Page 94 of High Intensity

Her voice is as excited as the expression on her face.

“Yup. Lucas has his own horse; his name is Judge. He’s really big, but very gentle.” I grin when I see her mouth drop open. “I take it you like horses?”

I love that she’s taken to calling Lucas by his given name. As much as I think Wolff suits him, I like Lucas better, it feels more personal, even intimate.

“I love them. I always wanted one, but Dad says first I have to be old enough to look after it on my…” Her voice drifts off as she realizes what she just said.

A fat tear starts rolling down her cheek and I feel my own eyes well up. I curse my sling as I clumsily pull her into a one-armed embrace, but her two arms more than make up for it as they band around my waist.

I manage to hold my own tears at bay as I wait out hers, while the dogs crowd us, sniffing and prodding with their noses, wanting in on the action.

“You know…” I start when the dogs finally manage to pry us apart. “I’m sure Lucas would be happy to show you around the ranch.”

“Really? Would you come?”

“Sure. We can talk to him tonight when he gets back.”

Lucas left early this morning to deliver a horse to a rodeo training facility in Polson with Jackson. He mentioned he’d probably be gone most of the day.

The prospect puts a little smile on Hayley’s face, even if it doesn’t chase the shadows from her eyes. I doubt anything would be able to accomplish that.

“Would you like some hot chocolate to warm up?” I offer when we’re almost back to the house. “Maybe build a fire too?”

It’s been bitter cold these last few days. So cold my eyelashes have frost on them.

“With marshmallows?”

“I don’t know if I have any, but we’ll check the pantry.”

Once inside, Hayley takes on the task of removing the booties I make the dogs wear when it’s this cold, while I dive into the pantry to search for supplies.

“No marshmallows,” I announce when I resurface. “But…I do believe I have heavy cream I can whip to go on top of the hot chocolate.”

I find the container in the fridge and pull out a bowl and my hand mixer.

“Actually, maybe you can whip the cream while I do the chocolate?”

A few minutes later I’m at the stove, stirring cold milk into the chocolate syrup I made with real cocoa, sugar, and a splash of water, when Hayley suddenly turns off the mixer and looks up at me.

“Grandma would order me hot chocolate at the après-ski at the hotel in Whistler.”

I immediately shut off the burner underneath the pan and turn to face her.

“I’m so sorry. We can make something else,” I offer.

I can see her swallow hard as she shakes her head. “No, that’s okay. It hurts but it’s a good memory, right?”

The hopeful way she looks at me tears at my heart.

“You bet. You hold on to those good memories, because as sad as they make you now, at some point they’ll become like a warm blanket to hug you when you need it.”

She appears to think on that for a moment before nodding and switching the mixer back on.

Then I turn back to the stove and relight the burner, letting my mind drift back to the last time I made hot chocolate for Macy, and let the warm memory wrap around me.

Twenty-Eight

Wolff

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