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And then, with a soft snort, Thunder made that move, taking a step toward her. It wasn’t immediately clear whether it was a threat or an admission of trust. Millie held her ground and the horse took another step. He walked closer, then closer still, until he was standing right in front of her, head bowed and eyes locked with hers.
The moment felt electric.
She saw herself reflected back in his eyes. Scared. Defined by her past. Damaged by her own self-image. “It’s okay,” Millie said, gently. “We don’t have to be those people anymore. We can change. We can grow.”
There was a moment.
Thunder blinked. He looked at Millie and snorted again. And then, with a soft nicker, Thunder leaned in and pressed his forehead against hers.
It was a gesture of trust. A gesture of healing. A gift from one broken soul to another.
Millie reached out and rubbed his glossy, black mane. It was warm from the sun. “Are you gonna let me in, boy?” she whispered.
Thunder made a soft noise and was still. Millie looked over at the saddle which she had prepared. Thunder had been mounted many, many times in the past, but maybe he’d never been mounted in a gentle way. She had to make sure that this first experience for him was a good one.
As she walked to the saddle, Thunder remained reassuringly still. Millie felt as though she was on the edge of something. She just hoped that she had enough bravery to step off.
Millie kept her breath even as she picked up the saddle, and she moved back toward Thunder. This was the critical moment, and she knew it.
“We can do it,” Millie whispered, and, for the first time, she believed it.
She was about to put the saddle up and over Thunder when she heard it: a shout of fury, coming straight from the ranch house. Instantly, she felt anxiety, and immediately, she knew that Thunder sensed it too. He reared up and whinnied loudly, and Millie had to step back.
As the shouting got louder, closer, Thunder grew more worked up.
“It’s okay, boy,” Millie said, desperately. But she didn’t believe it anymore. The fear had found its way back into her.
As Thunder reared up again, she knew she had to get out of there.
Thunder came closer, and Millie let out a scream.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ifithadn’tbeenfor that scream, things might have gotten really, really bad.
In the moments before the two of them heard Millie’s voice carried on the breeze, it had felt as though there was no way out of their disagreement.
It was when Takis ordered Chuck to leave the ranch house that he got really, really mad. “You want me to leave? To leave the ranch? This is my fucking home! I grew up here! My parents died here!” He gestured out into the hallway. “You want me to show you the room I found my mom dead in? You want me to explain to you why, even if Ididleave this place, it would never really leave me?”
“Calm down,” Takis said. And those two words sent Chuck over the edge.
He hadn’t been physical with anyone for a long time, and Takis wasn’treallyhis target. The pain was his target. His shame was his target. Takis just happened to be the focus of those feelings at that moment.
When Chuck exploded forward, Takis reacted like the MMA fighter he had been: with control, authority, and power.
He took the Greek by surprise and managed to land a single blow on his cheek. But only one. Chuck couldn’t keep up with his boss’ movements, and before he knew what was going on, the other man had his arm pinned behind his back.
“Are you going to calm down?” Takis asked.
Chuck felt the threat in the way Takis was holding him. If he wanted to, he could break Chuck’s arm easily.
“Fuck you, Takis.” Chuck spat. “This is over.”
“You think you’re ready to be someone’s Daddy?” Takis asked as he started to move Chuck out of the office. “You’re not even capable of looking after yourself.”
“Let go of me!” Chuck snarled, furious at being manhandled like this. This was the rage he’d been terrified of letting out, the rage that he knew, deep down, was stopping him from being the person that he wanted to be.
Everything was a blur, all filtered through the red mist that had completely taken control of Chuck’s body and mind. He felt heat, rage, and endless anger. Memories of his parents were right there, pressing up against him — his dad, mangled and crushed by the bull that killed him. His mother, pale and sickly, crushed by the same bull that had killed his father, only indirectly, a few months later.
