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The reminder about his uncle seemed to spur Brooks into action because he took another few steps forward, then took my hand. I was pleased that his skin still felt warm. There were no calluses on his fingers, not like mine. I almost felt embarrassed that my hands were too rough for his. It was just a reminder of how very different we both were.
"Put your left foot in the stirrup," I said as I drew him forward. I placed Brooks's hand on the saddle in front of my thigh and covered it with mine as I waited for him to do what I’d said. It took a few tries, but once Brooks had his foot in the stirrup, I said, "Now pull yourself up and swing your right leg over Grover's back."
Brooks tried a few times to follow my instructions. When he finally managed to get enough of an upward motion, his fingers suddenly left the saddle and grabbed my thigh as he swung himself up. I groaned at the contact.
“What? Did I do something wrong?" Brooks asked quickly. "Did I hurt Grover?"
Grover had shifted slightly beneath our combined weights, but the horse didn’t move beyond that. It wasn't the first time he’d carried two people on his back, but with Brooks and me being nearly the same size, it was a lot to ask of the horse.
"Nope, he's good," I said between gritted teeth because Brooks’s fingers were still pressing into my thigh. His other hand had gone around my waist and was pressed against my stomach. I really should've thought this through more.
“Is this right?" Brooks asked as he clung to me. I wanted to laugh because most men would've been more concerned about hanging on to another man the way he was. But Brooks's main priority was getting the whole thing right. I wasn't sure if that was more because he was worried about looking like a fool or if it was because he was just so used to getting everything in his life right.
"All good," I somehow managed to get out. I gave Grover a gentle nudge to get us moving. I wasn't sure how long we’d ridden before Brooks started in with the questions. It probably hadn't been more than five minutes.
"How did you find me?"
I pulled the piece of white fabric I’d pulled off the last branch during my search the night before and held it up.
"Wow, I didn't think it would work," Brooks murmured.
"It took me a while just to find them," I said. "Once I did, it didn't take long."
"I was such a fool," Brooks said softly. I found myself wishing I could see his expression, to see if the disappointment in his eyes matched what was in his voice. "I just wanted to get out of the house for a bit. I’ve been up to that cemetery so many times and the weather app made it look like it wasn't going to rain for a while."
"Weather around here is pretty unpredictable," I said. "Those fancy apps can’t always keep up." As if to support my statement, there was a rumble of thunder off in the distance. Brooks actually hugged me tighter from behind at the sound. I nearly patted his hand where it was resting on my belly.
"You probably think I'm pretty pathetic, huh?" Brooks said with a laugh that held no humor whatsoever. “I’ve always hated storms," he added. "Nice thing about New York is that it's so noisy to begin with, sometimes it actually drowns out the thunder."
I didn't comment on that. I was still thinking about what he'd said about looking like a fool. I opened my mouth to tell him I didn't think that but then snapped it shut again. I needed to remember what this man and his family had done to me.
Brooks had been nowhere in sight before or after I’d been condemned to prison. He hadn't come to see me at any of the hearings or sentencing, there’d been no letters, no nothing. His father had destroyed my entire family, and Brooks had done nothing to stop it. Yeah, he'd only been fifteen, but I'd waited for him anyway.
In my mind, it was going to be one of those ridiculous movie moments where I'd be sitting in my jail cell and Brooks would show up and grab my hand through the bars and tell me he knew I hadn’t done what his father had said I had. Then he’d tell me I was a free man because he’d taken care of everything.
It had been a foolish thing to expect from a fifteen-year-old, but I’d been so scared that my dreams had taken on an unrealistic quality. I’d been looking to be saved, had needed to be saved, and hadn't cared how it would happen.
