Page 26 of Honey Bee Hearts

“Duke, over there,” he says, pointing to a massive horse. “He’s a Clydesdale. He’s feisty and is just as likely to throw me off as he is to let me ride him. But he and I are a team. I’ve been working with him for a few years. He was considered unrideable before he came to Circle Bee.”

I watch as he leads both Duke and Aztec out of the stables and ties them to metal rings. Then I get a long lesson about saddles and tack. Once he shows me how to put the saddle on Aztec, he unfastens everything so I can do it. I have to redo it three times before Gunnar is satisfied I know what I’m doing.

“Okay, so when we ride, you have to be in charge. Aztec will automatically give you control unlike Duke here. Duke likes to fight for control.”

Mr. Frizzle sits on the side, roosting on a little bar that Gunnar set him on.

“Is he coming with us?” I ask, pointing to the rooster.

I haven’t really seen Gunnar without the chicken. Only for meals and our first initial meeting. The rooster stays out on the porch for meals. I’d be surprised if he doesn’t come on our ride with us.

“He sits on my shoulder,” Gunnar nods. “Mr. Frizzle likes riding.”

Once the saddles are on and the horses are ready, Gunnar comes over to me. “Now, you’re gonna get up on him. Place your right leg in the stirrup and swing your left leg over into the other stirrup. I’ll let you get a feel for it first, so you’re not caught off guard when he moves.”

I immediately realize there’s going to be a problem I didn’t foresee. My right leg can’t bear my weight like this. Not yet. I need to lead with my left.

“Can I do it from the other side?” I ask, moving to the other side of Aztec.

“Your right leg is your dominant, the one you lean heaviest on. It’s easier to swing over with the other leg,” he explains.

“I don’t think I can?—”

“I’ll help you up,” he says, cutting me off. “Don’t worry, Everhart. Everyone has a hard time getting up the first time theytry. If you don’t mind my hands on you, I can lift the same time as you pull.”

I hesitate before reluctantly nodding. I really wanna go riding with Gunnar. Horseback riding is something I’ve never done, and I don’t want to miss out or make a big deal about it.

“Okay, good. Right leg in the stirrup,” he instructs. “Hand on the horn.”

I do as he says, fumbling a little bit with my leg to get it in the stirrup. I’m wearing boots and jeans, so he can’t see my prosthetic, but he has to think I’m clumsy or weak with the way I have to use my hands to get my leg into the stirrup.

“Alright, I’m going to lift you up,” he says. His hands go to the backs of my thighs. “Ready. . . set. . . up.” He cups my ass and hoists me onto the horse easily, as if I don’t weigh a thing. I swing my leg over as I get high enough and straddle the horse, settling into the saddle. “There! See! Nothing to it,” Gunnar grins, and then he pats my calf. The sound it makes is different from what he expects, and he pauses, a frown pulling at his face. His eyes trail up to mine as I flush. I can see the moment he realizes something must be different.

“I didn’t want to make a big deal,” I whisper, my face hot with shame.

“May I?” he asks, gesturing to my bootcut jeans that perfectly hid it until now.

“I. . .” I wince. Instead of answering, I nod.

Carefully he pushes my jeans up and reveals the prosthetic I’ve been hiding for a week now. His eyes widen and I wait for the change in demeanor, the pity.

Instead, he scowls up at me. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he growls. “I could have made this so much easier on you.”

“It’s not something. . . I don’t broadcast it,” I rasp.

“You thought we were going to judge you for it?” he asks, shaking his head. “I’d have thought you knew me better than that, Everhart.”

This time, my face flushes with shame. “Sorry,” I mumble.

His expression eases. “Don’t be. Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I just wish I’d have known. I could have gotten a step ladder or something. Hell, I could have picked you up and put you on the horse myself. It won’t matter while we’re riding. But it matters when getting up and down.” He presses his hand to his forehead. “Fuck. And you tried to tell me, and I just cut you off. I’m an asshole.”

“Stop,” I rasp. “Please. It’s not a big deal. I don’t want to make it a big deal.”

He looks up at me. “The limp?”

I wince. “I’m still building up strength in my leg.”

Realization flashes in his eyes, that it’s more recent than he assumed, but he doesn’t ask. He can see my discomfort, so he pulls down my pant leg, fixing it properly, before he moves over to Duke. “Alright. Well, let’s go riding then.” Just like that, he returns to normal. “Don’t hit your head on the door frame on the way out.”

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