Unknown Number:

No thank you?

I shot up a middle finger for whatever weird camera was for sure watching me from in here. After finding out about hisextracurricular hobbies, which included stalking my every move, I’d decided to live with it.

"I bet I get to name you, too," I whispered as the horse finally settled down from my excitement.

Unknown Number:

And save my number in your phone, wifey.

I glanced down at the phone, letting out another little giggle before placing it on one of the wooden slats. My eyes wandered, spotting a few brushes and other tools. I wondered if there was a saddle tucked away somewhere.

As I held the brushes outside the stall, memories from my childhood flooded back. All I ever wanted was a horse, and as a kid, I dreamed of having one when I was older and far away from my parents. I recalled a conversation with my grandmother when she asked me about my dreams of popularity and success. I had innocently replied that all I wanted was to marry someone so I could have a horse.

She clicked her tongue at me and said I needed to have bigger dreams than a simple animal. She told me I could have the entire racetrack if I wanted, but I always wanted one little horse. I don't know why, but I loved the animal. They represented freedom. The TV was once on and playing an old-school western. The bandit was running away with whatever he’d stolen, but the way the horse was moving felt like freedom, being able to run and escape.

The realization struck me—he remembered this from when we first met. He’d asked me to tell him something truthful because he thought I was lying to him.

I gently walked into the stall where the beautiful brown quarter horse stood. Honestly, I bet if I told Walsh I wanted the racetrack full of these animals, he’d get them. I set the brushesdown and grabbed a soft one before approaching the animal slowly, as I was still lost in the bittersweet memories of my childhood. The ache in my heart grew as I delved deeper into the recollections. Despite my youthful dreams, the reality of my upbringing was far from idyllic. My parents didn't care about my dreams or aspirations; they were too absorbed in their own chaotic lives.

Standing in the barn, enveloped by the scent of hay and warmth, I marveled at Walsh. The horse, meant as a joke, felt special to me. It was as if he understood the dreams I had buried beneath layers of pain and disappointment.

Tears welled in my eyes. While I cherished the horse and the joy it brought, I doubted he realized it was him I truly desired. It wasn’t about gestures or possessions; I craved his presence and understanding. Despite the joy the horse brought, the uncertainty of his absence cast a shadow over my day.

In the quiet of the barn, the echoes of my past actions reverberated, each regret intensifying my melancholy. The walls seemed to whisper reminders of the fights, provocations, and defiance that may have damaged our bond. Alone with my thoughts, I grappled with the consequences of my choices. The silence served as a haunting reminder of the pain of losing someone who could have genuinely loved and protected me like no one else.

The restof the afternoon was spent with the horse. At some point, I ran upstairs to my apartment to change into jeans and a sweatshirt. Discovering a small tack room in the back of the barn, I found a dressage saddle ready for use and the number ofan instructor on-call. Not wanting to bother the instructor so late in the day, I opted to get to know the horse on my own.

Naming him Fire, inspired by the subtle amber streak on his head and my lingering fear of flames, felt fitting. The barely noticeable, yet captivating streak suited this magnificent creature. With Fire, solace and a welcome distraction from the complexities of my current reality were found. Time seemed to pass quicker in his company.

The tranquility of the barn was disrupted by distant commotion outside, hinting at an unfolding situation that didn't bode well. "Alright, Fire, I've got to go. Seems like there's something going on outside." The horse playfully nudged its head against my shoulder, its sheer size nearly toppling me over. I chuckled. "I'll be back soon."

As I reluctantly left Fire in his stall, a sense of foreboding lingered in the air. The unexpected interruption outside suggested that a storm, both literal and metaphorical, was brewing, and I couldn't ignore the mounting tension that awaited.

I decided to pick up my phone for the first time in a while, not caring to check it because if he wanted to, he could send his minions in to yell at me. Plus, he was watching me somewhere. That’s when I realized I had missed a couple calls from him, which was out of character, and a strand of frantic texts.

Unknown Number:

Get inside.

A minute later.

Unknown Number:

Get your ass upstairs, lock the door and do not go near the windows.

Unknown Number:

NOW.

Unknown Number:

Goddamnit Madison.

I realized these had been sent fifteen minutes ago, but the commotion got louder as a throng of people crunched around the leaves outside. I could barely make out what they were saying. but then my phone buzzed again in my hand. No one called me, so I was surprised to see his number.

"Get the fuck upstairs," he growled through the other line. His voice was tinged with such an intense…fear that I didn't think twice about bounding up the stairs.