Now they just exist.
Her jacket hangs by the door next to mine. Her books are stacked on the side table. Her toothbrush sits in the holder in the bathroom. Evidence of her everywhere, woven into the fabric of this place so completely I can't remember what it looked like without her.
She leans against the counter, staring out the window at the dark, lost in thought.
"You good?" I ask.
She turns, smiles. "Yeah. Just thinking."
"About?"
"How easy this is."
I cross to her, drop a kiss on her temple, and reach for my coffee. We stand there together in comfortable silence, watching the sun start to break over the mountains.
She's right. It is easy. Easier than it should be after five years apart. Easier than I let myself hope it could be.
"Ready?" I ask after a while.
"Yeah. Let's go."
At the barn, we fall into the rhythm we've built over the past six weeks.
I handle feed while she checks water buckets. She grabs the training schedule off the board—her handwriting mapping out the week, my notes scribbled in the margins about which horses need extra attention. We move around each other without talking, no wasted motion, no need to coordinate.
Three new boarders since Fall Classic. Two more inquiries came in this week.
The business is working.
Red Fern's horses are still here, thriving in the far paddock. Renee Whitman's two are in their usual stalls. The new gelding from a family in town occupies the stall near the tack room—young, green, but willing. Two mares from a competitor who saw Addie's win are settling in nicely.
We're starting to build a waiting list.
The financial pressure that was crushing Mae when Hazel first came back has eased. Not gone—it never really goes away on a ranch—but manageable. Sustainable.
I lean against the fence, watching Hazel work with the new gelding in the round pen. The horse is nervous, flighty, not trusting the bit yet. But she's patient. Knows when to push and when to ease off.
After a few minutes, I call out, "Try softening your inside hand."
She adjusts without hesitation. The horse responds immediately, dropping his head, relaxing into the circle.
She grins at me across the pen. "Show off."
"That's why you keep me around."
"One of many reasons."
The easy affection between us still catches me off-guard sometimes. How simple this is. How she can tease me without second-guessing herself. How I can touch her without worrying she'll pull away.
Mae's truck pulls up around eight. She climbs out carrying a bakery bag and thermos, because apparently the coffee we make isn't good enough.
"Morning," she calls, heading into the barn.
We find her in the main aisle, spreading pastries on a hay bale like she's setting a table.
"You two look tired," she says, eyeing us both with that knowing look.
"Early start," I say.
