CHAPTER 4. Connor #3
“As I’ll ever be,” I mutter behind him.
The stable hand releases the bridle, and Noah gently squeezes with his legs. The horse steps forward with a jolt that makes me tighten my grip around Noah’s waist. We follow Daniel and Maya out of the stable yard and onto a wide dirt path leading toward the lake.
“We’re going to take the shore trail,” Daniel calls back. “About twenty minutes round trip. Beautiful views.”
“Sounds great,” Noah replies, his voice a faint vibration against my chest.
Daniel and Maya urge their horses into a trot, pulling ahead. I stiffen as our horse takes a few quicker steps, instinctively following the others.
“Whoa,” Noah murmurs, easing back on the reins. The horse slows to a walk again. “We’re not in any hurry,” he adds over his shoulder. “We’ll just walk, okay? Nice and easy along the shore.”
I nod, not trusting my voice. My heart pounds in my ears, and my palms are sweating where they’re pressed against Noah’s stomach. I try to keep my breathing steady, but it’s coming faster and shallower than I’d like.
I focus on controlling my breathing as we follow the trail.
The lake stretches out beside us, sunlight skimming across the surface.
It’s objectively beautiful—the kind of view people pay good money for.
But all I can focus on is the horse’s movement beneath me, the way we sway slightly with each step, the drop to the ground if we fall.
Noah glances back at me, concern clear in his eyes. “You’re really not okay, are you?”
“I’m fine,” I say automatically, though my death grip on his waist probably says otherwise.
He shifts slightly in the saddle. “Your hands are shaking.”
I glance down and realize he’s right. I loosen my grip a little, embarrassed. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he says. Then, clearly trying to distract me, he adds in an upbeat tone, “By the way, how did you manage to get three days off work? I thought hospital schedules were impossible.”
I cling to the conversation like a lifeline. “My boss actually made me take a week off.”
“Really? That sounds weirdly generous for healthcare.”
I exhale slowly, focusing on his question rather than the horse beneath us. “It wasn’t generosity. Dr. Patel basically ordered me out of the hospital. Said I was going to burn out.”
Noah makes a small sound of understanding. “Overworking yourself?”
“Something like that.” I shift slightly, trying to get more comfortable without throwing off our balance. My thighs are already starting to ache from the awkward position.
The horse takes a slightly uneven step, and I instinctively tighten my hold on Noah’s waist, gripping him hard enough to pull a soft grunt out of him.
“Sorry,” I say immediately, loosening my grip. “Did I hurt you?”
“No,” he says, though I can hear the strain in his voice. “Maybe hold a little lower?”
I slide my hands down to his hips, still keeping a firm grip but trying not to squeeze too hard. “Better?”
“Much,” he says.
I exhale again, trying to calm down. The horse plods forward with a steady rhythm that should be reassuring, but my body remembers the fall too well—the sudden lurch, the world tilting, the ground rushing up to meet me.
I focus on Noah instead, the warmth of him under my hands giving me something solid to focus on.
“So did you get caught sleeping during your shift or something?” Noah asks, keeping his voice light.
I appreciate the attempt at humor, but the question pulls me right back to the hospital—to the fluorescent lights and the quiet beeping of monitors in room 412.
“One of my patients died.” It still hurts to say out loud, but talking about it is easier than focusing on the panic in my chest. “It wasn’t unexpected. He was terminal. But I’d been taking care of him for months, and when he died, it hit me harder than I expected.”
Noah makes a quiet sympathetic sound. “I’m sorry.”
The horse’s hooves make a quiet, steady beat against the dirt path as it curves along the shoreline. Daniel and Maya are far ahead now, just two small figures in the distance.
“That’s why I was actually glad when you showed up at my door with your…unexpected proposal,” I admit. “I needed to get out of my apartment. Away from my thoughts.”
“Happy to be a convenient distraction,” Noah says, the teasing note in his voice making me smile despite myself.
“The most elaborate distraction I’ve ever had,” I reply. “Usually I just play video games until I can’t keep my eyes open.”
Noah laughs, the sound vibrating through his back and into my chest. “Well, I’m glad my complete emotional breakdown could be of service.”
I huff out a quiet laugh and glance out over the lake, watching a pair of ducks lift off from the surface.
“Your family is very nice,” I say after a moment. “I don’t know why you were so nervous.”
Noah shrugs slightly. “It’s just…awkward, I guess. I’ve never done this before.”
“Brought a fake boyfriend home?” I tease.
“Brought any boyfriend home,” he says.
I think about that for a moment. “Did you want to?” I ask. “With Rick, I mean.”
Noah is quiet for a second before answering.
“I wanted everything with him,” he says finally. “To stop hiding. Get married. Have kids.” There’s no bitterness in his voice, just a quiet sadness. “Turns out we weren’t exactly on the same page.”
“That’s rough,” I say quietly.
“Yeah. Took me a while to figure that out.”
I nod. Quinn and I weren’t on the same page either. Honestly, I don’t think we were even in the same book.
For a while neither of us says anything. The path narrows, forcing our horse closer to the water’s edge. A breeze ripples across the lake, sending small waves lapping against the shore.
“So tell me about your job at the animal rescue,” I say after a few minutes. “What exactly does a fundraising coordinator do?”
Noah perks up at the question. “I organize events, manage donations—stuff like that. Basically I do anything that brings in money to keep the place running.” His voice warms as he talks.
“We work with all kinds of animals, but mostly cats and dogs. Last year we placed over four hundred of them in homes.”
“That’s impressive.”
He shrugs. “It’s not exactly glamorous. My salary barely covers rent, and sometimes I spend days writing grant proposals that get rejected. But then you see an animal get adopted by someone who’s going to love them forever, and it makes all the annoying parts feel worth it.”
I smile, oddly moved by the quiet pride in his voice. “Sounds like you really love it.”
“I do. I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.” He pauses, then glances back at me. “Do you like animals? I saw the dachshund tattoo on your chest. I was wondering about it.”
My hands tighten slightly on his hips. “That was my dog, Pickle,” I say. “She died three years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” Noah says softly. “What happened?”
“Kidney failure,” I say. “She was sixteen. A pretty good run for a dachshund.”
“It is,” Noah says quietly. “You must miss her, though.”
“I miss her like hell,” I admit. “I’ve thought about getting another dog, but I keep putting it off.”
“Why?”
“Time, mostly. I work long hours. It wouldn’t be fair to leave a dog alone that much.”
“That makes sense.” He shifts slightly in the saddle. “I always wanted a dog.”
“Why don’t you have one?” I ask. “Working at a rescue and not having any pets feels like grounds for termination.”
Noah smirks.
“I almost did,” he says. “When I was dating Rick. We talked about maybe finally moving in and getting one together. But after he broke up with me, for a while it was hard to take care of myself, let alone another living thing.” He sighs.
“Now I just keep putting it off. Plus, the walls in our building are shit. I’m pretty sure the neighbors would complain about barking. ”
“I wouldn’t complain,” I say.
He glances back at me, a small smile forming. “No?”
I shake my head.
“I’d probably borrow your dog when you’re not home,” I admit. “Win-win.”
“I’m always home, remember?” Noah laughs, shooting me a mock-annoyed look. “You said it yourself—I never leave my apartment.”
I laugh too, the tension easing out of my shoulders. I’m surprised by how suddenly good this moment feels. Being with Noah is easy, and that catches me off guard.
For a while I just sit there with my arms around him, letting the horse carry us down the trail. At some point, without me noticing, it stops feeling like a threat. And for the first time since we climbed into the saddle, I realize I’m actually enjoying myself.