She gasps like I just offered her the most serious job in the world. “I can do that.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” I reply, nodding once like this is a formal agreement. “But it’s a big responsibility. You’ve got to keep an eye on Uncle Wade. He’s the main problem.”
Behind me, I hear Wade snort. “I can hear you, you know.”
“That’s because I’m not hiding it,” I shoot back, not even turning around, and Hadley laughs, the sound light and quick, like it’s been sitting there waiting for a reason to come out.
“I can watch him,” she says, completely serious again, like we’ve just sealed something official.
“Good,” I tell her. “If he gets into the cookies again, we’re all in trouble.”
“I heard that,” Wade mutters.
“Still not worried,” I answer, and this time I do glance back just long enough to catch the look he throws my way before I turn back to her.
Hadley shifts closer, like the distance that was there yesterday doesn’t exist anymore, and I let it happen, careful not to make a big deal out of it. Careful not to move too fast or too slow, just matching her where she is the way I would with any horse that’s still deciding if it trusts you.
“You ever ridden before?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
She shakes her head. “No, but I want to.”
“I figured,” I say, smiling just enough to keep it easy. “Most people do.”
She tilts her head, studying me like she’s trying to figure something out. “Do you ride a lot?”
“Yeah,” I answer. “Probably more than I should.”
“Why?” she asks.
I huff out a quiet breath. That’s a harder question than she realizes. “Because I’m good at it,” I say finally, keeping it simple. “And because it makes sense when other things don’t.”
She nods like that’s the most reasonable answer she’s ever heard, and I don’t know if that says more about her or me.
“Can I try someday?” she asks.
I glance past her for just a second, catching Riley’s eyes where she stands by the barn opening, still watching, still measuring everything, and I don’t miss the tension sitting there, even now.
“Someday,” I say, bringing my focus back to Hadley. “When your mom says you’re ready.”
She considers that, then nods once, accepting it without argument, and that alone tells me more than anything else about how she’s been raised.
“Okay,” she says.
I reach out and adjust the brush in her hand, guiding her grip just a little so it sits better, and she follows the movement without pulling away, trusting me in a way that hits somewhere deeper than I expected.
“You’re doing good,” I tell her, quieter this time, not for show, not for anyone else, just because it’s true.
She beams again, and it’s not the kind of smile you fake or force, it’s the kind that comes from knowing you did something right, and for a second, I forget about everything else sitting around this moment.
The past.
The questions.
The fact that five minutes isn’t enough time to build anything that lasts.
But it’s a start.
And right now, that’s all I’ve got.
