Page 191 of Catch the Sun

“You’re right, Sunny. It is bullshit,” I tell her, cupping her face between my palms and forcing her eyes on mine. “You’re right because there is no love and war. Loveiswar. You fight until you win, or you fight until you lose. Imagine the victory after all that pain and struggle, after all those battle wounds.” I swallow, pressing our foreheads together, noses touching. “War was never meant for peacemakers. There is no place for white flags and soft hearts. It’s loud, feral, and violent. Love is a killer, but not everyone dies bloody. Some stand tall in the end.” I squeeze her cheeks between my hands and beg, “Let that be you, Ella. Let that beus.”

Her soft cry morphs into a sob as she nods, her hands curling around mywrists.

“Fight with me,” I plead, slamming my eyes shut. “Win with me.”

My heart pounds as she falls back against me, her tears seeping into my skin. I hold her, cherish her, silently beg for her to never surrender, to never give up, no matter what.

It’s worth it.

We’re worth it.

My gaze lands on the sun mural as she softens in my embrace, a restfulness washing over us both. A quiet hush of ceasefire. And I know. I feel it in that moment, in the next breath she takes in my arms. I feel her surrender…but not to the end.

She surrenders to everything we could be.

To everything we are and always have been.

Our new dawn.

Ella rests her cheek against my chest as our legs tangle atop the bedcovers. “You rarely win,” she croaks out, her finger drawing designs over my heart as she glances over at the potted carrot resting on the nightstand. “But sometimes you do.”

I smile, pressing my lips to her forehead and closing my eyes as the sun portrait fills my mind and lulls me to pure placidity. “Yeah, Sunny,” I murmur. “Sometimes you do.”

***

“Oh, my God, she’s adorable!” Ella bounds toward the young mare that afternoon, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. “Is she young?”

The horse’s tail swings back and forth as we approach, its dark-brown eyes curious.

“She’s a little over two years old,” I tell her. “She’s docile. Low energy and easily trained.”

Ella’s face is alight with wonder. “She’s perfect. Phoenix was also two when we got him, back when I was just a kid.”

I watch as she presses a nurturing palm to the mare’s mane, stroking down its nose. “Natine helped me with the adoption process. In mythology, white horses are often associated with the sun chariot,” I say, smiling softly. “Made me think of you.”

Her eyes pop as she glances at me. “I didn’t know that.” She returns the smile, her eyes panning back to the horse as it nickers, enjoying the attention.

“She’ll be ready to ride in about a year.”

“I love her already.” Ella spends a few more minutes talking to the horse, whispering kind words, and sprinkling her with loving touches. “Does she have a name?”

I shake my head. “Not yet. I figured I’d let you do the honors.”

She nods, then pulls her hand away, turning to face me. “Max…where’s your dad? Is he still in Tennessee?”

“No. I transferred him to a facility in Escanaba, where Chevy lives now and where we manage our business. It’s about a forty-five minute drive from here so I visit them both regularly,” I explain. “Dad’s thriving. They take good care of him.”

“I’d like to visit him with you some time, if that’s okay.”

“He’d love that. We both would.”

Dad talks about Ella sometimes on his more coherent days. He doesn’t remember her name—he simply asks about the pretty girl with red hair who made him brisket, wondering if she’s doing all right. I tell him she is. And then he demands I bring her flowers.

We walk side by side out of the stable, the air cool but the sun warm. Ella’s brown boots sink into the earth with each slow step as the afternoon glow splashes across her face. “Sunny Rose Farm,” she mutters at the sky, her eyes closing against the bright rays. “I like the name.”

“It suits you,” I say, bumping her shoulder with mine.

Ella leans against me, her head falling to my upper arm. “I can’t believe you did this for me. It’s too much, Max.”

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