Page 31 of Back in the Saddle

Mum’s head whipped around. “Who are you calling old?”

Callum shrugged.

Mum stood and put her wine glass in the sink. She shook her head at Callum. “I’ll remember this, Callum.”

Isabelle laughed. “I’m back to being the favourite.”

Callum frowned. “Nanna doesn’t have favourites.”

Mum squeezed Isabelle’s shoulders as she headed for the door. “I’m going home now, Callum. You better think of a way to make this up to me.”

He nodded. I could practically see the cogs turning.

We all bid each other goodnight. I followed Ciaron to our room. My hands were sweating again. I imagined him turning on his heel, stalking towards me and kissing me like that first day. I’d wrap my legs around his waist, and he’d push me against the wall, kissing me. His tongue would stroke mine, eliciting a whimper from me as I begged for more.

He didn’t.

He continued to our room and stood beside the bed. I made my way around him and grabbed my PJs from where I’d thrown them this morning. I glanced at Ciaron and then at the bathroom. “I’m going to get changed.”

For over twenty years, we’d gotten naked and dressed in front of each other. I’d loved sneaking a look at the man who’d won my heart. When did I stop doing that? And why? I didn’t find him less attractive. He may have been less toned now, but he still had nice muscles and a nice arse and strong broad shoulders and a big dick. Big.

I shook my head, blushing furiously, even though I was alone. Enough with the dick thoughts. Having sex was not going to fix things. It might not even ease the tension at this rate.

I brushed my teeth, killing time so Ciaron could get changed. The vanity was full again now. His things next to mine, where they belonged. I’d hoped our origin story might reawaken his senses. The way he looked at me suggested it did, but he didn’t act on it. I spat my toothpaste out.

When I went back out, Ciaron was sitting on the bed in his PJs. He looked in my direction without making eye contact and then made his way past me. He was so close I could reach out and touch him. I could pull him towards me, if only to feel his touch, his warmth. To remind myself he was here with me. To remind him I still loved him. That our love hadn’t dried up.

I didn’t. He stepped into the bathroom and shut the door.

When he came back and he hopped into bed, I avoided making eye contact. We were lying so far apart there may as well be an electric fence separating us. But jeez, that fence was powerful. Electric current jumped the gap, sparking across my body.

I let out a nervous laugh, which was more like a bark. “The first night we spent

together was easier than this. At least we knew our boundaries then.”

Quietness. Nothing. No response. Was he going to say something?

“You telling me that if I tried anything you would handle me like a 500kg horse probably had something to do with it,” he said.

I smiled. “You were so cocky when you whispered ‘define anything’ into my ear.” I spoke to the ceiling instead of turning to him. It felt safer that way, not too personal, even though we were sharing a fond memory and a bed. Even though I wanted to touch him.

He laughed. “And then you ‘handled’ me so quickly I didn’t understand how I landed on the floor.”

“But you weren’t fazed at all. You got straight back up, wrapped your arm around me and went to sleep.”

“It was the best sleep I’d had in years.”

I knew now it was because he always slept with one ear open to protect his family. But when he was with me, that pressure disappeared, and he felt serenity. Would he feel that serenity tonight?

I wanted to reach my hand out to his but kept it still against my thigh. Sharing memories could be just that. We couldn’t reconnect unless we spoke about our problems. If only we hadn’t lost our way. If only I hadn’t thought the farm was more important. Do I work backward to address my failures? Would it even make a difference? I had to try. I had to fight. For us.

“Ciaron?”

“Aye.”

I stared into the darkness. I wanted to face him, but if he rejected me, I wouldn’t be able to hide my pain.

“I’m sorry I accused you of cheating.” I inhaled deeply and ploughed on. “I could tell you at least ten reasons why I did it. But nothing excuses it.”

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