Page 84 of Close Quarters

And like the sap I was becoming, his grateful, happy smile was all I needed to feel better.

ELLIOT

“Do you ever think about what you’ll do when you’re out of here?” Reno asked as we checked the saddlebags. There had been another ‘grand escape’ by the sheep, and for whatever reason, Reno and I were assigned as designated retrievers.

The question came out of nowhere and took me off guard. Normally, it was my job to ask questions without giving warnings or providing context. Clearly, I was beginning to rub off on him in more than just the literal sense.

“I mean, sometimes,” I said with a shrug, adjusting the strap on my horse and giving her a pat on the side of her thick neck when she snorted. “They do the job workshops once you get into Tier Two. So I was banking on that to help me along.”

“They have what now?”

“And people say I don’t pay attention.”

“You’re the one who says you actually pay too much attention.”

“Well, I guess it’s nice that you listen to me once in a while,” I snorted, looking over as he wrestled with the straps on his horse. It seemed that grumpy and quiet wasn’t the necessary combination for being good with animals. That was apparently just a Max thing. “They have all sorts of workshops. Not just, like, legal help or whatever, but stuff for people to find work and housing.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Reno said, frowning again. “Do these look right?”

I heard a snort from behind me and turned to find Max standing near the stables, arms crossed and smirking. “They gave you Cheyenne? That’s mean.”

“Why?” Reno asked, looking over the horse. “She seems fine. I just can’t get these damn straps to work.”

“Because she’s a sweet girl but a total brat sometimes,” Max said, grabbing the straps.

“Mmm, I know someone like that,” I said with a grin.

Max rolled his eyes. “Just because we know each other’s little secrets doesn’t mean we’re going to get buddy-buddy-like.”

“How’s Riley?” I asked as he fussed with the horse. “And don’t act like you aren’t talking to him. I don’t know what kind of arrangement is going on, but you’re definitely talking to him.”

“And what makes you think that?” Max asked neutrally and then gave the horse's flank a rough couple of pats. I watched as Cheyenne sucked in a sudden breath, and he tightened the straps.

“Because otherwise, you’d be moping and depressed,” I pointed out.

“I don’t mope,” he said, checking the straps before notching them.

Reno snorted. “You certainly would be without your little ray of sunshine. I’ve seen you smile twice in two days. You didn’t do that before, and you’d quit if you lost Riley.”

Max glared at him. “You know, I was capable of experiencing happiness before Riley.”

I grinned. “And you’re allowed to be your version of a grinning idiot because you’re in love.”

“Was she really pushing her gut out to keep me from tightening the straps?” Reno asked as Max stepped back.

“She was, does it all the time. Surprised they didn’t tell you,” Max said with a snort, petting Cheyenne’s head. The horse didn’t move into the touch but didn’t pull away. Figured it had to be her version of pouting. “Like I said, she’s a sweet girl for the most part, but she has her bratty moments.”

“Don’t repeat yourself,” Reno said without looking at me, but there wasn’t anyone else he could be talking to with such exasperation.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I said with a chuckle. “Are we not being seen off today?”

“I came over to make sure everything was alright,” Max said with a shrug. “It seems Leon doesn’t feel like you two need to have your hands held to pick a few sheep up.”

“I mean, yeah, I guess,” Reno said with an irritated shrug that Max ignored completely. I didn’t, though, because I recognized when he felt something other than anger. I didn’t know why, but the idea that we didn’t need to be looked over as much made Reno uncomfortable. I didn’t want to make any assumptions, but sometimes I wondered if he was all that comfortable with not…well, not being in the program. Maybe it was because of whatever he’d done to get put behind bars in the first place, or maybe it was that pesky low sense of self-worth he carried and refused to deal with.

“What’s the point of some of this stuff, though?” I asked, peering over some things they’d given us to load up. “Like…this is camping supplies and shit. Extra water…snacks?—”

“Rations,” Max corrected.

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