With You
WE DON’T PUSH it this time. It’s Ruin’s first stroll with a human on his back—barring saddleless one-off emergencies—plus I don’t have my helmet, so we keep it down to a couple of laps around the pen.
Which is fine by me. Not even lunch time yet, but between this and mucking and grooming since early morning, the day’s already beaten the shit out of me.
When I slide off Ruin’s back, my legs are numb. It’s common in field boots, but out of competition, I just wear paddocks and half chaps, so the sensation is misplaced. For sure, I’ve been straining more than was warranted.
I keep my hands on Ruin, patting his shoulder and scratching his neck. But I don’t say anything. It’s hard to find the words when he gave me his everything there. And for right now, his everything is just letting me on, but I’m grateful regardless. Humbled too.
This tornado could’ve thrown me into a different continent. But instead, he slowed down for me, walked for me, like it mattered to him that I didn’t get mangled inside his spin.
“You good?” Eli asks, stepping closer.
“Yeah,” I say, but my voice is rough. “Yeah, it’s just… That was… ”
“Yeah,” he finishes, like no words were needed for him to get it. I wonder if he feels this way too, if after all this time and all the horses, he still gets swept away by this muted exhilaration. I’d never get anything done if this was my day-to-day.
There’s something ethereal in the air as we return to Ruin’s stall. As if for a moment, we got to peek into fucking Valhalla, and now we’re back to being dull little mortals. How else could I begin to describe it?
It’s one of those moments that make memories, but not a remember when type.
A lifetime marker, with a pre and a post.
On the way, I glance at Eli too many times.
Each time, he either catches me doing it or is already looking himself so I catch him instead.
And I feel he wants to say something, but every time our eyes meet, he just smiles.
That tiny little one I usually wish he’d knock off his face because it’s so cute, but I don’t have that kind of energy right now. Just for today, I’ll roll with it.
And I smile too. Don’t think I’ve stopped yet.
Wonder if we could have lunch together. Homemade pizza day is my cheat day.
Sunlight drips through the barn’s high windows as we enter, coating Ruin’s cool obsidian fur with specks of antique gold and bronze. A layer of armor, but not the kind you take to war. The kind you’re buried with, something sacred to protect you in the afterlife.
When we reach the stall, Eli holds the door open while I lead Ruin in. I unbuckle the girth, slide the saddle off. It’s becoming a ritual, so I take my time, smooth and steady, riding the comfort.
Then, so quiet I almost miss it, Eli says, “You have a nice smile.”
My eyes dart to him. My heart sucker-punches my ribs .
Immediately, his body jerks. He stands straighter and takes off his hat, clutching the brim with both hands. “I mean—” He clears his throat. “Y’know, in articles and press footage you rarely smile. So I just… Was just noticing that.”
Heat crawls up my neck. I look away, busying myself with slipping the saddle blanket off Ruin and giving it a few good shakes. “Because I’m not supposed to. Only after a win.”
His hands fall to his sides as I hoist the blanket over the stall’s half-wall. “You don’t smile…‘cause you ain’t supposed to?”
I nod, now slipping off Ruin’s halter. “You smile after a win to show your human side. Five seconds, three-quarters of a full lip stretch. In any other occasion, a large percentage of public opinion flags it as lack of focus.”
His voice is tiny. “Or…enjoyment?”
“Exactly. Neither’s on brand.”
He stays quiet after that, for so long I have to glance just to make sure he hasn’t left without me noticing. By the stall door—yeah, still here. But his eyes aren’t.
“What?” I ask.
Wherever he went in his mind, he has to drag himself out of it to look at me. And even that only lasts a second. “Nothing.” His hat gets back on his head, and he gathers the blanket under his arm, hefts the saddle over his shoulder. “I’ll put these away.”
With a final pat on Ruin’s neck, I take the lead and halter and follow him out of the stall, latching the door behind us. Down the corridor, we step into the tack room, a waft of leather and liniment immediately conditioning my shoulders to relax.
Eli sets the saddle on the hardwood work table in the center, stirrups clinking against the buckles, before draping the blanket in its holder.
I drop my gear too, swipe two washcloths from the clean basket, wet and wring them out at the farmhouse sink under the window—crack that top pane open too, just enough to get air moving.
I toss one cloth at Eli. He snags it mid-air and one-handed like the dreamboat showoff he is. While he gets started on the saddle, my stuff is easier, so in a minute, I have everything wiped down and set on the proper hooks.
I spot my phone on the small corner desk where I left it, charging next to three others.
