Her gaze flicked to mine. “You can’t promise that.”
“I can promise I won’t let you fall.”
She bit down on her lower lip while I brought out a gentle mare. For Lucas, I picked a gelding that followed people like a dog and didn’t spook at anything.
Lucas stared up at the horse. “He’s huge.”
“He’s not,” I said. “You’re just small.”
Owen laughed. Lucas flipped him off without thinking, then glanced at Marisol like he’d done something wrong.
She lifted a hand to hide her smile.
I hoisted Lucas into the saddle and adjusted his stirrups. “Hands low. Heels down. You listen to Owen.”
Lucas nodded, serious now.
Then I turned to Marisol. She stood next to the mare, her arms crossed, looking like she wanted to run.
I stepped close enough that she could hear me without anyone else catching it. “You trust me.”
Her breath caught. Not because I’d said it like a question. Because I’d said it like it was already true.
She swallowed. “I trust you.”
“Then put your foot in the stirrup.”
Her hands shook a little as she obeyed.
I steadied her at the waist, lifted her with no effort at all, and settled her into the saddle. For a second, my hands stayed at her hips longer than they needed to. Her body went still. The air between us tightened.
I eased away before I did something stupid. “Hold the horn if you need to.”
She nodded, chin lifted like she was determined not to be scared.
Lucas watched us with narrowed eyes. “Are we going or what?”
I almost smiled.
We rode out slow, the horses walking along the fence line, the morning light turning the pasture gold. Lucas relaxed fast, his posture loosening as the horse carried him like it was nothing. He even laughed when Owen made a dumb joke. Marisol blinked hard and looked away, wiping at her cheek like she’d gotten dust in her eye.
I rode slightly ahead, letting them have space, but never far enough that I couldn’t reach them in seconds. That was the trick. Protect without smothering. Lead without controlling.
Marisol watched the land the way someone watched a movie they didn’t believe was real. Her shoulders lowered little by little. She took a deeper breath.
At one point, she called out, “Caleb.”
I turned my horse toward her. “Yeah?”
Her eyes were bright. “I didn’t know it could be this quiet.”
“It’s quiet,” I agreed, “until it isn’t.”
She let out a soft laugh. “Of course you’d say that.”
“I’m not wrong.”
“No,” she admitted. “You’re not.”
