Beautiful Collide (Saints Of Redville #3)

Chapter 77

77

Hudson

As cliché as it sounds, there really is no fucking place like home.

I love being here.

Whenever I’m in Redville, I get lost in the frenzy of my life, and it’s easy to forget this place.

This feeling.

My life is always so crazy that I can barely remember my own name, let alone anything else.

But the moment I walk back onto this property, the feeling of comfort that only this place can bring comes rushing back.

That’s one of the reasons I want to help my parents so badly.

Sure, it’s because I know that they need help, but a part of me, a bigger part than I want to admit, wants to help for selfish reasons.

Knowing that no matter how crazy my life gets, I’ll always have the farm, has me desperate to help.

This place is such a huge part of my life. I don’t want them to lose it. Why do they have to be so stubborn?

I’m practically begging them to take my money, but . . . no . They won’t have it.

It’s frustrating as all fuck.

I close my eyes and inhale deeply.

The smell of the barn hits my nostrils. To be specific, it’s the fragrance of hay. This place always grounds me and reminds me how simple life can be.

Sure, I love being on the ice, and the rush of skating, but the farm brings a level of calm I can’t get anywhere else.

But today isn’t about me. It’s about Molly.

And trying to help her see there is more to life than being afraid.

Behind me, I hear her boots crunching against the dirt.

She’s almost to where I’m standing beside Gracie, our gentlest horse. Which makes her perfect for the task at hand.

She’s steady and calm and exactly what Molly needs right now.

Shit, I just hope this goes well.

It should, though.

After the way she opened on the ice, I have a feeling like this will be the same.

There is also an ulterior motive for wanting her to do this.

I want her to love the farm.

I want her to see that she belongs here, even if she doesn’t realize it yet.

“This is Gracie.” I run my hand over the horse’s smooth coat.

Gracie leans into my touch. “She’s the best. And even better, she’s perfect for you.”

Molly stops a few feet away, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. Her fingers grip her jacket.

She’s hesitant.

She’s nervous.

Of course, she is.

Don’t push her, Hudson.

She’s not sold.

That’s fine. She will be soon.

Gracie is a large horse, so I can understand being unsure, but she’s by far the gentlest horse I’ve ever known.

“I don’t know about this,” she admits.

I move closer to her. “You don’t have to ride her.” I keep my tone easy. “We can just hang out here. We can just feed her carrots.”

Telling her this is a calculated move. I know she will ride her, but I also know she needs to know she has a way out. Just in case.

This will give her the control she craves.

Molly shifts her weight, glancing back at Gracie.

I think she’s going to say forget it. Which is fine.

But then she squares her shoulders and straightens her spine, and I know she’s ready. Good girl. Be as strong as I know you can be.

I keep my exterior expressionless. I don’t want to piss her off. That won’t bode well for my plan. Molly is liable to say “fuck it” and leave if I do that.

“Fine, I’ll at least feed her.” Her voice is still quiet, but her determination is peeking out.

I can’t help but smile.

There it is.

That spark.

She’s amazing, and the crazy part is she doesn’t see it.

She will.

I’ll make her.

“All right,” I say, keeping my tone warm. “Let’s take it slow.”

I grab a carrot from the nearby bucket and hold it out to her. “Hold it flat in your palm like this,” I say, demonstrating.

Her fingers brush mine as she takes the carrot, and for a second, that tiny touch sends a flicker of warmth through me.

Focus, man. This is about her, not you.

When she mimics my gesture, I guide her hand toward Gracie’s mouth.

Gracie takes the carrot gently from Molly’s palm. Thank fuck too. One never knows how Gracie will react if she’s hungry. While she would never hurt anyone, she gets pretty excited to eat. She’s liable to snatch the carrot the way a hungry child might grab a candy bar at a chocolate shop.

“See? She likes you,” I tell her.

“Well, I don’t know if I like her yet,” Molly mutters. “Not enough to ride her.”

I narrow my eyes and tilt my head down. “Hex . . .”

“Saying my nickname won’t get me on the horse any faster.” She presses her lips into a thin line. She’s not pissed, though, just pretending to be.

That’s the Hex I know.

“Gracie,” I correct.

“What?”

“The horse has a name. It’s Gracie.”

Molly rolls her eyes. “Have I ever mentioned you’re insufferable?”

“Only every day since we’ve met.”

“Well, you are.”

“Enough stalling.”

She crosses her arms at her chest. Defiant as always. “I’m not stalling.”

“Sure you are.”

“You ever think maybe I have no interest in riding a horse?”

“No.”

“Wow.”

“I think you’re scared. And that’s okay, but I’m here to tell you—you have no reason to be scared. Fear is just a lie we tell ourselves until we find the courage to rewrite the story.

“Now that we have that settled, let’s start with getting you on her back, and we’ll go from there,” I say, grabbing the mounting block and setting it beside Gracie. I turn to her, extending my hand. “Come here.”

She hesitates, staring at my hand and then at Gracie.

Molly trembles slightly, but she still places her hand in mine.

She trusts me.

Don’t screw this up.

I’m not sure why she’s the way she is or what causes her panic, but I can tell that this moment is important.

For her.

For me.

“All right,” I say, positioning myself beside her. My hands move to her waist, steady and deliberate. “I’ll lift you. Just hold on to the saddle.”

Before she can second-guess herself, I lift her, settling her onto Gracie’s back.

She grabs the saddle horn tightly; her knuckles are so white I’m almost afraid she’ll break something.

“Relax.” I keep one hand on her leg. “I’ve got you.”

She takes a shaky breath, and I see her grip loosen just a little.

“Perfect. You’re doing amazing. Much better than I did my first time.”

She looks at me over her shoulder, her brows furrowed. She clearly doesn’t believe me. I’m not lying. It’s true. “Please. You expect me to believe that?”

“Yep.” I grin. “Believe it or not, the first time I got on a horse, I fell off . . . twice.”

That earns me a reluctant smile, and something in my chest eases.

There it is.

A real smile.

“Okay,” she says, her voice quieter now but steadier. “What’s next?”

I grin. I love seeing her like this. “Next, we take a little walk. You ready?”

She nods, her hands tightening again.

As I lead Gracie out, I hold Molly tight. “Now close your eyes.”

“What?” Her voice is full of shock.

I move my head so my lips are at her ear.

“Trust me, Molly. Believe I’ll never let anything hurt you.”

As her muscles loosen, I can feel that she is giving me her trust.

The feeling is unlike anything I have ever felt before.