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thirteen
greyson
Upon crossing the threshold of the barn, I stride over to Rascal’s stall, grinning as his big ole horse’s head pops out once he senses me. The earthy, sweet scent of hay swirls in the air as the animal paces back and forth in his space.
“Hey buddy. I really need you today. Ready for a ride?” I stroke his soft coat and my shoulders relax as the anxiety ebbs away.
Shelby’s boisterous voice booms behind me, and I spin on my heels. My old friend decked out in head-to-toe ranching gear smiles, the grooves indented in his cheeks deep and tan from the summer sun.
“Rascal’s been missin’ ya, son.” He winks, his weather-beaten jeans swish as he comes closer.
“I know. Things have been crazy around here and—”
Shelby arches a fluffy white eyebrow in my direction and embarrassment creeps up my neck.
“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I haven’t been following through on this part of our terms lately.” A breath gusts from my lungs and I grab a brush from the hook to drag through Rascal’s silky mane. The action alone releases the pent-up energy locking up my muscles from the last few weeks.
“Son, when I offered to be your sponsor, I didn’t step in to badger you to do anything—only support you however I can. You’ve come so far over the years. I’m proud of you.” He slaps me on the back with his work gloves before ambling out to the pastures. Stopping, he glances over his shoulder. “But if you need me, you know where to find me.”
Shelby and I are kindred spirits. He’s been my right hand for as long as I can remember, a second father, and now my sponsor. His wife Lena passed away years ago and ever since we’ve met, he took it upon himself to look after me. Gratitude doesn’t cover it.
Once Rascal accepts his saddle, I lead him out of his stall and through the barn to the open field beyond the fences. I swing myself on top of him and gather the reins, breathing in the delicate lavender and fresh grass swaying in the warm summer air. Letting the gentle breeze wash over me and pepper my skin with goosebumps, I ride.
With every stride of his powerful legs, Rascal takes me farther and farther away from the struggles I’m facing. I ride out all the pain, all the insecurity, all the doubts. In the past, I would’ve reached for the bottle, drowned all the misery, only for it to rear its ugly head the next day on top of a raging headache. I was one step away from death with every drink I downed, every shot I threw back. Until Scarlett and Theo saved me. I should be thankful for what I have, how far I’ve come. And I am. There’s no doubt I have it made in the shade.
But I can only shove the jealousy over Kellen so deep before it seeps from my pores. If we didn’t have Theo, I could avoid her as if my life depended on it and, in a way, it does. My restraint coils under my skin, waiting to strike, and when it does, I’ll be the one in trouble.
Rascal slows to a halt when I pull on the reins. We’re at the edge of SoS, right where Scarlett’s TAG Center is going up half a mile away. Crew members in their yellow vests roam the site. Hammering and buzzing fills my ears. It’s nestled in the protective forest and I have no doubts it will be a success once it’s functioning.
Rascal shifts as I slide off and pat his shoulder before leaning against the side of his broad muzzle, inhaling his scent of grass and warm skin. These animals contain an innate healing elixir. Strong, dependable, patient, graceful to a fault. Forgiving. The best medicine for people like me, born with the natural inclination to crave, thirst, and seize no matter the destruction those desires bring.
“I’m so fucking proud of her.” I tell him, his walnut eyes blinking with understanding. We both watch the workers continue their ministrations, the frame transforming day by day into a full-fledged building. The completed structure, vivid in my mind, is full of Scarlett’s personal touch and a name she picked out. She named it after us. That has to mean something, doesn’t it? I release my heavy sigh into the open air. If only it were that easy. Doesn’t mean she sees me as more than a friend.
“We’ll bring you out here and let you run with the other horses when it’s finished. How does that sound, buddy?” Nudging my neck with his wet snout, I laugh, and pull a sugar cube from my pocket and let him nibble it out of my palm. “You’re so agreeable. And here I am chatting it up with a horse. I really need to get a life, dude.”
Chuckling, I turn from the site and jump back in the saddle. One more look and I turn Rascal back toward the stables and back to reality and its tough lessons. You can be everything a person needs, be right there in front of them and still never get to have them. Yet, life goes on and so must I.
* * *
Forever Mae’s diner,forever my favorite place to eat. Hands down. Once Isaac and Lynn took over a few years ago, they changed the name as a thank you to Tuck, the previous owner and his late wife, who put some much heart and soul, and possibly butter, into the place. Theo and I frequent it weekly and he’s obsessed with the new menu additions, like the sweet potato pancakes—Lynn’s new specialty.
The door chimes as I open it and inhale the smells of fried chicken, buttermilk biscuits, and—I wrinkle my nose—are those pickles? That’s the one thing I can’t do. Pickles. Who puts those nasty fake ass cucumbers on their chicken?
“Afternoon, Grey. Just you, or someone meeting you?” Bree asks from the hostess station, fingering the ends of her blonde hair, snapping the gum in her mouth.
“Savy’s on her way.”
Nodding, she leads me back to my usual table and sets me up with some fresh iced tea. Almost every seat is occupied. Most are regulars, but I spy a few clients from SoS, their chatter blending in with the clatter of plates and sizzles from the kitchen grill.
Ten minutes later, Savy slides into the booth across from me, a plume of vanilla trailing behind her. “I’m exhausted. Mr. Booth was on my schedule today. After the fifth broken arrow, I cut it short.” She flops her head onto the tabletop before sitting upright and tossing her long chestnut braid behind her shoulder and straightening her SoS t-shirt.
“Tell me about it. That crime show you got me hooked on… I finished it last night, stayed up way too late.” A yawn stretches wide my mouth, punctuating my statement.
“Don’t tell me what happened! I can’t watch it with your brother. He says it gives him heartburn.”
I roll my eyes and spawn a wicked smirk. “P gets heartburn by the mere mention of heartburn.”
“Stop it.” She laughs and unrolls her silverware. “He’s just not weird like us and doesn’t understand our fascination with serial killers.”
