Anything
THE TRAILER DOOR drops with a heavy clank, and I rush up the ramp.
“Hey, big guy.” I smile. “Longest ride ever, huh?”
Ruin huffs, pawing softly at the ground. Yeah, no one likes being trapped in a metal box for this long, so he’s as relaxed as I’d expect, which isn’t all that much. But we’re done. For the next month, at least.
My smile keeps. I don’t expect it to fade anytime soon.
I untie his lead from the hook and massage under his jaw, just to let him know it’s all over.
Marcus peeks around the trailer wall from outside, steering clear of the ramp itself. “Need a hand with him?” he asks, eyeing Ruin’s massive frame with the wary respect of someone who’s hauled enough horses to know which ones spell trouble.
But he’s wrong this time. My demon beast is actually a soft little angel.
“Nah, we’re good,” I say, as Ruin backs out of the trailer like a perfect gentleman, one who’s eager to escape it and get his hooves back on some dirt, which I can relate to.
Trailers are still somewhat nerve-wracking—for both of us—but it just means we have to allot an extra few hours for getting him settled in, and for more stops during the haul. Nothing we can’t handle.
When we’re out, I adjust my duffel bag over my shoulder and shake hands with Marcus. “Thanks for the smooth ride.”
“Not a problem.” His hand flies from mine to the back of his neck. “Would it be okay if we took a picture? As I said, my daughter’s a fan. All three, actually.”
“Oh, for sure.” I tug softly on Ruin’s lead to get his attention as Marcus takes out his phone. He’s visibly not too comfortable this close to such a big horse, but he fakes it long enough for a selfie of the three of us.
Marcus beams, checking the photo. “This will make me the cool dad for once.”
I chuckle. “You seem pretty cool regardless. You can quote me on that.”
“Oh, I will now !” He beams even more. “Maybe one day I’ll bring them over for an Open Day. Family trip.”
“That’d be awesome.” I turn Ruin around, ready to go. “Check my event dates online, so I’m not away when you come. Or call the front desk here, they’ll tell you.”
“Will do. Have a good one.”
I wave and leave him with the trailer, leading Ruin through the drop zone gate.
No quarantine this time—I was there every step of the way, taking this trip with him instead of flying directly back exactly to make sure it’d be safe, no cross-contamination risk.
So now we’re free to go the long way around toward the main barn, stretch our legs a bit.
And God, this scent… From the forest to the dirt to the animals. Three months was too long. He feels it too, instant relaxation.
We have to stop once or twice for a hug or a pat on my back and Ruin’s shoulder, congratulating us for our achievements while we were gone.
Apparently, they put a TV up in the cafeteria and made it a whole series of get-togethers out of watching our rounds.
Eli had told me everyone watched us live, but I didn’t think he meant everyone in one place at the same time.
Not gonna lie, my throat tightens a bit just picturing it.
Eventually, we make it to the barn, and Ruin’s ears prick forward as we pass other horses in their stalls, including his still-empty old one. “Other dad got you a new home,” I inform him. “Right next to your BFF.”
As we approach it, AP’s head pops out over her door, nickering softly, ears flicking with interest. Ruin’s nostrils flare, recognizing her at the first sniff.
I pat her head and give her some scratches before steering him into the stall next door, now bearing a brass plate matching hers, etched with ‘Ruin’ in beautiful cursive letters.
My fingertips trace them on the cool metal. That man… Such a small thing, but so him.
Someone got the stall ready with fresh bedding and water, a hay net hung at precisely the height Eli knows he prefers.
I remove Ruin’s halter, giving his neck a final pat as he immediately dives into the hay like he hasn’t eaten in days, despite the constant stops Marcus made for him on the journey. Last one was only an hour ago.
“Drama queen,” I mutter, shaking my head softly. Then I step out, securing the stall door behind me and storing his tack away.
When I’m outside the barn again, I stop for a moment, squinting in the golden late afternoon light.
A new building? Yeah, sticking up from behind the deckhouse—taller, probably two stories.
Still very much bare-bones, from the look of it, a skeleton frame, but the foundations are there.
An ongoing work, with a stack of lumber nearby, which is something new to me but not to Riverlight, of course.
If it’s needed, someone makes it happen. Simple as that .
It’s good to see the place expanding, though. Like it’s alive, still growing.
