I glanced over at Ford. “You think this is how people are supposed to live?” I asked. “You know. All this sky, all this air. Seems excessive.”
He tipped his head back and let out a laugh. “Maybe. Or maybe we just spent too long in places where everything was artificial.”
I nodded. He didn’t have to explain. I’d seen what his version of “normal” looked like—expensive glass, expensive coffee,expensive noise. Even when he lived there, he’d always seemed restless, he’d admitted. Now, the restlessness was replaced with something else. Peace, maybe. Or the hope for it.
Ford watched the clouds for a while, then looked at me sideways. “You’re quiet,” he said. “What’s in your head?”
I shrugged. “Trying to figure out what’s next.”
He smiled, the kind of smile that said he’d been waiting for the question. “Next is whatever you want.”
It was corny, but he was right. For the first time, the idea didn’t terrify me.
We sat there, horses shifting beneath us, until the world went gold and everything softened at the edges. I thought about how much had changed since I’d gotten away from Jim. How I’d been afraid to stand out, afraid to ask for help, afraid that if I took up too much space, the universe would slap me back down. Now, I didn’t care if the universe noticed. I wanted it to.
“You know what the best part is?” I asked, more to Pebbles than anyone. “I get to decide what’s worth holding onto.”
Ford cocked his head. “And?”
“And today,” I said, “I decided to keep this.” I swept my arm around, catching the house, the dog, the sky, and, most of all, him.
He grinned. “I’ll try not to let you down.”
I looked at him, really looked, and realized he had no idea how much he already meant to me.
“You won’t,” I said. “Not ever.”
He seemed to believe me.
We turned the horses, heading back toward the house. The wind shifted, cool and sweet. I felt the warmth of the saddle, the flex of muscle under me, the steady thud of hooves on dirt. I felt alive, and for once, I wasn’t afraid of it.
On the way in, Jerry managed to find a dead vole and presented it to us, wagging so hard he nearly fell over. Forddismounted, took the vole, and praised the dog like he’d just brokered world peace.
“Good boy, Jerry,” Ford said, scratching behind his ears. “You’re a menace.”
“You want help getting down?” he asked, half-teasing as he threw the vole as far as possible.
I considered, then swung my leg over and slid off Pebbles, landing with a not-entirely-graceful thump.
“I’m fine,” I said, dusting off my jeans.
He watched me, proud in the dorkiest way possible. “Damn right you are.”
He led the horses back to the hitching post, me trailing behind, and then we stood together in the late sun, shoulders brushing. For a long time, neither of us said anything.
I reached up, letting my hand rest on his arm. “This is what happy looks like,” I said, surprised at how true it felt.
He looked at me like I’d just solved a riddle. “I’m just so happy you gave me a shot,” he said.
I leaned in, let my head rest against his chest. He smelled like hay and sweat and something sweet I couldn’t name. His arms wrapped around me, holding me close but never too tight.
I closed my eyes and let the light and sounds soak in. We stood there, just listening. The wind pressed the grass in waves, setting the white and yellow flowers bobbing. Bees did their thing. Far off, a crow barked at something that must have offended its delicate sensibilities. Our horses—now best friends, united by snacks—dropped their heads and started mowing down the nearest patch of clover.
Ford squeezed my hand, then let go and stepped in front of me, blocking the sun for a moment.
“I know you hate surprises,” he said.
“That depends,” I shot back. “Is this a dead vole or a surprise cake?”
