Page 40 of Saving Grace
“Me and Havoc are buddies, remember? You’re the one who still owes him apologies.”
He nods in defeat before dropping a kiss to my forehead and stepping back. “Let’s go catch us a fiery red colt.”
The next few minutes happen in such a flash that I’mstruggling to wrap my head around it. One minute, we are both at the gate watching Havoc kick and whinny as his body shakes with nervous energy. Then whether he catches our scents or hears our approach, I don’t know, but his entire body settles. The arched, bulging muscles in his neck seem to shrink by half as he takes to breathing heavily, his ears flicking back and forth. When the traumatized three-year-old takes steps in our direction, neck and back supple,ears forward, I say a prayer that Drew doesn’t faint from the shock of it.
This horse just soothed something in Drew with the simple action of expressing his trust to the man who was certain he had ruined the timid redhead.
And when that same gelding gently bumps his head into Drew’s outstretched hand?
Neither of us has dry eyes.
Drew clips the lead rope to Havoc’s halter while stroking the soft skin of Havoc’s muzzle. When Havoc lips at Drew’s pocketin search of a peppermint, Drew glances at me through damp lashes.
“Not a word, sunshine,” he mumbles as he pulls out three soft mints that Havoc immediately steals on our walk back into the barn.
We’re almost home free, close enough that I have Havoc’s stall open. Havoc walked like a champ from the field, past the arena, into the barn, and down the barn aisle without an issue.
Until a farmhand cranks up the old tractor at the other end of the barn.
It happens in less than ten seconds, but it feels like slow motion. Havoc rears and rocks his massive shoulder into Drew on the way up. The momentum slings Drew into the stall wall, knocking him off his feet, but the rope is looped around his hand. All my mind can conjure is Havoc coming back down on top of Drew. Or worse, giving into the instinct to run while Drew is still caught in the lead rope.
Fighting past the panic because it won’t help anything, I do my best to keep my tone conversational. Deep breath in, deep breath out. “Didn’t you learn at, like, three years old to not wrap a lead rope around your hand for reasons exactly like this?” I ask as I snag the quick release knot on the halter.
Thank God whoever put it on him tied it correctly.
Drew’s blue eyes squint up at me as he tries to breathe through the pain and not finding my statement the slightest bit amusing. “Something like that,” he groans.
As soon as the pressure on his poll releases, Havoc settles back onto all four hooves.
“Such a good boy.” I spread my arms wide and step behind his shoulder, effectively corralling him into the stall before shutting and latching the door. “You too, Havoc.”
“She’s got jokes. I’m on the ground, and she’s got jokes,” Drew huffs to himself.
“Just trying to make sure you’re still coherent,baby,” I shoot back, checking him over for any visible injuries as my heart tries to come out my throat and drop into my stomach at the same time.
“I’m fi—”
“Don’t youdaretell me you’re fine right now, Andrew Malakai.”
He winces, and a small part of me hopes it’s from my words rather than the physical pain I know he feels right now. Taking a deep breath to settle the adrenaline that has finally made its appearance, I squat in front of Drew and tilt his chin until our eyes meet.
“Tell me what you need, cowboy.”
“Vicodin,” he shoots back without pause.
“Ha! Funny guy.”
His lips quirk up just enough to ease the vise around my heart. “A little funny. A little serious.”
I groan at his ability to joke in the face of pain. “I need to know what to do here, Drew.
Seriously. Do I call 911? Drive you to the closest hospital? What?”
“Is taking me home and giving me a sponge bath a viable option?”
An undignified squeak flies out, and I’m not sorry for swatting at his uninjured side in disbelief at his misplaced humor. Even if the image does make me want to…
You know what? Not the time nor the point.
