My mare doesn’t hesitate—just picks her way through the brush like she already knows where I’m headed. Like she’s tired of me lying to myself, too.
She heads down the trail I always avoid, it winds down toward the river and instinct has me following it today, the old paths etched into my bones like muscle memory. Like every other time we’ve reached this fork in the path, I haven’t gone this way in years. Not since Jake. Not since I stopped letting myself want the water.
But something’s changed. Or maybe—someone.
I hear it before I see it—the soft slap of water against stone, the faint splash echoing across the still air. And then she comes into view.
Mia.
Floating on her back in the river like she belongs there more than anywhere else in the damn world. Her arms move in lazy strokes, legs trailing behind like a mermaid. That little black swimsuit clings to her like it’s been painted on, glinting wet in the late afternoon sun.
My mouth dries out.
Fuck.
I don’t move. Hell, I don’t even breathe. I just watch.
Because this?Thisis the closest thing to peace I’ve seen in a long, long time. The way she’s lit up from the inside in her element, in a way that settlessomethingin me. The way the sun halos her dark hair in gold, and the water embraces her instead of taking her like it took Jake.
She moves like the river is her home.
I grip the reins tighter. My heart’s hammering against my ribs for reasons I don’t want to name just yet. This feelslike something sacred. And Iamthe praying kind. Quietly, stubbornly. And God has never felt more present than He does right now, in the way her hair floats around her face, in the light catching in her eyes, in the way she looks like she’s part of the river, not just passing through.
Her head lifts from the water, her eyes catching mine, before I can retreat.
She smiles, a slow and knowing quirk of her lips, and that smile ruins me.
She doesn’t speak—doesn’t have to. Everything I’m feeling roars through that single look. The current shifts. The silence grows thick, with tension, want, recognition. Something unspoken but heavy, hot between us.
Before I can overthink this, I nudge Midnight forward.
Midnight hesitates only slightly before stepping into the shallows. Smart animal. She senses it too—the trust in the water, in this moment. And maybe that’s the lesson I’ve been too damn stubborn to see.
Maybe it’s time to stop punishing myself.
Maybe it’s okay to want something again—someone.
This isn’t just about sex.
The mare steps into the river and we ride in slow, the water rising around my calves, then thighs. Midnight keeps a steady line straight for her—ears forward, sure-footed even where the current picks up. When we’re close enough that I can see the droplets clinging to Mia’s collarbone, the horse stops. I grip the reins tighter, pulse hammering in my ears.
Mia treads water, waiting, watching me like I’m a wild animal she doesn’t want to startle.
Mia’s so close I see the slow blink of her lashes. She tilts her head up and offers me her mouth like it’s the most natural thing in the world.I bent down to meet her, sliding my hand along the slick curve of her neck, my fingers sliding beneath her jaw, as I take her mouth.
God, I kiss her like it’s the last thing I’ll ever do. Her lips are wet, warm, and sweet on mine. Her tongue tangles with mine and I lose the thread of every coherent thought I’ve ever had.
The guilt? Gone.
Grief? A shadow fading downstream.
All that’s left isher—her heart racing under my palm, her lips moving with mine, her body buoyed by the water and by the crazy trust she puts in me.
Her lips are soft, tasting of river and heat and something sharp and wild that’s all Mia. The kiss deepens fast, my tongue sliding against hers, slow and desperate. Everything I’ve been holding in rushes out in that kiss. The craving I’ve tried to suppress.
I slide off Midnight’s back and into the water without breaking the contact with Mia’s mouth, one hand still on her jaw, the other trailing down her back to keep her close. She makes a noise low in her throat, that needy sound I swear I’ll chase to the ends of the earth, just to hear one more time. I release her mouth, just enough to gesture softly and the horse, like she’s read the mood, moves toward the riverbank on her own as if to sayI’ve brought you this far, cowboy; the rest is on you.
She’s one smart animal.
