Page 73 of Saddle Storm

“I’ll keep you posted after next week’s session with Jenny.”

Storm catches her horse, praising her. I know it’s a female horse because I recognize her. She’s been at Blue River a while. Starr or Skye, maybe? I guess it doesn’t matter. It’s Storm’s reaction to her that does. She cares about this one. It reminds me of how Mom cared for our horses. Can’t remember if she had a favorite. They were all her friends.

Watching her now stirs something in me. The only thing I didn’t bury when I left here.

Memories. Memories of riding. Of Tucker shifting excitedly when I stepped into the barn. Least that’s what Mom would say when Tucker shuffled restlessly, ears pricking.

Makes me wonder what she’d say now.

Storm catches my eyes and something flashes in hers that makes my stomach flip. There’s a subtle unguarded shift in the way she watches me.

One I swear I hadn’t seen in over a decade.

It’s cool in the stables in the late afternoon, the air heavy with hay and leather. I move down the aisle slowly, boots louder than my everyday sneakers.

But I wore them for a reason.

I used to think staying away from this place meant I’d moved on. Built something new that’s just for me. Now I wonder if it was just avoidance. Avoiding this place. The memories. The version of me that existed before everything changed. Before the place got quiet. Before the light went out of it.

Tucker lifts his head when I reach his stall.

It stings more now somehow. Now that I want him to remember me. Maybe a selfish part that wishes he understood why I don’t ride him anymore. Maybe he does. I’m not the only one who stopped coming around after Mom died.

“Hey, Tuck,” I murmur low, almost hopeful. “Me, again.” My horse blinks, shifts his weight, unimpressed. I huff a laugh. “Cut me some slack. I just went through all this with another old friend. And let me tell you, I’ve got a lot more patience for her. Smells better too.” I run my hand over his nose and he leans into my touch.

“It’s been a long time,” I say like I’m making small talk. Or maybe I’m just pointing out what he already knows. Mom used to say horses remember everything. Starting to think people do too. Just might be better at pretending we don’t. Though this one’s pretty good at playing the Who are you? card. I roll my right shoulder back, then stretch my arm a few times, feeling for pain. It’s only awareness. A slight pull. Still, nowhere near ready for what Harvey says will be in store for me. Like I didn’t already know.

The dull ache is almost enough to reconsider.

But the urge to swing onto a saddle, grip the reins, and see if muscle memory kicks in, is stronger.

“What do you say?” I ask quietly. “Think I could saddle you right and take you out? Nothing fancy, just a walk, so don’t get any ideas. Then maybe if we both play our cards right, we could . . . try this thing again.” I chuckle, but doubt Tuck finds any of this funny.

Opening his stall, I lead him into the aisle, the routine coming back in pieces. Starting with the halter, I slide it over his muzzle, positioning the noseband and fastening the crown behind his ears. Tuck bends slightly for me, then lifts.

“See, I’ve got this.”

I reach for the pad next, bringing it over him and smoothing it flat a few times. All the while his nose following me like I’m forgetting a step.

And there’s no doubt I will—as I continue with the saddle, doing most of the prep work with my left hand and using my right to tighten and secure. My arm tightens when I pull the cinch through, and I release a sharp exhale.

Tuck shifts instantly, head turning.

“All good,” I breathe, palm flattening against his side. “I’m all good.” Another chuckle. “What do you say next time, we go bareback?”

Tuck snorts and turns back.

I walk around him to see if I’d missed anything. The stable door opens straight ahead, light spilling in along with her presence. Her eyes catch the saddled horse first, then land on mine.

“Thought I saw you come in here,” she breathes like she’s been running. But she wasn’t far when I came in.

“What took you so long?” I cock a smirk. “Not like you saw me come in here with any more restraints.”

She stalks forward like that wasn’t funny and now I know I pushed my boundaries with her the other day.

Gripping my shirt, she pins me against my steady, unfazed horse and kisses me. It’s deep, still, possessive, and hard before she releases a relieved moan and steps back.

“Storm—”