Page 191 of Things Left Unsaid

When I’m done, I guide him out of his stall and then head for Jas’s.

Finding Zee with her face pressed against the mare’s, forehead to forehead, has something inside me tightening.

It reminds me of the past but also tells me that, for however long Zee’s around, Jas’ll be her ride.

Neither prospect saddens me.

“Zee?” I prompt.

She hums as she grabs the reins. Gently tugging on them, she leads Jas out of the stall and joins me in the aisle.

That’s when she slips her foot into the stirrup and kicks her leg up and over.

“The joys of being under six feet,” I tease, knowing that with Fen’s height—nineteen hands—and my own, there’s no way I’m getting out of the stableselegantlyif I mount him inside.

“There have to be some perks,” she agrees, her hips rocking from side to side as she finds her seat.

I don’t move from my spot, not wanting to rush her.

It might have been a decade since she was on horseback but her posture’s still there—she’ll ache like hell tomorrow though.

“Did you check your monitor?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

My brows lift.Well.

She peeps at me, her cheeks flushed. Clearly, that did something for her too.

Both of us ignore the buzz that lit between us and she walks Jas forward, hands relaxed at the reins.

I follow her outside, watching the sway of her slim hips. There, I bound onto Fen’s back, and together, we trot onto the small, graveled path that’ll lead to one of the hundreds of gates on the property.

Neither of us says a word.

I keep an eye on her, making sure she’s okay, maintaining a slow pace that’d have Fen chomping at the bit if we used one, but Jas keeps him in line for me—Fen has the hots for her and tends to let her have her head.

I know how he goddamn feels.

Zee’s a balanced rider. Quiet and gentle with the bit and reins, constantly leaning over Jas’s neck to praise her and smooth a hand over her mane. It doesn’t take long for Jas to get used to Zee’s much lighter weight, either. Or the saddle.

I’ve never been light and I stopped using a saddle with Jas years ago, but she doesn’t appear to be affected by the difference.

When we make it onto the open prairie, she drops the reins. Jas stops immediately but with a soft click of the tongue and a gentle nudge of Zee's knee, she continues onward while her rider raises her arms and opens them to the world.

It’s like a stretch and a homecoming all at the same time.

I stay silent, but I watch her. More than I do the path ahead. I trust Fen to guide me safely, for one. Mostly though, she’s more interesting than anything Pigeon Creek, hell,Canadahas to offer.

The sun glints off her dirty blonde hair, making her pale peach skin gleam gold. When she turns to look at me, her mossy green eyes glitter in the light beneath the hat I plopped on her head before we left the house.

She’s not Arwen—she’s more. Everything.

I stare at her and the years blur again.

I rarely got to see her on Jez because she’d sneak in and sneak out of the stables, using a worn path between our properties to ride onto the Seven Cs.

But here she is.

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