Page 113 of Whispered Promises

I stiffen under her touch, and she notices. Her body tenses up too. I hate that I’m making her feel like this.

“Left buttcheek?” I force out, feeling my voice crack a little, but it works as we both relax again.

Her head shakes, and a sweet smile warms her face.

“Am I even close?”

Her lips purse for a second, then her bottom lip rolls under her teeth. She nibbles, fucking nibbles it. I could combust right now in front of her, and she probably wouldn’t even realise why.

“She’s on her hands and knees. He…he comes up behind her. Then he, um…he licks up her thigh,” she whispers, eyes darting to look anywhere but at me. “I’ve already read the scene, but I got the audiobook too.”

“What happens next?” I lean in, invested. Whether it’s about the story or hearing Rosy talking about it…fuck, it might be both.

A loud meow cuts through my fogged thoughts. We both clear our throats at the same time, realising we’d been straddling the metaphorical boundary, teetering. Crossing it would change things completely. It would risk too much.

Or it could be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

“Hey, Daisy girl.” Rosy strokes the tabby cat's back.

If forced under torture, I might admit out loud that there’s a part of me that’s frustrated at the interruption. But it would take something drastic, like limb removal or starvation. There’s no way I should be feeling anything, but my body’s gravitating towards her, desperate to get closer. However, my heart is sprinting in the opposite direction, unable to cope with the idea of being torn to shreds again. Because when people promise forever, they don’t really mean it. They’re promising “yes to right now” until they find someone better.

“We just need to move the boundary to another section for them,” Rosy instructs, pointing to the temporary fencing within the horse’s field. “They’re rotated to different areas throughout the year, so the grass has a chance to grow. It would be easier if we had another field, but as there’s only three ponies in here, we’re able to section it and still let them have enough space.”

I nod, watching as the breeze brushes the loose strands coming from her braid across her face. Involuntarily, my hand rises to push it back, but she does it before I can slip up.

“Okay, sounds good. Lead the way, boss.”

Picking up a roll of fencing tape, she hops the fence, the move obviously familiar and practised. It also gives me a perfect view of her arse as she lands. It both jiggles and flexes in her jeans.

She strides away, leaving me a little hot in my sweatshirt.

She turns back to me, hands on her hips. “You coming?”

I flash a smile, then take a running leap, vaulting over the fence. As I jog over, she cups her mouth as she snorts. I love that I caused that sound.

“So enthusiastic. Do you not get tired?” She spins, and we walk side-by-side over to the first area of fencing to work on.

“Nope, I like moving,” I tell her, pulling up the plastic post and pushing it into the ground where she points.

“But…is it all you? I’m not trying to indicate you’re not genuine,” she rushes, “I mean, is the high energy part always you? Or do you use it as a mask when you’re around others? Because you don’t need to do it around me.”

I stop to think, and the fence tape linking us goes taut, forcing her to stumble backwards.

“Sorry.” I walk to catch up. “Your question threw me. No one’s asked me that before.”

“I didn’t mean to sound rude, or to tell you how to be. I was just…”

“Honeybee, don’t. You didn’t piss me off or anything. I just meant that I’ve not thought about it before. I think…humour’s easy. If people are laughing, then they aren’t trying to leave. People love to laugh and be happy, so then they’ll stay. And I need people to stay… Fuck, that all sounds stupid.” I laugh, but it feels humourless.

It’s what I need, though. I'm always surrounded by people; rarely do I let myself be alone. I’m startled by the realisation that I’m still being smothered by loneliness, because when I’m with Rosy, that feeling finally ebbs, and I feel lighter than I have in years.

Perhaps even before Becka left me.

“I don’t think it’s stupid. It’s how you feel and what you need to feel safe.” She stops winding the tape around the post I’d pushed into the ground.

Our eyes meet, and I swallow back the painful wave of emotion crawling up my throat. A part of me wants to confess and let Rosy really see me. “I don’t know who I am sometimes. I don’t always feel like a person, like I’m here but…not. People help, at least for a while.”

She inhales deeply, holding it before she lets the breath out slowly. Her shoulder brushes against mine as we walk to the next post. “I don’t think we’re supposed to know who we are. As much as I hate that we don’t stay the same, that we’re ever changing, I think that’s what life’s about. Learning, growing, evolving.”