Page 39 of Freeing the Wild
“Well, I’d like to say life is fair.But it isn’t and I’ll tell you something else.Don’t you dare lie down.You can’t get that spark back by giving up.”
I start laughing.“Thanks for the tips.You here all week?”
Haden shakes his head and I see a hint of a smirk on his face.
“I’ll always be honest with you,” he says pointedly, and I can tell he means it.“This isn’t something that will solve itself today.It’s going to take time, and probably more tears, and more frustration.But, in the meantime, fresh air and riding on horseback is a good start, so … I’m gonna take this coffee and wait right on your porch while you get up, get showered and get moving.It’s a perfect day for a ride,”
I blink.“You want to ride?Now?”
“That’s what I said.”
I realize in this moment how nice it is to actually have someone listen to me without judgment.To just be there, in my corner.I breathe a little deeper and say nothing as I stand and nod.
“Okay.”
Haden puts his cowboy hat back on his head and tips the brim to me.
“Atta girl.And dress warm.”
As I hear the front door close, I make my way to the bathroom, with my head feeling clearer than it has in a while.I let the hot water soak through my bones and think about Haden’s words.Fuck grace.He’s right.I’ve been acting likeIdid something wrong, or like I owe the world an explanation for being human.I’ve been wallowing in self-pity for days, and that is not the woman I want to be.I shouldn’t have to apologize for being human or keeping some aspects of my life private.Screw Dax for making me feel like I should.
As I rinse the conditioner from my hair it hits me that, over the last few days, I’ve pushed everyone away: my band, my mother, Ivy, Dax, and anyone who’s tried to call or text.But the only one who didn’t take no for an answer when I tried to push him away, the only one who cut right through my protective layer and made me feel heard, was Haden Westbrook.Andthatsurprises the hell out of me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Haden
“Alright.So what do you remember about tacking up a horse?”I ask Cassie as I tighten up my cinch.
I watch the little knot form between her eyebrows.She already looks worlds better than she did when I got to her place earlier.After some coffee and food, she appears good and sober.She’s wearing a pair of jeans I’m trying really hard not to let distract me, a big wool sweater, cowboy boots, and a puffy vest.On her head, covering her long wavy hair, is a tattered old cowboy hat that looks like it might be vintage.Little flakes of snow dust the top and, in the crisp winter air, there isn’t even a breath of wind to blow them off.
There is something about this woman that makes it very fucking difficult to keep her at arm’s length.Seeing that video earlier, the look of terror in her eyes, the way she clutched her body, having nothing else to cling to but herself?Christ, that was heartbreaking.But beyond the trauma of that night, there are other demons she’s grappling with.And I can’t pretend I won’t be there for her if she needs an ear or someone to lean on.I’m not saying I’m not still pissed at her for dismissing me, but seeing her that vulnerable makes me wonder what other truthsshe’s hiding.How deep that well goes.If all I can offer her today is some fresh air and a break from living in her own head, then that’s what I’ll do.
She turns to me now as we prepare to ride.“The pad goes first.I remember that.Then the saddle.”
“You want to swoop it over.This one is heavy.”The rack contains a saddle that will fit her frame and is a good size for the Morgan she’ll be riding.A calm horse this time.Unlike Outlaw.
“I can lift it,” Cassie says, grabbing a step stool from the corner and dragging it over beside her horse.She steps up onto it and puts the saddle pad on the horse’s back.“What’s his name?”
“Aspen,” I tell her.She gives me the “gimme” hand signal so I oblige, handing her the forty-pound saddle and eyeing her cautiously.It weighs her down, and a little squeaking sound escapes her as she lifts it up.I smother a grin.
“Still got it?”I ask.
“Yes,” she says instantly.
“Try not to fling it on him.You want to set it.You want him comfortable.”
“I know,” I hear her grunt as she lifts the saddle up and sets it on Aspen’s back.Once I’ve finished checking my own horse, Odin, I turn back to find her straightening her saddle.She pats Aspen gently, whispering something in his ear as she does.
“All coming back to you?”I ask.
“Yeah,” she says as she climbs down from the stool and rounds the other side.
“Before you do up the cinches, make sure the pad is even on both sides,” I tell her.Miraculously, she doesn’t argue and does what she’s told.
“Front cinch first?”she asks.I fold my arms over my chest and nod.She’s got this.“Like riding a bike,” she says, doing up the cinches and buckling them.I make my way over and pull on them to check they’re tight enough.
“Not bad, Princess.How long has it been since you’ve ridden?Truth,” I add.
