Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
F or the next few days, Abe worked with the horses from sunup to sundown. It was the kind of bone-deep exhaustion he welcomed—honest work, no cameras, no expectations beyond patience and grit. Just him, the salt in the air, and two damn stubborn horses.
Stormy had, after the third day, taken to the saddle like she’d been waiting for it all her life.
She had a smooth gait, smart eyes, and a responsive nature that made riding her feel like a dance.
He found himself smiling more when he was out with her, letting the miles stretch behind them as they galloped along the dunes and into the edges of the pine trails.
Blaze was another story. The gelding fought the bit like it had personally offended him.
No wonder he’d been up for auction. Every ride was a tug-of-war with head tossing, feet stomping, and teeth flashing.
Abe had the bruises to prove it. Still, he saw the fire in the horse’s eyes, the kind that reminded him of himself when he’d first picked up a guitar with too much to say and no idea how to say it.
That morning, sweat dampened his shirt as he stepped out of the round pen, brushing a hand down Blaze’s neck while the horse huffed through his nose, then finally settling after he gave him a carrot. Abe led him back towards the paddock, letting the tension bleed from his muscles.
He didn’t hear her at first over the distant waves or the wind that was blowing steadily from the cliffs.
He smelled her soft perfume, springtime flowers, and turned.
She was there, walking up from the path that led to the beach, the sun catching on her loose hair, the breeze tugging at the edges of her pale blue shirt.
Dylan.
She stopped at the fence, one hand resting on the top rail like she’d always belonged there.
“I saw you out here,” she called. “Decided to come up and say hi.”
He blinked, surprised by how fast his heart jumped at the sight of her. “You walked up here just to say hi?”
“Sure, why not?” Her smile was easy. “I was jogging on the beach.” She motioned behind her. “Decided to take a detour.”
He noticed then that she was wearing jogging shorts, the kind that flowed with her movements and looked soft like her skin. The tank top she wore matched her eyes and hair perfectly.
“Convenient detour,” he teased, hitching Blaze’s reins over the fence rail and walking over to her. “You missed a great show. Blaze nearly bit my ear off this morning,” he said, wiping his hands on the towel slung over his shoulder.
Her eyes drifted towards the horse. “He looks like he’s still plotting.”
Abe laughed. “Oh, he is. I’m just winning for now.”
She looked back at him, her gaze softer than he expected. “You look… different out here.”
“Dirty?” he suggested.
She chuckled. “No. Relaxed. Like this is where you’re supposed to be.”
He leaned on the fence next to her. “Funny. I was just thinking the same thing about you. You look more relaxed than before. Settling back in?”
A flicker of something crossed her face—emotion, hesitation, maybe both—but she didn’t look away. Instead, she just shrugged slightly.
Deciding not to spook her, he asked, “You want to meet them properly?” He nodded at the horses.
She hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Sure.”
He opened the gate and held it for her and as she stepped through.
After a quick introduction, during which Stormy instantly nuzzled Dylan’s shoulder, he led Blaze into the barn.
Dylan followed behind with Stormy walking calmly beside her like they were already best friends.
Abe watched them out of the corner of his eye, noting how natural Dylan looked next to the horse.
Maybe not completely comfortable, but definitely not afraid.
“Just tie her there,” he said, motioning to the cross ties. “I’ll grab the brushes.”
She clipped Stormy in place while he moved through the tack room, grabbing two sets of brushes and a couple of cooling cloths. When he returned, he handed her one without a word and started working Blaze down, sweeping the brush in long, even strokes along the gelding’s sweaty coat.
They worked in quiet rhythm for a few moments, the sounds of the barn settling around them—horses shifting, birds chattering in the rafters, the distant crash of waves.
“You look like you’ve done this a time or two,” he said over his shoulder.
“My dad was the town vet, remember?”
“Right.” He smiled. “Did you have horses?”
“A Shetland pony and a few goats. We used to watch horses up at our place when needed. I remember having an old mare for an entire summer.” Her smile was fast and genuine. “You have horses, right?”
He nodded. “Four of them. No goats.” He smiled. “Yet.”
She chuckled. “These two seem stubborn.”
“I can do stubborn,” he joked.
“Are yours broken in?”
“They are now. It took me five weeks to break Marty.”
“I ran into an old friend yesterday,” she said after a long pause.
Abe glanced up. She wasn’t looking at him anymore, just focused on the brush as she worked over Stormy’s back.
