Page 12 of His Saving Grace

Jake nodded. “Come on, then.” He spun and headed across the porch and down the small set of stairs.

Mason followed him to the stable, which sat a hundred or so yards away from the main buildings. He pushed to keep up, refusing to give in to the soreness in his thigh or show any weakness. The pain radiated down his leg, and he overcompensated, his limp becoming more pronounced. Fuck.

The morning sun was bright, and a sheen of sweat to broke out across his back. Maybe a black t-shirt wasn’t the best option. Yeah, because that’s why you’re sweating.

Jake stopped at the stable door and looked back over his shoulder. Mason dipped his head to stare at the ground, refusing to meet his brother’s gaze. Pity, or anything else, staring back at him would gut him. He pushed himself to move faster, blocking out the agony.

He moved up beside Jake, who had the good sense to keep his stupid mouth shut. They stepped inside, and Mason blinked against the dimness. The smell of horses and hay engulfed him, and he breathed deep. It was comforting, in a way he hadn’t realized he needed. Yup, it had been far too long since he’d been back.

Jake made his way farther into the building, Mason following behind. Jake stopped in front of one of the center stalls and turned to face the horse.

“This is Buttercup.” He stroked the horse’s nose. She was a beautiful chestnut mare. She whinnied and nuzzled his fingers, searching for a sugar cube or two. “She’ll be good to you. I swear.”

Mason wanted to take offense, but Jake was right. Especially after the bloody show his fucking leg just put on. He hadn’t been on a horse in ages, so easing back into it was the best way to go. His ego was just going to have to deal with it. No matter how much it pissed him off.

Mason reached out and let the horse sniff him. She kept her dark brown eyes locked on him as she got her fill. She snorted and tossed her head and then nuzzled his fingers. He rubbed her soft nose. “Hello, gorgeous,” he said, the beginning of a small smile teasing his mouth. “You and I are going to be great friends, aren’t we?”

The horse bobbed her head, as if in answer. He chuckled, the sound rusty and foreign to his ears. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so… charmed. Or carefree. The idea scared him a little. He pushed the thought away, maybe for dissection later, but most likely not.

Mason pulled the stall door open and led Buttercup out. He introduced himself to the cheeky girl, letting her get to know him. Jake hurried around behind them, readying a saddle and a bridle. He then deftly saddled and bridled the mare in only a couple of minutes. Mason was impressed by the efficiency.

He was still having a tough time reconciling the man in front of him with the boy he’d left behind. Yes, he’d seen and spoken with Jake over the years, but not as much as he wanted to. As much as he should have. There would always be a part of him that thought of Jake as a little boy.

Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the reins and patted Buttercup on the flank. This was probably going to hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. He lifted his foot into the stirrup and hoisted his body up, swinging his protesting leg over the animal. His right hip began to cramp, and he held back a curse. A long and loud one. The muscle spasmed, clenching tight, sending a streak of pain down his entire leg to tingle in his toes.

He lowered himself into the saddle, sucking in a deep breath and holding it. He flexed his right foot, pressing down through his heel, letting his breath out slowly between his teeth. The muscle unclenched, easing into something almost bearable.

The horse, sensing his discomfort, whinnied and shuffled to the side with a toss of her head. Mason made a soothing noise and patted her shoulder. She calmed almost immediately. He took a moment to press the heel of his hand into the burning muscle of his thigh. The quick massage eased more of the tension. He took another deep breath, centering himself. Aside from the excruciating pain, being in the saddle again felt… right.

A gentle tug of the reins and Buttercup turned to face Jake, who was busy saddling his own horse. Of course, he was riding a big black gelding. Mason expected nothing less. “Why does that not surprise me?”

Jake looked up, a cheeky grin on his smug face. “What?”

“Do I even want to know his name?”

“Lucifer.”

“Of course.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Just that…never mind. Are we doing this, or what?”

As if agreeing with Mason, Lucifer neighed, tossing his head and snorting, impatient to get moving. Jake patted the horse’s neck, murmuring softly. The horse settled down and Jake quickly finished getting him ready. Jake then swung up into the saddle and grinned at Mason.

“All right, old man, let’s do this.” Jake dug his heels into the horse’s flank. Lucifer took off, racing past Mason and his mount and out into the morning light.

Mason sighed and prodded Buttercup into motion. They exited the stable at a much slower, saner pace. Maybe Jake wasn’t so different from the boy he remembered after all.

Grace looked up from the garden box she was weeding, brushing away the sweat from her forehead on her shoulder. Jake and Mason strode toward the back porch. There seemed to be an easy camaraderie between them.

Jake said something—they were too far away from Grace to hear—and Mason laughed. It was loud and drifted toward her. A real laugh, the kind that comes from deep inside and is full of joy.

It did wonders to his demeanor. It softened his features and made him look infinitely younger. He was relaxed and comfortable and it made him seem almost boyish. The change was amazing.

There was no denying he was handsome. His dark hair and blue eyes were a striking contrast, although, since all the Callahans had the same coloring, that wasn’t what made him stand out. It was his intensity. The way his stare could look past skin and muscle and bone, and directly into your soul.

It was one of the main reasons she needed to be more careful around him. She couldn’t let her guard down. He looked at her and she had the urge to spill every secret locked up tight in her heart. Even the one from fourth grade, when she spit her gum in Amelia Turner’s hair during the school assembly after Amelia had told everyone the reason Grace didn’t have a dad was because she was too ugly.