a horse, the way the wind felt in my hair, the sun on my skin. The rhythm of hoofs pounding in my ears. It’s a good memory. I felt free.
I nibble my bottom lip. “Maybe.”
Caden scrubs a hand over his jaw. “Can’t hurt, right? To see if you remember it the same way, if it rekindles something in you?”
I experience a mild irritation, like an itch in the middle of my back. “It’s not your job to fix me, Caden. I need to do this alone.”
“I’m not trying to fix you.”
“That’s what it feels like.”
“You are perfect, just as you are.” He reaches across the table and takes my hand, squeezing a little. “But I notice you like to define things by what can’t be done, instead of what can.”
The words are like a punch in the stomach, because they vibrate through me with a truth I want to ignore. They brush against a fear I’m attempting to keep at bay, so I don’t panic. “Childhood dreams are just that—dreams.”
He tangles his fingers in mine. “I’m not suggesting you change your entire life and become a breeder. All I’m suggesting is that when you’re trying to figure out your life, it helps to revisit the things you used to love.”
“And then what?”
“I don’t know.” He gives me another squeeze. “Maybe nothing, maybe something, but it’s a place to start.”
I pull my hand away and glance out the window. “I’m afraid, you know?”
“I know.” His voice is soft. “What you’re doing isn’t easy, but I do believe in you, Catarina.”
“I feel caught between two seemingly hopeless what-ifs.”
“Tell me about them.”
My gaze narrows. The sun blazes like a fiery ball of reds, oranges, and yellows. “It’s the last thing I remember wanting, remember really caring about. What if I ride a horse and it’s everything I remember, and I want it but can’t have it?”
“And what’s the other one?”
I swallow past a tightness in my throat. “What if I ride a horse and feel nothing, and I’m left with no idea what makes me happy?”
“That’s a lot of pressure on a ride.”
I look back at him, and for a second I’m struck by his sheer presence. The gold of the late-afternoon sun streams over him, making him appear almost godlike, beautiful with all his hard lines and sharp angles. I can hardly believe he’s mine, and I feel a flash of fear that he’ll be taken from me. That some tragedy will befall this perfect cocoon of contentment and the only peace I’ve known probably since the day my daddy went out for cigarettes and never came back.
And in this moment, I come face to face with the knowledge that I don’t know how to live life without looking over my shoulder like the devil is chasing me.
My eyes prickle with sudden tears, and I blink them away.
Caden slides out from the booth and comes over to sit next to me. Putting his arms around me, he kisses my temple. “You’re gonna be okay, honey. I promise.”
I nod against his chest. “I guess maybe I should start by not assuming the worst all the time, huh?”
I feel him smile against my hair. “How about we just make some time to take a ride and worry about the rest later?”
It’s a start. And it seems like something I can do. “Okay, I’ll try.”
He crooks a finger under my chin and raises my head so he can brush a kiss over my lips. “Want to come back to my cabin?”
“Yes.” It’s one thing I don’t have to think about, that I know with certainty.
“Let’s go.” He grabs my hand and leads me to the exit.
I wave to my uncle Beau and he smiles at me, nodding what I think is approval as we make our way out the door.
The drive home is light and fun, filled with laughter—ease to keep the worry at bay. We park, and Caden turns off the engine. As soon as we’re out of the car, Gwen comes flying out of the front door, waving to us. “Caden…um…”
He tilts his head toward the cabin. “We were just about to go in.”
“Come here.” Her hand gestures become more urgent. “I need to talk to you, Caden.”
The first trickle of alarm slides down my spine, but I brush it away, chalking it up to old patterns.
She walks down the steps. “Cat can go to the cabin, but I need you for a second.”