“Oh?”
“She named her son after me,” she said, her voice soft. “I didn’t expect that.”
He leaned against Blaze, letting the gelding nibble at the salt block while he waited for her to go on.
“She asked me to grab some coffee.” Dylan stopped brushing for a moment, her hand resting on the mare’s side as her eyes watched dust motes floating in the sunlight. “I said no. Well… I didn’t really say no. I mumbled something stupid and ran away.”
Abe stayed quiet. Sometimes silence said more than words could.
She let out a long breath and picked up brushing again, slower this time. “I’m just not ready for that. For them. For… forgiveness, I guess. Or pretending like nothing happened back then.”
“What did happen?” he asked gently.
She finally looked at him. “She turned her back on me when I needed her. When everyone else did too. I had…” She lifted her shoulders slightly. “I had no one.”
His chest tightened at the vulnerability in her voice. She wasn’t angry. Not really. Just hurt. And maybe a little lost.
“She looked tired. Worn down. I thought seeing her like that would make me feel something. Vindicated. I don’t know.
But she looked so tired. She had her little girl strapped to her chest, her son on her hip.
She was pushing her groceries while her son, Dylan, hung onto her arms. And I felt…
” Dylan trailed off and shook her head as she looked down at her fingers again.
“Guilty. And sad. And angry. All at once.”
Abe stepped away from Blaze and moved beside her. Close enough to feel her energy shift. “That’s a lot to carry.”
She gave a hollow laugh. “Story of my life.”
“I think it’s okay to walk away,” he said. “And I think it’s okay if one day you walk back, too. It doesn’t have to be today or tomorrow, but maybe someday you’ll be ready. I bet it took a lot of courage for her to let you see her like that. A lot more to invite you to coffee.”
Dylan nodded slowly, the tension in her shoulders loosening as she looked at him again. Really looked. For the first time, Abe saw the walls drop. Just a little. But it was enough.
“Time doesn’t heal all wounds, that saying is way off.” He took her shoulders gently. “Letting things out, however you can, helps.”
She took a deep breath. “I suppose your music is your release.” She glanced back at the horses, not waiting for a response from him. “I used to spend a lot of time in barns with my dad. We’d talk.” She locked eyes with him. “Being here, brings it all back.”
He nodded, afraid that if he spoke, she’d close up again.
“I… didn’t meant to unload on you.” She rolled her shoulders, then surprised him by lifting up on her toes and brushing her lips across his. “Thanks for listening.”
He stilled. Unable to move. The kiss had been light, casual. Yet, somehow, it felt so… powerful. Like a tsunami had hit him square in the chest, knocking out his breath and turning his world topsy-turvy.
“Dylan.” His voice was low as he watched her still. Then he was pulling her close, covering her mouth with his. Her body melted into his instantly, her fingers slipping up to his hair, holding him tight.
In all of his years, he’d never felt anything so passionate. Whatever happened from this moment on, this mattered.
Then she stiffened in his hold and took a step back. She shook her head and chuckled nervously. “I didn’t mean to come here and blather all over you.”
“You didn’t,” he said, unsure of his own voice. He didn’t want to say anything that would make her leave now. So, instead, he asked her if she’d help feed the horses and then join him for dinner.
After a moment, she nodded and they quickly finished brushing down the horses and then fed them, scooping oats and tossing hay. She stayed by his side, listening when he spoke about Blaze’s progress and laughing when Stormy nuzzled her shoulder for treats.
As the sun started to dip lower over the Pacific, golden light streamed through the barn slats, soft and unhurried.
Abe watched her, something in her eyes shifting, opening.
This this was what he’d been hoping for.
She was finally letting him in.
They walked back to the house, and she sat in the kitchen, watching him and listening to him talk about his ranch, horses, and home while he cooked up some cast-iron-skillet fajitas, one of the few things he could make on a gas stove without screwing it up.
“I didn’t know you could cook,” she said, one brow raised, clearly impressed as she watched him slice peppers and onions like he actually knew what he was doing.
“Yeah, I don’t really mention it in interviews,” he joked.
“I can only make a handful of meals without burning down the kitchen.” He tossed the colorful strips into the hot pan, where they hissed on contact.
“I can handle the basics. You live on the road long enough, you either learn to cook or you live off beef jerky and diner pie. Road trip food can only satisfy you for so long.”