Page 35 of Every Single Wildflower
I lead Sugarfoot down the alley way, walking past him in silence, not even sure how to respond.
He slaps a hand on my shoulder. “You deserve to be happy. Your pops would want that.”
With a tight dip of my chin, I leave the barn. I spot Ivy walking down the porch steps, and I swear she just gets more beautiful every time I see her. When she approaches, she gives me a timid smile, her hands shoving into the back pockets of her jeans.
“You ready?” I ask.
She blows out a breath. “It’s not like I have a choice, do I?”
“Put your boot in the stirrup.” I’ve already repeated myself twice.
Ivy stands next to Sugarfoot, her hands clenched at her sides.
“I can’t.” Her voice is strained and her eyes pinched. “I’m not ready, Maddox.”
“Youareready.” I step over to her, running my hand up her back. “Now reach up and grab that saddle horn.”
“I ca..” she starts, but I slide up farther to grip the nape of her neck. “That’s the last time you say I can’t.”
I apply just enough pressure that her lip's part and I smile when her eyes flutter closed. We’ve been out here for two hours as she reacquaints herself with Sugarfoot. She's walked her and loped her in a circle. Pretty much everything that works up to this. To her facing her fear and putting that shit to rest. She loved it too much to never experience it again.
Something I can relate to.
“Now.” I release her neck. “Get your ass on this horse.”
She glares, her eyes shooting daggers at me as she dramatically slaps a hand on the saddle horn. “Happy?” She mutters.
“Not yet. Not until you’re sitting pretty, darlin.” I tap the seat of the saddle.
Gripping the horn, she concentrates on a deep breath, closing her eyes as she lets it out. Her left boot lifts to land in the stirrup, and she pauses when it’s securely in place. “I’m scared.”
I edge closer. Not close enough to interfere but close enough for her to feel safe.
“I know. But I’m right here. I won’t let you get hurt.”
“Gee, where have I heard that before?” She mocks. “You said that before, right? Or maybe I’m just confused,” she scoffs.
“Ivy,” I deadpan.
“Get back, Maddox.” She grits her teeth.
With a tug from her arms and a swing of her leg, she catapults up to straddle the saddle, her body settling over Sugarfoot’s back.
She’s stiff, her thighs squeezing, showing off her discomfort. Sugarfoot shifts, so I place one hand on the bridle and one on Ivy’s thigh.
“Woah,” I say, stilling her movements.
Ivy tenses beneath my hand and I smooth my palm up her thigh. “Relax. She can feel how tense you are.”
She closes her eyes, hands gripping the saddle horn as she mutters something under her breath.
“Good girl.” I let loose of the bridle, letting my hand drift over Sugarfoot’s neck while my eyes remain on Ivy.
Her eyes pop open and I can see her throat bob as she swallows at my words.
“We’re gonna go slow, ok?” I squeeze her leg.
She nods. “Just give me a sec.”
