‘Mum was pissed when she arrived at the hospital.’Luke grins.‘So, there you go.Now you’re relaxed.Banjo’s relaxed.Everyone’s happy.’
I blink and realise he’s right.My shoulders aren’t locked.My grip has softened.I’m breathing again.And Banjo’s walking, solid beneath me, ears twitching, calm as can be.
Luke hands me the reins.‘You’ve got this.’
I give him a look.‘You say that as if you’re not seconds away from watching me eat dirt.’
He winks.‘I believe in you.’
‘Tell my enemies I died brave and spiteful.’
He chuckles.‘Just get on with it.’
We carry on at a walk – slow, steady, full of awkward thigh muscles and trust issues.Banjo’s hooves fall into a relaxed rhythm.Yet every creak of the saddle still makes me wince.Every sway feels as if I might topple over the edge.
Luke keeps pace beside me on Skip, cool as ever, one hand resting casually on the reins like he’s taking his car out for a Sunday cruise instead of sitting on half a ton of raw horse energy.
‘Loosen your grip,’ he calls.‘You’re holding the reins too tight.Ease into your seat.Let your hips move with Banjo.’
I start singing about how my hips don’t lie, and Luke shakes his head as if I’m not taking this seriously.
But I do it – I try.And slowly, Banjo and I start syncing up – ish.
Luke clicks his tongue, and we move to a trot.
Immediately, my spine tries to exit my body.
‘Oh god,’ I groan, bouncing in the saddle.
Luke laughs.‘Use your thighs to hold steady.Don’t hold on to the saddle.’
I try to adjust.It’s awkward.It’s bumpy.My butt might never forgive me.But after a few painful strides I find a rhythm.My legs remember how to work.My brain stops screaming quite so loudly.
We ride for a while – me trotting ahead, Luke trailing slightly behind, calling out tips and praise and the occasional sarcastic jab.Skip’s itching to move faster, his hooves tapping on the ground.Luke keeps him in check with minimal effort, all smooth lines and subtle pressure.It’s annoyingly hot.
‘You’re doing better than I expected,’ he says eventually.
I glance at him.‘That sounds dangerously close to a compliment.’
He shrugs.Then, right as I’m starting to believe that maybe I can do this, that I might not break my neck falling off a horse, Luke says, ‘That’s enough,’ and he slaps Banjo on the rear.
The effect is instant.
Banjo surges forward, clearly done waiting all day for permission to absolutely ruin me.My body jolts.My hands scramble for control.
I scream, ‘LUKE!’as the world blurs and I cling to the reins.
‘Relax!’he shouts back, laughing as Skip bursts into motion beside me.‘Let him run – don’t fight it!’
‘EASY FOR YOU TO SAY!’
Banjo’s hooves thunder against the ground, each stride a full- body event.The wind blasts my face, yanking tears from the corners of my eyes.My t-shirt flaps behind me like a cape.My bones are vibrating.
Then – somewhere between blind panic and complete surrender – something cracks.
I stop gripping the reins as if death’s coming for me.I stop trying to control the animal beneath me.I let go.Not of the reins – of the fear.
And then, I feel it.
