Page 187 of Things Left Unsaid

He picks up on my lead and then winks at me like this is some great subterfuge.This kid, I swear.“You just haven’t played the right one.”

“Now Cody’s home, you can play with him.”

“He always wins,” he grumbles as we trudge, extra noisily, down the steps.

On the final landing, that’s when I see Colt standing there, looking up at me, a soft grin curving his lips.

Above me, there’s a picture window that lets in the sun at certain times of the day. It’s uncanny how he stands in the center of the puddle of light that shines through the glass.

It makes him look like he’s wearing a halo.

At my prolonged stare, his smile only deepens.

But it’s the gleam in his eyes that seals my fate.

Because this manownsme.

And for the first time, I feel as if I might own him back…

Colt

Wicked Game - Chris Isaak

Her first step into our private stables takes us longer than a first step ought to.

“It’s all right,” I assure her. “You’re allowed inside.”

Her harrumph is reassuringly impatient. “Do you know how many times I’ve sneaked inside the Korhonen stables?”

“I can hazard a guess if you give me some time to work it out?—”

“It’s weird being allowed to enter. It’s like the devil passing through church gates.”

“That’s extreme, isn’t it?”

“Not if you’d asked our great-grandaddies.”

She’s not wrong…

The tension between our families lessened with the passing of that generation. Ranching in the modern world became hard enough without neighbors cattle rustling and sabotaging one another for shits and giggles.

In one hand, I have a bag of snacks she could need after exercising, so with my free one, I slide it beside hers and tangle our fingers. “Come on. You’re invited in.”

As I cross the threshold, I gently urge her alongside me.

The scents of the stables immediately welcome me, but it’s Callan’s stock horse, Leviathan, butting my shoulder that makes me smile.

Turning to her, I run my hand along her nose. There’s a tug on my arm, from Zee this time, and suddenly, she’s standing beside me.

“Leviathan,” she exclaims.

“How did you know?”

“Callan described her. Chestnut, but she looks like she’s been dipped in paint from the forelegs on.”

I scratch behind Levi’s ears. “That’s not a bad description. Cole says she’s like salt water meeting fresh.”

“She’s beautiful.” Her fingers hover as if she’s afraid to bridge the gap while her other hand trembles in mine.

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