“What about Roxy?”
“Sounds like a stripper. You’re really bad at this.”
“I haven’t heard any better ideas.”
She purses her lips and rolls her head from side to side. “What about… Sadie?”
My stubborn pride compels me to think up a reason to reject the suggestion, but it’s arguably a good name. “Sadie. I like it.”
I likeher.She probably could’ve suggested something just as ludicrous as Sprinkle Butter, and I would’ve engraved a name plate for the stall right then and there.
She smiles. “Sadie, it is. As long as she approves.”
I rest my hand between us on the console, secretly hoping she’ll take it. She doesn’t disappoint.
A few minutes later, Angie’s hand goes slack, and I glance over to see her fast asleep in the passenger seat with her head resting against the window again. I stop at a red light and reach over, shifting her position until her head is resting on my shoulder instead. Maybe someday she’ll lean into me on instinct.
It’s well past dinner time when we make it to the sanctuary just east of the main ranch gate. The new stables have been up and running for the better part of three months. Phoenix recently moved in, along with our oldest resident, Misty. She’s a calming presence, and I think Sadie will do well in her company. Phoenix is still a bit wild at times, but he’s settling in.
When I put the truck in park, I turn my head and inhale one more hit of Angie’s scent.
She blinks her brown eyes open and lifts her head. “Shit, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”
I chuckle. “You can fall asleep on me anytime, Angel.”
Every day for the rest of forever, if I have it my way.
Sadie’s surprisingly subdued when Angelina opens the door and lowers the ramp. Angie guides her inside the stable with ease, and I follow on their heels, stopping short of the stall next door to Misty’s. I prepped the space earlier today, so it’s ready for its new resident.
Angie leads her inside and closes the door behind them. She spends the next thirty minutes talking to Sadie and easing her into her new home. I drape my arms over the side of the door and watch their interactions closely. Angie has an ease about her—she was born for this.
“You’re not alone anymore,” she says, gently brushing her. “I wish I knew your name. We need something to call you. What do you think of Sadie?”
Sadie nickers in response; it’s probably as close to an approval as we’re gonna get.
“I like it, too,” Angie murmurs, running her palm along Sadie’s forelock.
Sadie’s really taken with Angie, and I can’t fault her for that. She had that same effect on me five years ago. It’s the kind of magnetism you just can’t shake, no matter how hard you try. Once she pulls you in, there’s no coming back from it.
I cut through the stables, headed straight for the pasture to check on Misty and Phoenix. The former is grazing contentedly in the field while Phoenix runs circles around her, goading her into playing with him. She’s completely unbothered by the entire spectacle.
It reminds me of simpler times when my siblings and I were younger. We’d run circles around the ranch, hiding from our parents and wreaking havoc on the ranch hands. They were just as much a part of the family as the rest of us. That was then, before we knew what it felt like to lose the people you love. Before we learned about the harsh realities life could dole out.
Nobody warns you what it’ll be like to grow out of your childhood. It happens when you’re not looking. One minute you’re racing bareback through the trails with your siblings, oblivious to the world around you, and the next you’re thirty-seven years old, rescuing horses from the worst situations humanity has to offer, facing hardships you were once ignorant of, and falling head over boots for a woman who wasn’t supposed to belong to you.
Sometime later, Angie materializes at my side. She props her foot on the fence and sighs.
“She settling in okay?” I ask.
“She’s good. Better than I expected.”
I nod. “Thanks for coming today. I don’t think I could’ve gotten her here without your help.”
“Anytime.” She separates her hair into three strands and braids them together. “Shit. I don’t have a hair tie.”
I pull one off my wrist and hand it to her. “Here. I always keep a spare just in case.”
“Thanks.” She smiles, tying off the end of her braid.
