After changinginto the sweats and hoodie, Enya gritted her teeth against the ache in her ankle as she followed Rowan out of the house. A gravel drive stretched before them, leading down towards the barnyard. The distance seemed immense. Each step sent fresh jolts of pain up her leg as the gravel shifted treacherously under her boots. She focused on putting one foot in front of the other, breathing through the pain, her gaze fixed on the wide sliding door of the metal barn.
Almost there.
Almost there.
“Shit, Rowan cursed softly. “I’m sorry, I’m an ass. Do you want me to grab one of the ATVs and drive you down?”
“No, it’s fine. I can sit while I’m cleaning the tack, right?” If he said no, she just might cry. But she’d spilled enough tears over the last three months. She didn’t want to cry anymore. She was so over pain, nightmares, sorrow, and everything that went with them.
I just want to be me again.
Maybe the first step to that was cleaning tack in a hero’s barn.
“Yeah, you can sit.” Rowan slowed his steps. “Despite what the guys might tell you, I’m not an asshole all the time.”
“Then I’m goo—” A loud whinny echoed up the yard. She’d know that sound anywhere. “Rain.”
“He’s fine.” Rowan was quick to reassure her. “Dawsyn put him in the round pen a while ago. You want to say hi before you get to work?”
They reached the side door of the barn, a smaller entrance beside the main slider. Rowan opened it and ushered her in ahead of him. “Round pen is straight through here if you do, so it won’t take but a minute. It might do you both good to start with hello.”
“Okay.” A hello couldn’t hurt, right? Rain deserved that much.
What was the point of coming here if I don’t at least try to see if we’re too broken?
The smell hit her like a physical embrace. She loved the mix of rich alfalfa hay, sweet grain, leather, horse sweat, manure, and liniment. The deep, comforting, living scent of a working barn had always meant home to her. Tears pricked hotly at her eyes, and she blinked them back, inhaling deeply, letting the familiar smells anchor her in the present moment.
This is real.
This is now.
The barn was long and wide, lined on both sides with spacious stalls fronted by heavy steel bars. Industrial fans hummed softly overhead, circulating the air. A few curious heads poppedover stall doors as she limped down the central aisle. A sleek bay, a dappled grey, a massive chestnut with intelligent eyes. They watched them pass, ears flickering, nostrils flaring as they sampled her unfamiliar scent mixed with Rowan’s. Some of them nickered a greeting to Rowan, but none of them were who she was searching for.
“Go ahead,” Rowan urged. “I’ll be right here. Yell if you need me.”
She was grateful there wasn’t going to be a witness to what was to come. She walked through the door on the opposite side of the barn and into the round pen. Her breath caught in her throat. “Rain.”
His head shot up at the sound of her voice. Guilt slammed into her as he nickered in response. He looked… diminished. His normally gleaming coat was dull, lacking its usual sheen. His powerful neck seemed thinner, and the muscles less defined. His expression was weary, almost vacant. The vibrant fire that had always defined him, the fierce intelligence that made him, him, seemed banked…smothered… almost like he was a reflection of her. “Rain,” her voice cracked.
This is my fault.
I did this to him.
The guilt, a constant, gnawing companion, surged up, thick and choking because he probably thought that she’d abandoned him. First in El Paso, then in her father’s barn. She’d let her own darkness swallow his light. Her father’s harsh words echoed in her mind:“You’re killing him.”
A sob threatened to break free, but she choked it down, forcing her trembling legs to carry her the last few yards to him. Shereached for his nose but stopped just short of touching it. “Hey, boy,” she managed, her voice thick with emotions she had no words for. “Hey, Rain.”
He watched her for another long moment, his breath puffing softly in the cool air. Then, slowly, deliberately, he took another step closer. He stretched his neck and his velvety muzzle reached towards her. The soft warmth of his nose brushed against the knuckles of her hand, and the contact was electric. It was a jolt of pure, grounding reality. Rain in his purest form. He was solid, warm, alive, here, and he still wanted to know her.
Tears spilled over, hot and unchecked, trailing tracks down her cheeks. This time, she didn’t try to stop them. She leaned her forehead against Rain’s forehead and closed her eyes. His breath warmed her skin, his nickers warmed her heart, and finally the phantom of his screams in her head faded, replaced by the soft snuffle he made as he nudged her chest gently, insistently.“Still mine. Still my boy.”She slid her hand up, burying her fingers in the thick, coarse hair of his forelock, the familiar texture a balm to her battered soul. “I’m sorry I got lost, baby.” He lowered his head further, accepting her touch, his warm breath sighing out against her arm. Their reunion had the quiet rawness of two broken creatures finding each other in the wreckage of what had happened. Enya decided that drawing comfort simply from each other’s presence, from their touch, and from the unspoken understanding that they were still connected mattered more than the damage that had been wrought. “We’ll fix this, Rain,” she promised. “We’ll fix us, ’kay? Maybe that’s why we’re here in this place. Where I was born doesn’t feel like home anymore, but maybe where you were born will.”
She didn’t know how long she stood there, with her fingers tangled in Rain’s forelock, her tears soaking into his hair. Timeblurred into the rhythm of Rain’s breathing, the soft rustle of shavings as he shifted his weight, the distant hum of machinery. A fragile peace settled over her, thin as morning mist, but enough for her to see a light at the end of what had been a very long, dark road.
The scrape of a boot heel on concrete shattered the bubble around her and Rain. Her head snapped up, heart leaping into her throat, until she saw Rowan leaning against the doorframe of the barn.
He pushed off the doorframe and walked towards them, his steps unhurried, and he stopped a respectful distance away. His gaze flickered from her tear-streaked face to her hand buried in Rain’s forelock, and smiled.
“The first step is always the hardest,” he said, his voice low and even. “Why don’t you bring him over to the feed bucket and see if he’ll have some chow today, too?” He took the final step, closing the small distance between them. He didn’t touch her, but his presence was overwhelmingly solid and unyielding. He held out a bucket. “Go hang that on the holder, and feed your boy.”
