking each horse with sharp, elegant letters.
The horses themselves are stunning — tall, muscled, their coats shining under the shafts of sunlight that filter through the high windows.
I stick closer to Alex without meaning to. I have never seen a horse before, so seeing how big they are surprises the hell out of me. His hand brushes lightly against my lower back, grounding me. His voice is low when he speaks.
“Come on. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
He stops in front of the last stall
“This one’s mine,” he says, resting a hand on the door.
I peek around him and blink.
The horse is… stunning.
Tall, strong, and an impossible shade of pale cream. His mane is thick, almost silvery under the light. I don’t even realize I’ve taken a step back until I feel I feel Alex’s hands gripping my waist gently.
“He’s huge,” I whisper.
He gives a faint nod. “He’s a cremello. His name is Apollo.”
“You named him after a Greek god?” I couldn’t help but ask
He scoffs, “Something like that.”
I stare at the horse, and it stares back, calm, unbothered, like it knows it doesn’t need to prove anything.
“Is he… nice?” I ask.
“Yes.”
He opens the stall and steps in without hesitation. Apollo greets him with a low snort, pressing his face into Alex’s chest like they’ve done this a hundred times. Alex strokes his neck with slow, practiced movements, then begins leading him out.
I take another step away as the horse steps into the light.
Up close, he’s even more massive. I feel small. Breakable.
“Come closer,” Alex says, glancing back at me.
“I… don’t know.”
“He won’t hurt you, Lucas.”
It’s the way he says my name. Not a command. Not a tease. Just… steady. I take a hesitant step forward.
Alex guides Apollo to a stop, then motions toward me.
“Give him your hand. Let him smell you.”
I look at my hand like it might betray me, then slowly lift it. Apollo leans in, nostrils flaring, and puffs a breath of warm air across my palm. I flinch, but don’t pull back.
Alex watches silently.
