Clyde was my rock. The one friend, aside from Dale and Jed, who knows everything about me. The good, the bad, the ugly. Especially the ugly.
“I’m sorry. It’s always so hard when you lose a soulmate.”
A soul mate.
Nobody has ever said that to me. Nobody has ever gotten it, because that’s what he was. Animal people get it, but that’s noteverybody. Clyde meant the world to me. Hewasmy soulmate. Some friends just can’t be replaced, no matter what you do.
He wasmine. In a world that has become so intangible, Clyde was the one sure thing. I loved him as much as he loved me. Memories of us riding for miles flash through my mind: the one place where I felt truly free.
I fucking love this girl.Wait, that’s getting a little crazy, but fuck me.
My voice is croaky and feels thick when I say, “It is. I loved him, his loss can’t be compared to anything else in my life.” I’m also not afraid to show emotion. In fact, my exes have alwayssaid I’mtooemotional. I’m happy-go-lucky, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not one of those macho guys, either. People are often surprised by that revelation, but I stopped being a people pleaser a long time ago.
“I know what you mean. My first loss was my horse, Pony. I know, I know, but I named her when I was six,” she laughs, but there’s also a tinge of sadness there, too. “She was such a good girl. I cried for a week nonstop. I was fifteen when she passed, and I’d never suffered heartbreak like that. She just got me, ya know?”
I nod. “I know.”
“Wow, that was a trip down memory lane.”
“Shit, this got dark pretty quick.” I shift in my chair and add, “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”
In my periphery, she turns toward me. “You didn’t. We have to talk about the ones we loved because otherwise it’s like they never existed,” she says, and she’s right. I still talk to Clyde all these years later when I’m at the stables, even though it’s empty now and I’ve never had the guts to get more horses. Jesus, I’m a prick.
In all fairness, the last few years of my life have been crazy and I’m barely ever home, but the idea of having not just one, but a bunch of horses makes my chest feel tight.
Shit.Maybe that’s a possibility when I get back to Nashville.IfI ever go home. Anxiety wells inside me when I think about returning to the place I once called home. It doesn’t feel like that now.
Quiet falls around us, and before too long, we’re at the entrance to a long driveway, the wooden plaque reads: Cedar Hollow. The sign is worn and a little wonky, hanging off the mailbox precariously. I’ll have to fix that for her. Not that she isn’t capable of doing it herself, of course, but I don’t want it to fall off.
“Just keep going down a quarter mile, you’ll see the homestead,” she says.
I do as she says. I already know this place is gonna be magical because she lives here.
A feeling of warmth washes over me, I can’t explain it. I see the little red cottage up ahead and I smile to myself. It’s very Bailey—rustic but beautiful. There’s a porch with a swing, hanging plants, and a little table with two chairs on the other side of the door. I can imagine Bailey sitting out here with her morning coffee, admiring her property.
I bring the truck to a stop and kill the engine. “I’ll arrange an Uber?—”
“Would you like to come to the stables?” she asks.
My heart palpitates hard in my chest. Immediately, my palms begin to sweat. “Uh?—”
“I’m sorry, it’s late,” she says. “And you probably want to get back…”
“No, it’s not that.” I squeeze my cell in my hand and turn to face her. “This is gonna sound stupid, so don’t laugh.”
She gives me her most serious face. “I’m listening.”
I puff out air from my cheeks. “I haven’t been around horses very much since Clyde.” I take a breath and Bailey doesn’t rush to fill the silence with words. “It’s silly, but when I lost him a year ago, I was goin’ through some shit, and that didn’t help matters.”
“He meant a lot to you.”
I can’t speak. Yes, yes, he did, and I haven’t spoken about him at all. I nod.
“But you know what they say?” she says, sounding a little more upbeat. “The only way to get back on the horse is to get back into the saddle. Well, metaphorically, they probably won’t appreciate us going for a midnight gallop.”
I chuckle. “How can I possibly refuse?”
Concern edges over her face. “You’re sure? I promise they don’t bite. Well, Rebel, maybe, but just think of it as a love tap.”
