Page 107 of Wylder Ranch
Hendricks pulls him back to standing. “Shit, are you okay?”
“Who the fuck wasthat?” he snaps, brushing himself down, though his nostrils are flaring so much he looks like he’s about to breathe fire, his eyes narrowing on the pair of them far in the distance. “And what the fuck was she doing riding along this path? It’s clearly posted, No Ponies.” He points at a sign that says exactly that and straightens up his clothes.
Alex and Hendricks shrug. Saylor and I barely saw what happened. We all stand there peering into the distance where the pony and rider disappeared. In the end, Alex throws an arm around Miles’s shoulders.
“C’mon, let’s get you a drink.”
I’ve never been inside the Aspen polo clubhouse, but it’s set out exactly how I’d imagine. Like the rest of Aspen, it’s all ski lodge vibes that look better in the winter than the summer. Christmas decorations have been replaced with glittery snowflakes and twinkle lights for the New Year’s Eve party I saw advertised at the entrance.
Miles recovers himself enough to secure us a large table by the window overlooking the polo field. The fresh snowfall is giving everything that magical vibe, and if I missed anything about Aspen in the time I was away, it’s the snow.
“I vote for champagne,” Clemmie declares the moment she sits down. “Haven, Saylor? You too? The boyswill probably have beer.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Me too,” Saylor adds, dropping into the chair opposite me.
Alex takes the seat next to mine, his hand immediately finding my thigh where it rests, even though he’s talking to Hendricks. Miles is working the room before the drinks are ordered, flitting between tables of people he recognizes, friends from the polo world, all of whom greet him with a big hug.
Saylor leans in. “How’re you feeling?”
I’m stifling a yawn as I answer, which says it all. In fact, I do feelreallytired. “I don’t know how long I’ll last before I need to go home.”
“At least stay for one game. I’ve never watched polo. Or been here.”
“One game.” I hold my finger up, which she leans over and grabs.
“I’m so happy you’re back.”
“Thank you.”
“Seriously, Havey, I know I saw you on FaceTime, but you look so good. You look like you again, only better.”
I glance down at Alex’s hand, which is now squeezing my thigh. He’s still talking to Hendricks, but I know he just heard what Saylor said, and she’s right. I’m me again, not just to look at in the mirror, but everything I can’t see I feel deep in my chest. In my heart, the old Haven is back.
Going to England healed something in me that I was too damn exhausted to attempt fixing.
“Are you happy to be home?”
I glance down at Alex’s hand again, at the vein runningdown from his fingers, disappearing into his wrist, under his watch face, and along his thick, corded forearm where his sweater is pushed up. I’m staring at it when Saylor snaps her fingers under my nose.
“Sorry. . . I was thinking.”
Her brows drop. “Thinking about whether you’re happy to be home?”
“Yes.No. Yes. Kind of. Iamhappy. Of course I am, it’s Aspen, c’mon . . .”
“But?”
My reply, which would have beenI’m thinking about where Everly should grow up, gets pushed to one side as Miles sits down, taking Saylor’s attention. Or rather, he drops down with a huff.
“No one knows who that girl is.”
“What girl?” asks Clemmie, looking up from her phone and whomever she’s messaging at rapid speed.
He stares at his sister in bewilderment, then enunciates every word. “The one who nearly killed me.”
“Ah, gotcha.” She finger guns him, which makes me wonder if she’s still sore about the Christmas card, especially when a coy smile tugs her lips as she goes back to her messaging. “I ordered drinks by the way. The server’s bringing them over.”
