How could I not trust him? He held my entire heart in that moment.
One graceful tug and I was up. Then half on, half falling until he steadied me, his laugh quiet, his warm breath against my neck as I moved into position in front of him.
“Easy,” he whispered, his breath tickling the sensitive spot just below my ear.
The horse was taller than I’d expected. His muscles shifted beneath me, solid and powerful all at once. We didn’t use a saddle. Just Bennett and me.
I gripped Bennett’s arms. “I change my mind,” I muttered.
“You want off?”
I shook my head. I didn’t want off because I wanted to know what he had planned, what was in the backpack he’d taken from the back of his truck that was now slung across his back.
One arm slipped around my waist. The other braced us both. “I’ve got you.”
We moved slow. Cedar stepped carefully as we headed toward a worn trail in the grass. Every sway of Cedar’s body rocked through me. I couldn’t tell if my heart raced from the movement or the nearness of feeling every inch of Bennett pressed behind me. The way he leaned in close. The way his chest rose and fell along my back, the heat of his hand at my waist, the soft circle of his thumb that traced tiny infinity symbols where his hand held me.
The sky faded from gold to bruised violet. It was the most beautiful view I’d ever seen. And somehow, the image still hasn’t left me all these years later.
Bennett’s voice calmed me the entire ride, telling me what to expect with each shift and turn. What Cedar might do. What it meant when his gait changed.
We reached a clearing on top of a hill near the creek.
He helped me down, and although the ride wasn’t as scary as I’d expected, I was glad to have both feet back on solid ground. He walked Cedar to a nearby tree and secured him, leaving enough slack for the horse to graze.
I wandered to the edge of the hill and sat down, tucking my knees to my chest, watching the last of the sunlight streak across the sky. Bennett came up behind me, his long legs bracketing mine as he sat, and I leaned into the warmth of his body and his strong touch.
I heard the click of a lighter, and Bennett placed a cupcake in front of me, candle lit and glowing.
“Happy birthday,” he whispered.
“B!” I turned, heart aching in the best way.
“Make a wish.” Again, he held the purple frosted cupcake in front of me. “And don’t waste it on me, because I’m already yours.”
I giggled as I always did at his humor, and he urged the cupcake closer to me.
I closed my eyes tightly and made a wish that I’d always have Bennett. I’d heard what he had said, and I believed he was mine, but I wasn’t naive. We were seventeen and in love, with our futures wide open in front of us. He had dreams of going to college, and I was still unsure where my path would lead after high school.
He placed the cupcake back in the box beside another one and pulled me into his arms. He laid back, and I curled onto his chest.
His hand tucked a strand of my hair that had fallen down during the ride behind my ear. “I love you, Laney.”
“I know.”
And I did. Maybe that was part of it. I never questioned whether he did. Even before he said the words, I felt it, deep down.
Bennett taught me that real love isn’t just about butterflies or fireworks. It’s about being someone’s cheerleader and letting them choose whether to take the leap—but always being there to hold their hand if they do.
And that’s probably why I fell for him. Because that night, and every night after it, he made me feel safe and seen. He was always the calm during a storm for me.
* * *
Delaney
Chapter Nine
Bennett