The dream of a little boy who turned into a man and made it happen. Made it real.
My man.
God, I need my man. Where is he?
“Well, well, look what the horse trailer dragged in.”
Rey emerges from the corner of the barn, veterinary kit slung over her shoulder, mirrored sunglasses hiding her eyes, but I don’t need to see them to know they’re just an extension of the smirk on her lips.
“Missed me?” I grin, stepping over to meet her halfway.
“Like a bad case of thrush,” she retorts with an actual, realistic chuckle that tells me she actually did miss me. She punches my arm, and I softly kick her boot—best hug ever. “Welcome back, Fancy Pants,” she adds, already walking again. “He’s been insufferable, so please go take care of that.”
I snort, adjusting the duffel over my shoulder and walking backward toward the deckhouse, calling out a last, “If you insist.” She just raises a hand in a casual wave without turning back. Classic Riverlight prima donna.
Soon, I’m at the trellised archway, touching the new purple flowers weaving through it before strolling in through the courtyard.
I wanna hurry to find Eli, but being back here, nothing in me wants to move fast anymore, so I take my time, taking the winding gravel path instead of cutting through the grass.
Then up the deck, and down to the corner room.
Our room.
I press my thumb to the small scanner. The light flashes green, the lock clicks, and I step inside, knowing he’s not here, of course, at this time of the day.
With a grunt, I hoist my bag off me and drop it on the floor where I stand, already mentally prepared not to touch it again today, too tired and too sure that once I find Eli, I’ll be clinging to him like a koala and not let go until morning.
If all goes according to plan, I’ll be naked most of the time, anyway, so unpacking can wait.
And immediately, I do touch it again, but simply to put it out of the way, because right in front of the door is just a trip hazard waiting to happen. On the desk chair is better.
That’s when I see it—the wall above the small desk. These are… Wow, all of them. I step closer, my chest tightening, fingertips touching the colorful papers, tracing the messy crayon lines.
Kids’ drawings, dozens of them, taped up in neat rows. Letters too, handwritten.
The ones sent here. To me.
The ones Eli would show me whenever a new one arrived in the mail, during our daily video call.
The ones he’d slip out of the envelopes with such care as I watched, such sparkle in his eyes.
Reading each word with reverence, holding drawings up to the camera, then closer to show me any details he found cute.
“This one’s from Emma,” he’d say. “Her pony used to be scared of her, so she just sat next to him for two weeks, like you did with Ruin.” Or “Logan wants to know if Ruin likes carrots or apples better.”
Seeing them all together like this—a collage of wobbly horses and stick-figure riders and rainbow jumps—hits differently. Each one carefully preserved, each one given space. Like they matter. Like the kids who sent them matter.
And there, in the center, taking pride of place—Zane and Thunderbolt and Cassian Vale. The very first one, the one I tore up and that somehow… I sigh. Somehow, he found it. Somehow, he brought it back to me, fished it out of the trash and taped it whole again.
I missed him. So much. More than I have words for.
I need to find him. A quick shower to wash off the travel grime and then I’ll scour this place for him—no, I’ll call on the radio because this is in fact a ranch emergency.
Swiftly, I get myself to the bathroom, strip, and toss my clothes into the hamper’s general location without checking if they made it. The water heats quickly, steam billowing as I step under the spray with a grateful sigh.
The warmth seeps into my muscles, weeks of competition stress, plus a long flight and an even longer drive, melting down the drain. I close my eyes, letting the water, too, tell me I’m home.
I’m not, though. Not completely, not yet. Not without him.
Just for a few more minutes.
Then BANG!
The bathroom door slams open against the wall. I jump, heart punching my ribs. Eli stands in the doorway, chest heaving like he’s been running, eyes wild, fixed on me through the steamy glass of the shower door.
And I grin, heart still hammering but for an entirely different reason. “Hey, baby.”
He doesn’t answer. Just strides across the bathroom in two steps, yanks the shower door open, and steps in—fully clothed, boots and hat and all—to crush me against the tile wall with all the force of these three months.
I laugh, the sound bubbling up and out of me as his mouth finds mine.
His clothes are soaked instantly, water plastering his t-shirt to the planes of his back, his jeans growing rough and heavy as they cling to his legs.
I kiss him back, hands sliding into his wet hair and sending the hat flying somewhere, pulling him closer.