Our vows were notarized by a Beyoncé with a five-o’clock shadow.And our only memento is a plastic envelope stuffed with our certificate and matching cheap-o gold-plated bands that Summer refuses to wear.
I need to fix that.All of it.Summer and I need another ceremony, something we can actually remember and enjoy with the family.They’d like that, too, I know, since my family isn’t sure how to acknowledge our marriage any more than Summer and I do.
I guess this is why human beings mark major occasions with public celebrations.Having photos and shared memories must help everyone remember who’s who, what’s what, and why any of it happened in the first place.
Everyone’s been extremely nice, but it’s been an adjustment for them to see Summer and me as a couple after all these years—amarriedcouple, no less.We left Sweetbriar as friends and a few days later we came home as husband and wife.
It’s been an adjustment for Summer and me, too.We love each other—there’s no doubt about that.But a lot of unanswered questions remain.
Are we living together?Not really, since our clothes aren’t in the same house.
How long will the trial last?No idea, so let’s just play it by ear.
Will Summer take my last name?Sure, someday.Why not?
But that’s just logistics, I remind myself.Not any kind of fundamental truth.The truth is that Summer and I love being together.We’re opening up to one another and getting to know each other inside and out, from top to bottom, and it’s all a brand-new experience.
I get hard just thinking about Summer.Her smile and laugh.The way her silky skin feels against mine.How she’s blossomed in the shelter of my love for her.
“That girl needs a real fucking ring!”I shout into the cold air.“We both do!”I know she doesn’t want a rock, but at the very least she deserves something a bit more long-lasting than a twelve-karat electroplated gumball machine Beyoncé special.
It’s weird, but without either of us wearing rings, it feels like we’re hanging out in the waiting room of married life, somewhere between dating and mated for life.We’re in fucking limbo, and I hate it.
No more.We need to move past the trial and claim our marriage.We need to live like a married couple.
And we need to start today.
I go ahead past my driveway and head to the stables, where I know Summer will be finishing up her day.I’m about ready to turn off my engine and engage the kickstand when something catches my attention.
Perhaps it’s the sound of the horse hooves coming my way.Perhaps it’s the spray of snow and a flash of reflected light.But my attention moves to the east meadow, where three horses are pounding toward the stables.They seem to be going unusually fast, and the horses’ legs are churning like they’re in a race to the death.
A stab of fear shoots through me.
I stare.Focus on the lead horse.A huge, black stallion I’m not familiar with.And a rider I would know anywhere.
It all happens fast.Eerily fast and in slow motion at the same time, as if the laws of physics are bending right in front of me.
I watch in horror as a coyote leaps out from a stand of trees, shooting perilously close to the stallion’s front legs.Even from this distance, I can see the terror in the white of the stallion’s eyeballs.It rears up violently, loses its footing, and sends Summer flying.And then it slams down hard on its side, pinning Summer underneath it.
I watch her head smack against the ground.It bounces.Hits again.Like a rag doll.She doesn’t fight against it, and a sickening lump drops into my gut.
I put my motorcycle into gear and race toward her, watching the stallion roll over her, dumping her off his back.The horse stands, shakes the moment off, and runs west across the meadow, reins and stirrups flying loose.
Summer hasn’t moved.I can’t get air in my lungs.I’m not getting there fast enough, and I gun it.
I reach Summer just as Special K and Joe do.I throw down my bike and race to her side, sliding on my knees to peer over her.Special K and Joe fly off their horses and rush to my side.
“Don’t move her.Don’t touch her.”Special K is calm as a cucumber.“Her neck could be broken.”
Her eyes are closed.She’s not moving.My hands shake as I grab my phone and call in a favor—I know the trauma chopper pilot.I tell him I need him in five minutes.I hope it won’t be too late.
I use my body to shelter her, careful not to jar her.I can’t tell if she’s breathing.She’s unconscious.I kiss her cheek and whisper in her ear.
“Come back to me, Summer.Please, baby, you have to stay.”
CHAPTER 40
Summer
