24. Silas
I step outside to take Harvey’s call—which should be any minute.
Morning’s barely hanging on and the air is cool, shifting into that familiar mid-fall chill.
I don’t typically take the time to notice the weather shifts when I’m home in Denver.
Here, I’ve got nothing but time to notice things like that.
Everything—including my recovery—just moves at its own pace.
One I have no control over.
The gravel crunches under my boots as I walk along the fence line, toward the stables, the barns—basically anywhere they keep the horses and I’m likely to catch a glimpse of her.
Though I’ve been thinking of making the smaller barn my temporary workout station given the cold weather coming and . . . well, we already know the resistance bands work well in the space.
Might be hard to focus though.
I’m starting to think I crossed a line earlier this week in that barn. But there’s no mistaking the way Storm watched me with those bands. The way she implied no one could get her off the way a cowgirl needs to be.
I didn’t go in there to have a taste of her—hell, I’m not sure what I wanted—but when her curiosity and willingness was clear, there was no stopping me.
It’s been hell keeping my distance the past few days. Kept cursing myself for making the stupid promise.
But the effort was there. And I’ve done it long enough.
Besides. I just need a glimpse of her. That should be enough.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I slow my steps to answer. Harvey said he’d call Saturday morning when he had an update . . . and I’ve got one for him too.
“I’ll give you my news after you give me yours,” he starts. “How’s rehab going?”
“I prefer to call it physical therapy. Rehab makes it sound like I broke a leg or something.”
“Thorne, you want my news or not?”
“It’s good. Real good. Range is back. Strength is . . . getting there. I ditched the sling this week.”
“And the shoulder?”
“Stable. Arm feels . . . normal again.” For the most part.
“That your call or this Jenny you found out in the country?”
“Both,” I tell him. “Says if my progress keeps up, she’ll be ready to clear me for the ice in two weeks.”
He grumbles. “Here’s the thing, League’s not gonna just take your girl’s word for it. They’ll want you checked in-house. Doctors, strength tests . . . images.”
“You’re saying it like I’d bullshit you.”
“You’re not my first injured player, Silas.”
“I’ll be ready for any evaluation,” I say absently, watching a horse jump a low fence, and I immediately look for her nearby.
I spot Storm on the other side of the training ring, waving the horse back.
I missed his response but follow with the only thing I need to know. “When can I get on the ice?”
“Just get your ass back to the arena the second she clears you. Logistics move fast after that. Physicals and tests first, then monitored skate. Light. No contact.”
Then what the fuck’s the point?
“Figured as much.”
“The real test is going to be the stress test. Tire you out and test your reaction time.”
“Right . . .” Her hair is in a loose ponytail over one shoulder today. And she’s back in those tight jeans again. Though I much prefer her in that suede skirt. She’s fucking badass no matter what she wears.
“You still with me, Thorne?”
Hmm?
I clear my throat. “Yeah.”
“Bottom line. Don’t come back until you’re ready for all that. I’d rather you take an extra week or two instead of them keeping you out for the season.”
My stomach drops at the thought. Extra week it is.
Though I could think of other ways to test my arm’s strength. Storm beneath me . . . Holding her up against a wall.
“I’ll keep you posted after next week’s session with Jenny.”
Storm catches her horse, praising her. I know it’s a female horse because I recognize her.
She’s been at Blue River a while. Starr or Skye, maybe?
I guess it doesn’t matter. It’s Storm’s reaction to her that does.
She cares about this one. It reminds me of how Mom cared for our horses.
Can’t remember if she had a favorite. They were all her friends.
Watching her now stirs something in me. The only thing I didn’t bury when I left here.
Memories. Memories of riding. Of Tucker shifting excitedly when I stepped into the barn. Least that’s what Mom would say when Tucker shuffled restlessly, ears pricking.
Makes me wonder what she’d say now.
Storm catches my eyes and something flashes in hers that makes my stomach flip. There’s a subtle unguarded shift in the way she watches me.
One I swear I hadn’t seen in over a decade.
It’s cool in the stables in the late afternoon, the air heavy with hay and leather. I move down the aisle slowly, boots louder than my everyday sneakers.
But I wore them for a reason.
I used to think staying away from this place meant I’d moved on. Built something new that’s just for me. Now I wonder if it was just avoidance. Avoiding this place. The memories. The version of me that existed before everything changed. Before the place got quiet. Before the light went out of it.
Tucker lifts his head when I reach his stall.
It stings more now somehow. Now that I want him to remember me. Maybe a selfish part that wishes he understood why I don’t ride him anymore. Maybe he does. I’m not the only one who stopped coming around after Mom died.
“Hey, Tuck,” I murmur low, almost hopeful.
“Me, again.” My horse blinks, shifts his weight, unimpressed.
I huff a laugh. “Cut me some slack. I just went through all this with another old friend. And let me tell you, I’ve got a lot more patience for her.
Smells better too.” I run my hand over his nose and he leans into my touch.
“It’s been a long time,” I say like I’m making small talk.
Or maybe I’m just pointing out what he already knows.
Mom used to say horses remember everything.
Starting to think people do too. Just might be better at pretending we don’t.
Though this one’s pretty good at playing the Who are you?
card. I roll my right shoulder back, then stretch my arm a few times, feeling for pain.
It’s only awareness. A slight pull. Still, nowhere near ready for what Harvey says will be in store for me. Like I didn’t already know.
The dull ache is almost enough to reconsider.
But the urge to swing onto a saddle, grip the reins, and see if muscle memory kicks in, is stronger.
