Page 158 of Nothing Special X: The Last Stand

Fox snapped his fingers. “Syn.”

Syn blinked. “Huh, what?”

“Focus,” Fox barked.

Furi laughed louder, and Syn glanced in his direction again.

Fox threw both hands up. “Jesus. I am one second away from duct-taping your face to the saddle horn.”

Syn forced his attention back to the reins. “I’m listening.”

“You are not.”

“I heard something about heels.”

Fox stared at him.

“Heels down,” Syn blurted.

“You retained two words in thirty-five minutes,” Fox muttered.

Syn adjusted his boots in the stirrups, trying to ignore the unfamiliar stretch in his thighs, and the kink in his lower back from the awkward posture. Nimbus shifted beneath him, and Syn overcorrected his balance, almost slipping off the right side.

Fox stepped closer. “Sit heavy, but don’t sit dead. Let your hips move with him. Stop clamping your knees.”

“I’m trying to hold on.”

“I already told you, you hold on with balance, not panic.”

Syn exhaled through his nose and loosened his legs. Nimbus took two slow steps forward.

“There,” Fox said. “Better.”

Syn settled a little more, keeping his eyes forward.

Mostly.

Furi laughed again.

“If you dare look at him, I’m putting blinders on you.”

“You’re a very understanding teacher,” Syn grumbled.

“I know.”

Fox walked alongside Nimbus as Syn guided him around the corral.

It took a few minutes, but the lesson moved into a regular rhythm. Reins. Pressure. Release. Weight. Breathe. Don’t lean like an idiot. Don’t stare at the horse’s head. Look where I want him to go. Trust the animal but also guide him.

It was calming.

Fox must’ve noticed his composure, because after another quiet lap, he said, “Last night go okay?”

Syn kept his gaze on the far rail. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t hear the headboard banging against the wall.”

Syn sucked his teeth. “We slept, asshole.”