“What’s up?” he asks me.
I raise my eyes to look at him. His expression is serious, and he’s leaning forward with his attention only on me.
“You really want to know,” I say in surprise.
“Of course I want to know,” he says. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because this—” I point from him to me. “—isn’t exactly conventional. I’m not sure what it is.”
“Me neither.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. And something has you out of sorts.”
I don’t like telling this story, but Declan cared enough to ask, and sitting here in the barn with him soothes me. I don’t want to talk about what today means, though. It’s an anniversary I would rather forget.
But, I do tell Declan how I haven’t ridden since Mom died.
“I pretty much replaced a horse with a motorcycle,” I admit. “And I’m scared that if I get back on a horse, especially with you…” That last part slips out unbidden.
“What do you mean?” he asks me.
“I’m afraid I’ll miss her so much it will ache,” I say in a stark whisper.
He reaches forward and pulls me into his arms. I can hear his strong heartbeat beating through his jacket, and I close my eyes and relish the safety of that sound. Declan is alive, and he’s here with me.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says softly. “But why did you say ‘especially with you?’ If I make things worse in any way…”
“You don’t,” I say quickly. I lift my head and stare into his eyes. “You make things more real.”
His mouth quirks up at the corners.
“Right?” I say. “So ironic, I know. But true. I’m afraid that getting on a horse with you next to me will make it impossible for me to ignore my broken heart.” My voice cracks with those last two words, and I realize that’s why I’ve avoided riding all these years—I don’t want to feel how broken I’ve become.
“Or maybe,” he says quietly. “Maybe having someone with you will help your heart to heal.”
I clench my teeth.
But Declan seems to have made up his mind. He stands up and tugs me up with him. “Come on. We’re going to ride some horses.”
* * *
Thirty minutes later, I slip my foot in a stirrup for the first time since I was a teenager.
“Do you need a leg up?” Declan asks me from the ground.
“Nope. It’s like riding a bicycle.” I swing my leg over Midnight’s back and grin down at Declan. “Or maybe it’s like a different kind of riding.”
He grins back at me. “I like your dirty mind.”
I look out at the pasture from where I’m sitting on Midnight’s back. And I can’t help smiling.
God, I’ve missed this view. How many times Mom and I rode together. How many times we chatted and laughed and reconnected after a long day at school for me or work for her.
“How does it feel?” Declan’s low voice from below startles me.
I come out of my reverie and look down at him with a smile. “This was our church,” I say simply. “It feels good to be back.”
He pats my leg. “Good.”
I didn’t need any help getting onto my horse, but perhaps I should have asked Declan if he did.