I take it and disconnect the cable to check the time, already working out how to bring up lunch.
“Hey, let’s have lunch together” is way too date-y, so that’s a no.
“Wanna sit together at the cafeteria?” sounds like I’m passing a note in homeroom, trying not to blush.
Maybe I’ll just blurt out a “Race you to lunch” and sprint—see if he follows.
12:15. Perfect timing. Let’s do this.
Then I see the notifications.
Twelve missed calls. All from Mom.
“Fuck,” I whisper, stomach bottoming out.
Eli sets the saddle in its rack and steps over. “What’s wrong?”
I don’t answer, just hit redial. She picks up on the first ring.
“Finally.” Her voice is cheery and unhurried, so I’m already fucked. “Was getting worried you dropped dead somewhere and no one told me.”
“Sorry,” I let out automatically. “Was working with Ruin. What’s up?”
“What’s up,” she echoes, words and tone, “is that I’m at Riverlight. In reception. Come meet me.”
My spine shoots up. “You’re here? Right now?”
She sighs loudly. “Don’t make me repeat myself. I didn’t call ahead, so they refuse to let me in to meet you. Just come here.”
My mind is all over the place. I glance down and start patting my chest and hips, like I need physical proof I’m filthier than a hog. I need a shower, clean clothes—better clothes—polo and breeches, not t-shirt and jeans. So I tell her, “I’ll be there in twenty.”
“No, Cassian,” she barks. “Right now. I’ve been waiting an hour, and it’ll take a second. Whatever you need twenty minutes for, just do it after.”
She hangs up.
Yeah, I’m screwed.
“Everything okay?” Eli asks. I hate when he frowns like that, much less from concern over me.
“My mother’s here,” I say. What could she even want?
No, I can’t even find the headspace to worry about that.
I tuck my t-shirt in, dust my jeans. Try to smooth my hair, then abort the idea and toss my head down, tousle it, fling it up again.
Camera-ready is impossible, so this is as good as it’ll get.
“I need to go meet her,” I say, voice tight, slipping my phone into my back pocket. “She’s in reception.”
“Did we have an appointment?”
“No.” I start to rub my face but stop—for sure it’s already red and blotchy enough. “I don’t know what’s going on.”
“I’ll come with,” Eli says, circling the work table straight to the door.
“No, c’mon.” I get in his path, palm up, almost brushing his chest before I panic and snap it away. “That’s not necessary. I can handle Mom.”
Eli’s face doesn’t change, but his eyes harden. “I’m coming,” he repeats, bypassing me out of the room. “Let’s go.”
I close my eyes, take a deep breath. No… I don’t want angry Mom and gentle Eli together. And I definitely don’t want him to see me get my head chewed off. Talk about embarrassing.
He doesn’t wait, just glances back and slows his pace until I catch up. And I get it, even if I forget most times—Eli is the boss here. He built Riverlight from the ground up, and even if that’s all Rey ever told me, I think I know enough to understand.
He built it. From the ground up. Those big, calloused hands that trail all over my body in dreams; how many fences around Riverlight have they personally hammered into the dirt?
If I strip Riverlight of every high-tech security camera, of state-of-the-art vet equipment and engineered dirt, and everything else but its foundation…
It’s Eli.
The ground itself. The bedrock holding all of this into place, from which the best equestrian facility in the world was allowed to grow out of.
And you don’t get to that level by ignoring shit that doesn’t concern you. Everything in Riverlight concerns him.
Including mom-managers dropping in unannounced.
And even if he’s tagging along for the sake of Riverlight and not mine, just the fact that he’s with me shakes some weight off my shoulders.
There’s something so comforting in his presence.
In that sense, I’m just another horse, trusting the tough man with the soft hands, and building up strength from there.
In a few minutes, we reach the reception building, the first one I saw when my driver pulled up two months ago, this time from the inside.
Eli’s first to the door, so he opens it for me.
I thank him with a nod as I enter, beelining to where Mom surely is.
Same meeting room where old man Chuck went over ranch policy with me, first day.
The door is closed. My hand reaches for the knob before I’m ready. I pause, taking inventory as it hovers there.
Dirt-streaked jeans. Hair all over. For sure, my face is lobster-red, not even accounting for the stress. No concealer, no gel, nothing staged. And I feel stupid that I’m worrying over this, because Mom is one of the few people in the world who’s ever seen me before I’m ready to be seen .
“How bad is it?” I ask Eli, even though it’s obvious. I chuckle out of nerves. “Do I look… presentable?”