The wind in my face.
The sun on my back.
The power of the horse’s breath, the thrill in my chest, the fire in my veins.
I open my mouth and scream – not fear this time, only joy.Pure, electric, unfiltered joy.It bursts out of me before I can think.
Luke whoops beside me, his voice raw and exhilarated.Skip gallops at full throttle, muscles coiled and flying, mane whipping behind him.
I glance over.
Luke’s face is lit with something fierce and unguarded and entirely him.Wild, full-bodied happiness.
It hits me like a punch and a hug at the same time.
This is how he looks when he’s not holding anything back.
Free.Fast.Untouchable.
He looks at me – and he smiles.
Not the small, smug curve of his lips I’m used to.A huge, real smile.The kind that makes me want to forget I ever lived anywhere else.
We ride for what feels like hours – or maybe just a few stolen seconds – our horses running as one, our laughter tangled in the wind.
A terrifying thought takes root in my head: I don’t want the moment to end.
One second, we’re under an open sky, soft wind curling through the dry grass, Banjo’s gait rhythmic and easy beneath me.The next, the light shifts.Greys and purples churn above the tree line.The air goes still in that eerie way that sayssomething’s coming.
Luke notices it too.He slows Skip and glances up, frowning.‘The forecast didn’t mention clouds.’
‘Clouds are a good thing though, right?’
Luke nods but doesn’t seem convinced.‘Only if they carry rain with them.’
‘What else could they carry?’
He shrugs.‘We’ve had plenty of lightning and thunder, but no rain.’
‘Should we turn back?’
‘Not yet.We’ve got time.’He doesn’t seem worried.
But I am.
Not about the weather.
About the weight I’ve been carrying on my shoulders.
‘I should’ve told you,’ I confess.‘About the pregnancy.It was selfish not to.’
He doesn’t move.
‘I knew it would hurt you.I knew that.And I did it anyway.
I just …’ My throat tightens.I take a shaky breath, my voice breaking a little.‘After my parents vanished into their own lives, I had to raise Issy.Doctors, lunches, homework, puberty.I did all of it for her.’I blink hard and my voice catches.‘I told myself I’d never have kids.That I’d already done it.And it broke me.I don’t want to do it again.’I take a deep breath.‘So, yeah, I should have told you, but I don’t regret what I did, and I would do it again,’ I say, and this time it’s not for him – it’s for that terrified teenage version of myself who never got to fall apart.
Luke frowns at me, his eyes unfocused as if lost in thought.I fight the urge to flee and wait until his features relax and he nods.‘It’s okay.You did what you had to do.’
