Page 22 of Captivated
There were times when Nate wanted to confront the doctors, the ‘therapists’, all those bastards who’d left him with a pervasive sense of shame and self-loathing, who’d reduced him to a shell of his former self, emotionally numb and distrustful of others.
As for what he’d do to them if he ever saw them again?
He was making a list, trying to keep the things that wouldn’t have him sent to prison at the top of it.
Nate sat on the couch, his hands a little clammy.
Breathe. It’s going to be okay.
Except he didn’t know that for sure.
He couldn’t sit still anymore. He grabbed his jacket, then changed his mind. He wouldn’t need it, according to the forecast. He’d stuffed his sketch pad and pencils into his bag. If he needed his easel, it was in the trunk of his car.
I’ve never been within three feet of a horse. This could be a disaster.
Footsteps on the porch.
This was it.
Nate opened the door, then remembered the bag that had contained his breakfast. He picked it up and handed it to Zeeb. “That was amazing.” What surprised Nate was how calm he managed to sound.
Zeeb beamed. “That Matt sure can cook.” He cocked his head. “You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.” Nate flushed. “I’ve never been up-close and personal with a horse before. And compared to me, they’re huge.”
Zeeb smiled, and Nate noted with relief that there was no sign he thought it weird or funny Nate and horses hadn’t mixed before.
“We’ll take it slow, okay? And no one’s gonna put you on a horse if you don’t wanna, all right?”
Nate breathed a little easier. The logical part of his brain already knew how things would be, but hearing the words again somehow reinforced the knowledge.
“Okay.” He smiled, even though his heart wasn’t fully in it. “Let’s go see these horses.”
Zeeb’s beaming smile told Nate he’d said the right thing.
The stable was warm, the scent of leather and fresh hay wrapping around them. Horses stirred in their stalls, a few poking their heads over the wooden doors to inspect the newcomers. Zeeb paused by the closest stall, where a chestnut mare stood quietly.
“This here is Lucy,” he said, giving the horse a gentle pat on the neck. “She’s a sweetheart. Good listener too.”
Nate hovered a few feet away, his posture stiff. “I don’t know much about horses,” he admitted, his voice soft enough that Zeeb had to lean in to hear.
“That’s okay,” Zeeb said easily. “You don’t need to know much to start. Just gotta be patient. They got a way of knowing what you need, even when you don’t.”
Nate didn’t respond, but his gaze softened as it lingered on Lucy. Zeeb caught the faintest trace of longing there, a need for connection buried under layers of wariness.
“You wanna say hi?” he offered, his voice quieter, more careful.
Nate hesitated, then stepped forward, his movements tentative as he reached out, the tips of his fingers brushing Lucy’s velvety nose. The horse huffed a warm breath against his hand, and something in Nate’s posture eased just a little.
Zeeb stayed quiet, letting the moment stretch. He knew better than to push. Nate was like a spooked colt—one wrong move, and he’d bolt. Still, there was something about the way Nate stood there, looking so lost, that made Zeeb want to stick around, to figure out the story behind those guarded eyes.
“She likes you,” Zeeb said in a soft voice, watching as Nate ran a hand down Lucy’s flank.
Nate huffed a bitter laugh. “Guess that makes one of us.”
Zeeb frowned but didn’t press. Whatever weight Nate carried, it wasn’t something that would lift anytime soon. But Zeeb wasn’t the kind to scare off at the first sign of trouble. If there was more to Nate Caldwell than his sharp edges and closed-off stares, Zeeb was curious enough to find out.
“Well, lucky for you, Lucy’s a good judge of character.” Zeeb flashed a grin. “And me? I don’t scare easy.”