“What do you say?” I ask quietly. “Think I could saddle you right and take you out? Nothing fancy, just a walk, so don’t get any ideas. Then maybe if we both play our cards right, we could . . . try this thing again.” I chuckle, but doubt Tuck finds any of this funny.
Opening his stall, I lead him into the aisle, the routine coming back in pieces. Starting with the halter, I slide it over his muzzle, positioning the noseband and fastening the crown behind his ears. Tuck bends slightly for me, then lifts.
“See, I’ve got this.”
I reach for the pad next, bringing it over him and smoothing it flat a few times. All the while his nose following me like I’m forgetting a step.
And there’s no doubt I will—as I continue with the saddle, doing most of the prep work with my left hand and using my right to tighten and secure. My arm tightens when I pull the cinch through, and I release a sharp exhale.
Tuck shifts instantly, head turning.
“All good,” I breathe, palm flattening against his side. “I’m all good.” Another chuckle. “What do you say next time, we go bareback?”
Tuck snorts and turns back.
I walk around him to see if I’d missed anything. The stable door opens straight ahead, light spilling in along with her presence. Her eyes catch the saddled horse first, then land on mine.
“Thought I saw you come in here,” she breathes like she’s been running. But she wasn’t far when I came in.
“What took you so long?” I cock a smirk. “Not like you saw me come in here with any more restraints.”
She stalks forward like that wasn’t funny and now I know I pushed my boundaries with her the other day.
Gripping my shirt, she pins me against my steady, unfazed horse and kisses me. It’s deep, still, possessive, and hard before she releases a relieved moan and steps back.
“Storm—”
A sharp slap lands across my jaw. Not hard enough to knock my head back, but enough to leave a ringing in my ears. The sting heats along my cheek. Tuck shifts behind me, abandoning me to give her more room to attack if she needs to.
I lift a hand to my temple like I might be losing my mind. “Okay. Walk me through that. Starting with the kiss.”
“You are a world class jerk. A coward.” She flips an arm out to Tucker. “And there’s like a thousand things wrong with what you did here.”
“Calm down, I’ll fix it.” Even if I know this has nothing to do with saddling my old horse.
A growl escapes her throat and she kisses me again. This time I catch her waist and hold her, kissing her back but when she starts fighting me, I let her go, grabbing hold of just her wrists. “Storm, look at me.”
She shakes her head and her voice cracks. “I’m so angry.”
“Why?”
She stills and looks into my eyes. “I went to see my dad. I told him about you. Asked him about that night.”
I release my grip, lowering my gaze. “Storm, I’m sorry.”
“Why did you do it? You were the black sheep, you don’t follow the herd, you make your own rules. Why would you choose to let me go?”
“We were kids, Storm. Yes, when it came to me—I took every risk, threw away the rule book, but with you, I wasn’t taking any chances. I was too afraid that my screw-ups would only take you along for the ride and you had so much more going for you.”
She shakes her head, glancing past the open doors. “Yeah. Guess it wasn’t meant to be.”
“Maybe not then.” Risking injury to another limb, I reach for her, lifting her face to mine. “But no one’s going to keep me from you now.”
Tear-filled eyes search mine like she’s considering our obstacles. Like she needs them. She blinks them away expertly, in a way that makes me wonder how long she’s been doing that.
“You can be angry at me, Storm, but don’t be angry at him. He was protecting you.”
“And I suppose you think it’s your job to protect me now?”
There’s a bite in her tone and I’m picking up on something else she’s pissed about.
“It’s not my job, but it’s what I’m going to do—with or without your permission, Bee.”
She scoffs, stepping back. “Is that why you settled Dad’s bill at the care facility?”
My jaw works. “So much for anonymous,” I mutter.
“They didn’t have to tell me for me to know it was you, Silas,” she snaps.
I fold my arms, watching her, since there’s nothing she can do about it now and I’m not sorry. “How about you pay me back with a riding lesson?”
She purses her lips. “Just one? Or fifty thousand?”
I grin. “Better start with one. I’m accident prone.”
She folds her arms, shifting away from me stubbornly. “Hasn’t your pretty face suffered enough today?”
I rub my jaw. “It’s not suffering if you’re on the other side of it.”
She smirks, moving around me to the horse. “All right. But he can’t be saddled.”
“Why not?”
“Because we can’t fit. It’ll have to be bareback. With me behind you. It’s risky, but better than both of us over a saddle. And not for too long. It’s a lot of stress on the horse. Once you’re steady, got a good grip on the reins, I’ll hop off.”
Why is this turning me on?
I push my hands into my pockets. “No. Unless I get behind you.”
She sighs. “Cute, but there’s nothing sexual about this. I’m no good against your front.”
“That’s debatable, but I’m not being quirky either. Tucker can shift or jump, or the weight might be too much—if that happens, you’ll slide right off on a bare back.” I don’t think I’ve ever taken a more serious tone with her before.
And judging by her grin, she doesn’t mind it. “Impressive, hotshot.”
I shrug. “Like I said, when it comes to you, I don’t take risks.”
Her eyes lower and she nods. “All right then, I’ll teach you to saddle Tuck correctly, test your balance, your arm strength and . . . walk beside you. But that might cramp your style.”
“I’m not worried about it,” I assure her. “Although your back pressed against me did sound fun.” I perk a brow. “And your front.”
She rolls her eyes. “Maybe another time.”
I step back into her space, pressing her against Tucker gently—of course this he doesn’t seem to mind one bit, the traitor.
I cup her cheek. “Most definitely another time.” I kiss her lips softly, quickly, then step back.
“And for the love of God, stop making the first move, that’s cramping my style. ”