I glance up at him, and my curiosity gets the best of me. “Is that how it feels for you?”
His jaw tenses for a second before he answers. “Sometimes.” His eyes stay fixed on the barn ahead, but I see the trace of something deeper behind his expression. “Being estranged frommy father for years before his death didn’t negate the memories. I still thought about him all the time—even now. Taking the job at Saint Helena a few years ago… I wanted to escape who I used to be. But there are days when I wonder if I’m just circling back to it, no matter how far I try to run.”
We slow as we reach the barn doors, and I turn to face him fully, reaching out to brush my fingertips lightly against his arm.
“It’s okay to change,” I say gently. “You’ve always been the kind of man who carries the weight of the people you love. Your brothers, for example. Your students, and the rest of the staff at Saint Helena. It means you care, Kai.”
His eyes meet mine, and for a long moment, he just looks at me, like he’s searching for something in my face that he isn’t sure he’ll find.
“Maybe,” he murmurs. But then his lips curve into the faintest smile, and the tension in his shoulders eases. “I think I’d like to see your home someday,” he adds quietly. “The village, the lights at Christmas… all of it.”
“Have you ever been to England?”
“Twice,” Kai answers, smiling down at me. “But only London.”
I huff a laugh. “London is fun. But one day, I’d love to take you to get you a proper chippy.”
“A what?” Kai asks, grinning now.
God, his smile is addicting.
“You lot call it fish and chips.”
“Ah, but chippy is so much cuter when you say it.”
I cackle as warmth spreads through me at the thought. The idea of Kai standing in the middle of my childhood village, snow falling around him, feels like something I never realized I wanted until now.
“I’d like that too,” I admit. His fingers brush against mine, a fleeting touch, but it lingers long after we continue walking.
We’re both quiet the rest of the two-minute walk to the barn. Once we get there, I open the door, and Snickers neighs loudly, her voice echoing in the stillness.
“She’s loud,” Kai comments, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
“She’s lonely,” I admit, running my hand over her mane. Guilt prickles at me as I say it out loud. Horses don’t live alone. They need companions, just like we do.
I glance at Kai and shrug, trying to keep my tone light. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way. When I brought her here, there was another horse. Ace.” I pause, my chest tightening. “But he passed away not long after we got here. Colic.”
Kai’s expression softens. “That’s rough. For both of you.”
“It was,” I say quietly, my fingers stroking Snickers’s neck. “She’s adjusted better than I have, honestly. I’ve been meaning to get her a friend—she deserves that—but I’ve been waiting for the right time. Or maybe I’ve just been putting it off because I feel like I failed her.”
Kai’s hand brushes mine, grounding me. “You haven’t failed her. You’re here. You’re taking care of her. That’s what matters.”
“Thank you.” Snickers neighs again, and I laugh. “She knows I have treats,” I say, stepping into the barn.
Snickers—a beautiful Holsteiner—leans her head over the stall door. Her big, brown eyes are bright with anticipation.
“Beautiful,” Kai says, reaching a careful hand out to pet her. Snickers huffs against his hand, but she’s gentle—and she accepts him immediately by rubbing her face against his open palm.
“She likes you,” I tell him, hanging on the barn door and smiling.
“How long have you had her?” Kai asks, smiling as Snickers continues to rub against him.
“I picked her out in Germany when I was twelve. My father wanted me to get something fancier, like an Arabian, but Snickers reminds me of a unicorn with her white coat.”
Kai goes still. “A unicorn?”
I laugh. “It’s silly.”
