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“How could it not? If he wants something that bad…” I thought of the yard, the disappointment of my dream slipping away from me. It hurt like a motherfucker, and I was just twenty-two, hardly any age. I still had Samson, still had my mum, still had my whole life ahead of me to find another dream.
“He’s a stronger man than I am, holding out for a dream for that long, having it thrown in your face and still keep going, still keep hoping. It can make him difficult, but Carl is a little difficult, especially at first.”
I got a tickle in my tummy at the memory. “Scary hot,” I said. “Intimidating. Blunt, too. But I like that.”
“I like that, too.” He got to his feet. “He’d have bought you this place, you know, if that’s what you wanted. He’s generous, wants to see you live your dreams. Always wants the best for people.”
He held out a hand and pulled me up, watched me as I brushed the dust from my jodhpurs. “I could never have taken it. It’s too much. Unless I could have…” I shook my head. “Probably not even then. I don’t think I could swap dreams like that, not when mine’s worth a cool couple of hundred grand.” I held my hands up. “I mean, fuck, that’s massive.”
“So is having a baby. The whole thing is massive, and way too fucking soon, like I said.”
I leaned back on the gate, looked at him, at the way the sun turned his hair chestnut, the deep brown of his eyes. He was so beautiful. “What’s the deal with you, Rick? You know all about Carl’s dreams, his shitty upbringing, mine, too. What’s your story?”
He shrugged, stared out at Samson. “Like I said, I’ve been lucky. My story is a good one.” He smiled. “Had a wild stint at university though, smoked a bit too much weed and spent all my money on slot machines.” He brought his finger to his lips. “Shh, don’t tell anyone, I’m a good boy now.” He smirked. “Seriously, my lot is a good one. Dicked about with a load of randoms, had a lot of sex and it was fun, but not fulfilling. Made it in graphic design, which is all I really wanted, to be creative.” He stepped up onto the gate, leaned over. “I have my faults. I waste way too much time. Carl’s a doer, I’m a procrastinator. I get addicted to things so easily, weird food, stupid games, getting inked. Everything. But I can live with that.” He laughed. “I’m really not that exciting or that special. I’m just a guy who tries to look on the sunny side, appreciates what he has.”
But hewasexciting. He excited me.Everythingabout Rick excited me.
“I think you’re pretty damn special,” I said. “Pretty damn exciting, too.”
It took him aback, I could see it in his eyes. “Wow. You do? That’s sweet.”
“I do.”
He grinned. “That’s mighty fucking cool. Thanks.”
I stepped up on the gate beside him, kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Rick. Thanks for coming. I was feeling shitty, you brightened my day.”
“I’d be feeling shitty too if all this was being taken away from me.” He sighed. “It’s fucking ace here, I can see why you fell in love with it.” He stepped down. “Sure you’re not tempted? Take Carl up on his offer, live the dream?”
I shook my head. “I wish I could. I’d love it if this place was mine, more than anything.” I met his eyes. “But it’s not mine, and it isn’t going to be mine. I’ll just have to accept it, move on.”
He raised his eyebrows. “That’s fighting talk. I think you’re a tough little cookie, pretty lady.”
I laughed. “Not really. I still feel like my dream’s been wrenched from my heart, chewed up and spat out at my feet. But I’m feeling inspired.” I looked at my furry boy in the field. “I mean, if Carl can go through all that, lose all those dreams, and still come out the other side, I can take this little knockback on the chin, right?”
He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, kissed my head, pulled me close. “Carl’s a mystery to me, some kind of superhuman. But if anyone else can do it, take a setback and turn it into fuel to do better, I think it’s gonna be you. You’ve got fire, little miss horsey. Fire and passion and sunshine sparkles. Don’t ever lose that.”
“Don’t ever let me lose it,” I said.
“I’ll try my best.”
We walked back through the school, up past the stable block where Rick hung up Samson’s head collar like he’d been doing it a hundred years, and it felt so good to be at his side. It felt perfect.
If only I could be that person, the person they needed. The person they wanted so badly.
I hovered beside Rick’s car. Wondering where this left us, wondering where any of this would lead. Wondering where I even wanted this to lead.
“So,” he said. “Where to now, pretty lady? Need a lift?” He opened the passenger door in invitation. “I can put the roof down, travel in style. Wherever you want to go.”
I slipped into the seat, and the answer became obvious. So obvious.
“Home, please,” I said. “Yours.”
He reached over and took my hand, pressed it to his lips and kissed me, kissed my knuckles, every single one. And he smiled. He smiled and it lit up the world.
“Let’s go home,” he said.
He lightened the mood on the way back to Cheltenham, tuned into a cheesy radio station and sang along. He put the roof down, and it felt amazing, the wind catching my hair as we picked up speed. I loved the way his fingers drummed to the beat on the steering wheel, the way he danced in his seat so easily, so freely. Even though we were exposed — on show to every passing motorist without the privacy of the car roof — Rick had no reservations, no sense of self-consciousness, and I loved that about him. It was something I loved about both of them, the way their company felt so liberating, so free from the pressure of following any kind of status quo.
