“Whenareyou planning to move in?” I asked as we fell into step side by side, heading down the sidewalk toward our dinner spot.
Ellie shrugged, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Maybe in the next couple of weeks? I don’t know. I can’t even begin to think about that right now.”
There was defeat in her tone. Her shoulders slumped. My steps slowed to catch her attention.
I looked at her, and she must’ve felt my prolonged stare because her eyes flicked back to mine.
“Quit looking at me like that.” She brushed it off with a smirk and bumped me with her hip.
“Like what?”
“Like something is wrong with me.”
“Ellie…”
“For now, I just want to enjoy the sunshine and your charming company. It always makes me feel better.”
I reached out and caught her by the waist, pulling her in to wrap an arm around her shoulder.
“Fine,” I said. “Speaking of company, Boone’s throwing a bonfire this weekend. You wanna come? Pretty sure the whole crew’s going to be there.”
She grinned. “Considering I live there, I feel like it would be weird if I didn’t.”
I laughed, savoring the sound of her voice, the weight of her beside me.
Within a few short minutes—and a lighthearted conversation about the quirky customers who wandered into Petal Pusher that afternoon—Ellie and I walked into the restaurant and were greeted by a hostess. She led us through the cozy dining room to a table tucked in the far corner, away from the low hum of voices and clinking glasses.
I pulled out a chair, and Ellie sat with a grateful smile, a smile so soft and familiar it never failed to get to me. I circled the table and took the seat across from her.
“Did Boone and my dad get back with the new horse yet?” she asked, eyes skimming the menu like she was actually considering something other than her usual. I knew better. She wasn’t changing a damn thing.
“Not before I left,” I said, settling into my chair. “Boone texted that they had to make a pit stop. Told me they wouldn’t be back before dark and not to wait around.”
She nodded, humming in response, the menu forgotten as she leaned back in her seat.
The waitress came over, pad in hand, and took our orders. Just as I expected, Ellie stuck with her go-to—penne vodka and a side of fries. I went with chicken parm and a side salad. Some things were predictable—like her food choices, or the way she tucked one leg beneath her on the chair, crisscrossed and comfortable.
“Are you going to be the one to break her in?” I asked, taking a sip of water.
Ellie grinned, that old spark igniting in her eyes. “Come on. Who else would do it? No one’s as good as me.” She playfully buffed her nails on her shoulder, a motion indicating she knew it and didn’t mind owning it.
“Fair point.” I smiled. “I’m excited to see you work your magic again.”
Ellie had this uncanny ability with horses. It wasn’t just skill—it was instinct, connection. Animals trusted her. This would be her first time back in the saddle in over a year, and though she played it cool, I knew something deeper stirred beneath the surface because I knew her.
We slipped into conversation about past horses—names, stories, memories stitched together with laughter and a bit of wistfulness. Then her voice dropped just slightly.
“I just wonder…will I love it as much as I used to?”
“It’s going to feel good,” I told her. “Like riding a bike. Muscle memory, you know?”
She nodded, eyes dropping to her nails. A moment passed in silence, and I let it. I could see her thinking—bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she nibbled on the skin. When she looked back up, those brown eyes locked on me, and I swear I forgot to breathe.
“I’ve been really in my head.” Her voice was low.
“That what you didn’t want to talk about on the walk here?”
She gave a single nod. “I just feel like… like everyone’s watching me. Waiting to see if I’m still messed up. If I show the slightest crack, people are going to use it as proof that I’m still a charity case.”
