Page 68 of Told You So
“I’m more worried about Nick,” she says with a wry smile. “Jesse can ride with me. I don’t take up much room.”
“I’m okay with that. Jes—?” He’s already nodding before I can finish. “Well, there you have it.”
“Great.” Sam flings her leg over the railing effortlessly, like she does it all the time, then she jumps into the arena and meets us in the middle.
“Yeah, don’t worry about me, Sam. I’m happy to go on a trail ride. Thanks for asking.” Nick winks at me, and I wonder if this is how it always is between them. Playful and easy.
He jumps down from his horse and helps Jesse move to the back of the saddle so Sam can climb up. Once everyone’s back in the saddle, we head out of the arena, Sam and Jesse taking the lead.
She opens the gate, and Nick closes it once we’re through. We make our way around the pasture, toward the hills that line the backside of the property.
“Hold onto your reins,” Nick says, coming up behind me. “They’re going to get excited with all the green grass. Once Trinity goes down for a bite, you might not get her head back up,” he teases. Or, at least I think he’s teasing. Trinity perks up and her ears pivot around at the change of scenery. “They love going off-road.”
“I don’t blame them. I’d get bored running around in circles, too,” I say.
We ride in companionable silence, and every so often, when Jesse looks back at me, I wave in reassurance.
“So, are you going to tell me why you don’t like riding?” I ask, unable to resist a smirk. I can tell it’s a touchy subject, but he has to know I was going to ask.
Nick looks at me askance. “I had an accident when I was seven. Totally not a big deal, I just never wanted to get back on again.”
“It sounds like a big deal if you didn’t want to ride.”
Nick shrugs. “It is what it is. I barely remember it, actually. I think it was the fear that became the monster, more than the memory, if that makes any sense.”
“It does,” I say, knowing my fears rule me more than I’d like them to sometimes.
He peers out at the rolling hills as our horses start up the incline.
“But, you’re riding today. For Jesse?”
He shrugs. “For Jesse. For me.”
He’s quiet for a while, and I worry I’ve hit a nerve until, finally, he speaks again. “Thank you for the other night.”
“What, for taking you home? It’s the least I could do.”
“But you didn’t have to stay,” Nick adds quietly. “I appreciate it.”
I blush. “I wasn’t sure you even remembered any of that.”
Nick doesn’t say anything else, and once again, the silence between us stretches as we make our way toward a large oak tree on the crest of the hill. Sam and Jesse veer off and make their way down toward the lake.
“We can wait up here,” Nick says, anticipating me. “Jesse will be fine. We can see Reilly’s place from up the hill. There’s an outlook Sam’s dad used to take me to a long time ago. You can see most of the property.”
I stare out at the glinting water. Growing up here seems like a dream, one I might not have appreciated in another life. We make our way through the woodsy hillside, twigs and leaves and debris crunching beneath the horses. Every now and again, Trinity tears a long green weed from the ground, growing too tall to resist.
We weave around trees and up and down the landscape, over logs and around rocks, until we finally come to a small clearing. As our horses come to a stop, I admire the way the blue skies kiss the tops of green and the rolling hills and oak forest that stretch out beyond the outlook.
“This is all theirs?” I ask. The beauty of it is humbling in a way that living in town has never been. “I feel so small.”
“It’s not all theirs, but a lot of it is. Reilly has some of it, and there are fence lines Sam’s never crossed, up in those hills further back.”
I scan the property on the other end of the lake and find Jesse and Sam making their way up to the house. Sam helps Jesse down and when she opens the pen, a black and white dog runs up to him, tail wagging excitedly.
“So, Sam and Reilly live in houses across the lake from one another, huh?”
Nick nods, dismounts Target, and wraps his reins around one of the low oak branches. “Pretty much.” He glances back at me. “You might want to stretch your legs. You’re going to be sore, if what I’m feeling is any indication.” He winces and does a quick lunge.
