Change of Hart (Wells Ranch, #3)(103)
She nods, and I grab her hand to lead her toward the horses. As steady and sure as she was while kissing me, she’s noticeably shaken now. It’s not that I thought she was exaggerating when she said she was scared—Blair wouldn’t ask for help unless she felt backed into a corner in some way. Which means she was fucking terrified. And it’s scrawled across the panic in her rich brown eyes, the slow worrying of her bottom lip, and the anger etched between her brows.
Every horse person has been where she is before. It’s easy to say you fall off and get right back on again, but a bad moment can plant seeds of doubt, and eventually the deeply rooted fear can become debilitating.
I squeeze her hand to remind her I’m here, and I’ve got her. “Let’s ride double just until we get out of this clearing. On my actual horse this time.”
“Well—” She looks over at me tentatively, and I smile back. “Okay.”
We both know she doesn’t need any help getting on a horse, but that doesn’t stop my hands from finding her waist and boosting her into the saddle. Once she’s settled, I slip a foot in the stirrup and hop up behind her.
Holding one hand around her and the other leading the buckskin she rode in on, I ask, “You okay?”
Blair’s heart is racing, the hand resting over mine clammy. And naturally, she insists she’s fine. I’m not buying it for a second. Never have. I don’t understand why she still does this, when it’s so obvious I know her better than she knows herself.
“Bear, I love you. You can tell me if you’re not okay.” I kiss her shoulder, hoping she feels the warmth through the fabric. “Five seconds of—”
“I’m a little nervous. Only because it’s been fourteen years, and the horse was getting spooked, and he’s not even your horse, anyway.”
“One spring a couple years back, we were out here driving cattle. The season had been really warm and dry already, and there was a fucking snake on the trail. Well, my mare reared up before I even realized what the hell was happening, and down I went.” I hold tighter around her waist, rejoicing in the slow melting of her tense muscles. “Physically, I was fine. But for some reason I was fucking terrified to get back on. It felt stupid, considering I spend my weekends getting bucked off horses for fun, but it was different somehow.”
“You weren’t prepared for it,” she offers up, glancing over her shoulder.
“Maybe.” I shrug. “Either way, it took a few days before my confidence returned. And that trail probably spooked me even more than it spooked my damn horse for months afterward. It’s okay to be scared, baby. We’ll get you back running barrels before you know it.”
For a minute or so, she’s quiet and contemplative. Her back against my chest, head resting on my collar. Her breathing becomes easier with each step, and she reaches back to stroke my cheek. “I can’t believe I found you.”
My eyes narrow on hers. “Are you sure you didn’t get thrown off and you just don’t remember because you smacked your head? I think you meant I found you.”
“If that happened, I wouldn’t remember because I smacked my head. I meant I can’t believe I came back to Wells Canyon and you were still here. That I found you, and you still love me. You didn’t meet somebody else you wanted to marry, have babies with, and do all the things you wanted.”
“I never wanted those things with anyone but you.” It’s a slow ride across the golden field, with Blair shivering in my arms.
“D-do you want those things still?” she asks after a long period of silence. “A wife and babies?”
“I want whatever you want.”
“No, give me five seconds of honesty.” Her hand moves to rest on my thigh. “Tell me what you want.”
“You. I want you, Blair. If you’re the bride, I want to get married. If you’re the mother, I want kids.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “What happened back then was a downpour. There was this constant, agonizing, crushing weight on my chest that I couldn’t shake—believe me, I tried. I woke up every morning feeling that way for fourteen years. But you walked back in bringing all the sunlight with you. You didn’t notice how much brighter my life’s been since the ambulance ride, because you weren’t here during the dark days. So I want you. I want your sunlight and your love—whatever comes with that. Understood?”
I feel her head nod slightly against my shoulder. “I came back here after getting the worst news imaginable, and despite the grief of it all, I’m the happiest I’ve been in years. I get it. My life’s been brighter since the ambulance ride, too.”
“I can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together,” I say before pressing a kiss to her temple, just as we skirt around some tall brush, and we’re home free. I’d love to ride the rest of the way home with her safely tucked against my chest, but I’m afraid it’ll only make things that much harder when I want to get her on a horse again. “You feel ready to ride by yourself?”
There’s immediate rigidity where a second ago she was loose and free.
I add, “I’ll give you this horse. I promise she’s as bombproof as they come. And I’ll be right next to you.”
With a hefty exhale, she agrees. And seconds later, I’m mounted on Sandy, or whatever the fuck his name actually is. I look over at Blair, gauging her reaction. Definitely tense, but she’s still breathing—albeit each breath seems calculated.