She didn’t sound too worried about me getting lost a few minutes earlier, but I don’t call her out on her unsubtle attempt at matchmaking. I was guilty of the same thing when Winter and Hunter were trying to avoid admitting what the rest of us had seen all along—they were meant for each other.
Jared and I aren’t them, though, and as he and Luke bicker over what horse is best for me to ride, I remind myself of that fact.
“Bossy boys,” Mia murmurs next to me, and I hear the amusement in her voice.
“No kidding. Is your husband this bossy?”
“I think it’s a toss-up between me and Declan as to who likes to be in charge more,” she says with a laugh.
She reaches onto the shelf filled with helmets. “Let’s get the right fit.”
A short while later, after we wave good-bye to Mia and the Wilds, Duchess and I follow Jared on his horse, a gorgeous chestnut gelding named Boo, across the gravel area outside the barn and across the prairie grass to the forested meadow beyond.
We ride at a slow gait and in silence for a while as I adjust to being on a horse again for the first time since I took riding lessons at church camp in Louisiana for a few summers. When we reach the edge of the forest, the path narrows.
“We’ll have to go single file for a short while to get to the prairie. Do you want me to go ahead?” Jared asks me, breaking the quiet stillness.
“Sure.”
Duchess and I follow him and Boo along the path covered with pine needles. The sun is peeking through the tall trees, and I inhale, breathing in the incredible scent of pine trees and mountain air.
The silence is therapeutic. I can actually hear the light breeze blowing through the trees around us, along with birds chirping and leaves rustling. The lack of man-made sounds—no voices or vehicles, or construction—relaxes me.
Growing up, my home life was never peaceful. The yelling, the glasses breaking, the slamming doors—all of it was far too frequent. The police were called more than once, but my mom always covered for the terror that was my stepfather. Nights were the worst, which explains my fear of the dark, but Aaron could be drunk at any time of day. He’d come home once the bar of his choosing cut him off, and I’d hide in my bedroom with my stomach in knots as I heard him stomp around. He’d find my mother, and the shouting started soon after.
Our home only got quiet when my stepfather finally passed out, and Mama and I would whisper so we wouldn’t wake him.
Loud or quiet, my home life was never stress-free.
I always knew I carried trauma from my childhood, but I didn’t realize that I truly didn’t know what it felt like not to feel constantly anxious. Even at a lower level as an adult, I’ve always felt on edge like the next moment something in my world may explode.
Until now.
“I’m already glad I came here,” I say out loud.
As we come out of the thicker forest area and into the prairie, the path widens, and Jared slows down so we can ride alongside each other.
“Even though you’ve got a surprise roommate?” he asks me.
“Even so.” I take a deep breath. “Having a friend from home here isn’t so bad.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I try to steal a glance over at him, but he’s already looking at me.
By the heat that fills my face, I know I’m furiously blushing.
My life is not a fairytale, and it’s certainly not a “boy meets girl as kids and they end up together forever” kind of story. Jared’s phone exploding the entire time we were at the bar last night cleared that temptation right out of my brain.
I just need to make sure I don’t forget my brain whenever I’m alone with him. Especially in bed, because every night we go to sleep in the same room is harder and harder. I just need to keep in mind how different we are in terms of what we’re wanting.
I want a relationship.
Jared doesn’t.
Sometimes, though, like right now with the sweet-smelling Montana air and the warm sunshine hitting my face as I stare at Jared, it’s easy to forget we want different things.
“Ash…” He says my name quietly but in a way that goes straight to my core.
