Page 114 of We Drank the Dawn

I wished I could’ve been there with her. The times we’d gotten a couples massage together, Sarah always felt sexy and desirable afterward. And I happily reaped the benefits.

I shook my head, calculating months. How long had it been since Sarah and I made love? I couldn’t even remember. The times we had tried post-accident were terrible. Arousal without sight was more challenging than I thought it would be and every sensation overwhelmed my exhausted nervous system. And once, I accidentally hurt her—I misjudged where she was and put my elbow right on the fleshy part of her arm.

After that, enjoying her was impossible. I got trapped in my head.

But, to stay on par with the rest of my life, I shut down instead of rising to the challenge.

At rehab, we were encouraged not to rely too heavily on our imaginations—but to experience the world with the senses we had. Because that “helped us stay in the moment” and blah, blah, blah.

But I didn’t want to experience Sarah another way—I wanted to see her.

Some blind people couldn’t imagine things at all. And part of me wished I was one from that camp, because the vision of Sarah with damp milky skin contrasted by a black lacy bra haunted my thoughts and made my muscles ache with desire. I imagined the heady way she would respond if I yanked that towel off and hauled her up between me and the wall. The way she’d arch into me when the cool drywall hit her bare back. The way she’d open for me when I pressed my tongue into her perfect mouth. The way she’d moan when I⁠—

“Peter?”

I jumped out of my thoughts.

“I’m gonna take over for you because Tag wants you out back.”

It was Rudy.

“Oh.” My shoulders fell with disappointment. I wasn’t sure what Tag wanted from me out there but I could practically guarantee I wouldn’t enjoy it half as much as grooming horses. “Why?”

“He wants you to help with the riding schedule.”

I almost choked. Me? Riding? Surely Rudy was mistaken.

I made my way down the barn corridor, my feet heavy and my mouth dry. No part of me wanted to attempt riding a horse. The anticipation had my heart beating in my throat. Navigating the ranch day after day fried my nervous system until I grew accustomed to it. I had just now settled into a daily routine; a comfortable cadence new duties would completely destroy.

I stepped out of the barn, blinking as the sunshine irritated my retinas, making my eyes water. I turned my backwards cap forward-facing, using the bill to block the sudden rays. Having led horses down to the arena multiple times before, I walked the familiar path until I heard Tag’s voice.

“Peter. Over here. On the catwalk.”

I veered left, following the fence toward the chute.

The catwalk, as the cowboys called it, was a raised platform behind the chutes where they attended the broncs, putting on the box dummies and the flank straps. Even though I hadn’t personally helped with the training, Harlan filled me in one day and explained how it all worked.

Stopping on the ground beside the platform, I looked up.

Tag grunted as he stood and made a scuffing sound with his hands, like palms brushing over denim. “You ready to ride?”

I croaked out. “What kind of ride?”

“I was thinkin’ you could help Coop with the schedule today so you aren’t trapped in that barn again all afternoon.”

“Oh, I don’t mind being trapped.” I sounded way too eager to remain in my comfort zone. “I like grooming the horses.”

“I know. And you’re doin’ a fine job of it.” He took a deep breath, his feet pounding on the ground below as he hopped down. “But”—he clapped me on the back as he walked by—“we want your help in the ring today.”

I stifled a snort.

He knew as well as I did that help was a generous term for a blind accountant running around a horse ranch. My presence was nothing but an obstacle.

“Come on.” A gate groaned as he opened it. “We already got Lady May at the post. You’re gonna saddle her up and take her for a spin.”

My feet dragged through the dust like concrete blocks. Ever since my world went dark, my mere five feet and ten inches made me feel too high off the ground sometimes. The idea of climbing up on a horse…

The day Sarah had planned a trail ride for us, I tried to tell her I was afraid, but she blew me off. “Oh, Peter. You’ll be fine, I promise.”