The horses had clearly been waiting for the sign, because as soon as we nudged them forward, they flew.
There was something exhilarating riding like this. No destination, no finish line, just letting the wind whip your face as you traveled at a fast yet somehow almost leisurely pace across lush pastureland.
We let them run past the small, mishmash herd of cows and ended up by the creek, eventually.
As we slowed to a walk and then let the horses have their head to drink, I could see Emery’s body language had changed. He didn’t go riding much, but he was still good at it, if not born in the saddle the same way some of his siblings were.
When he turned his head to smile at me, I couldn’t help but to smile back.
“This isn’t the usual spot where everyone goes, right?” I asked, nodding at the creek the horses were drinking from.
“Ah, no. That’s maybe two miles downstream.”
I pointed at a little hill in the distance. It had a couple of small trees and a boulder on it. “Want to stop there?”
“Sure.”
Once the horses were ready, we let them find their way to the spot, guiding them with body weight and letting them have free rein. They seemed to both understand there was a break coming, and took their time while we enjoyed the journey.
Eventually, we got there and dismounted, then took off their saddles so they wouldn’t get hot.
“We can tie them to the trees, there’s enough grass around them to entertain them for a while,” Emery said.
At my suggestion, we’d left their halters on and had lead ropes, too. After we removed their bridles and hung them over the saddles on the ground, the horses shook themselves and started to graze on the summer grass.
I took the blanket and waters, then found us a good, relatively even spot near the boulder.
“Do people come here a lot?” I asked, because the hill seemed perfect for a break or a picnic.
“I think it’s Judson’s favorite place here. It’s a bit off from the usual directions we ride, though.” Emery settled down on top of the blanket and leaned his back to the boulder.
I could see why it would be someone’s favorite spot. Emery had told me all the Harrington kids had their own special places on the vast property.
I joined him on the ground, then held my arm out. “Come here.”
He gave me a little grin and shuffled closer, burrowing to my side. He exhaled and melted into me. I breathed too. I couldn’t remember being this content.
“It was scary for a bit, huh?” I murmured after several minutes of listening to the sounds around us.
“Yes. I mean, I knew what it probably was instantly. But….”
“But it was still your mom.”
He nodded against my chest and I tugged the ball cap off his hair, then pushed my fingers into his curls, tugging a little as I scratched his scalp.
A tremor went through him, and he let out a happy sound.
“My mother wants me to go to Finland to help her with her summer cabin,” I spoke quietly, as if to not disturb the peace. “I don’t want to see her.”
Only as the words left my mouth did I realize the truth in them.
Emery made an inquisitive little noise but didn’t ask.
I sighed. “My father was a functioning alcoholic. He was frustrated most of his life, I think, for not being able to provide us better things. He took it out on me, because if one thing had been hammered into him by my grandpa, it was to not ever hit a woman. So… I was the next closest person for a punching bag.” Before Emery could comment, I added, “So you can see how… howmagicalyour family seems to me. I think I was more scared for Jenn than I would’ve been for my own mother.”
Chapter 12
Emery
