Something Else
AN HOUR LATER , I’m finally done with properly checking into this place.
Rey dumped me on the old man in charge of receiving non-trespassers upon arrival, and I played my part, nodding at whatever he’d say.
The guy droned about how the cafeteria is open day and night, how there are no quiet hours but loud spaces—like the residential deckhouse where I’ll be staying—because those are the exception around here.
All the while, the only thing on my mind was black and brutal. And how easily such a savage thing could turn to goo in big manly hands.
Can’t blame the horse. If anything, I’m jealous.
Rey had already given me most of the tour already, so once I got my thumb print added to the system—whatever the fuck for—I fled.
Now I follow the gravel paths back to the drop-off zone, empty like nothing earth-shattering ever happened.
And then take the one toward where Eli seemed to be taking the horse earlier.
Soon, I spot a small barn—so damn tiny, I should be calling it something else.
Someone’s cottage, except it’s clearly not made for anyone’s day-to-day—high roofs, glassless windows for airflow and natural light.
Tall doors open wide, the bottom half kept closed at waist level.
To keep horses from wandering off, I’m guessing.
A tall guy—yeah, it’s Eli—stands at the small entry gate, keeping it ajar as he chats with—
Oh, shit, what’s wrong?
I pick up speed, running scenarios in my mind as to why Eli would be consulting with some girl in full hazmat getup outside my horse’s stable.
Did he get hurt? No—no—no, he can’t. I need him right now, ready to go. Ready to start training. Six months to get him two-star ready, so every minute counts. Even a damn hoof abscess would risk our deadline, my career, everything.
Eli notices me coming and finishes it off with her, helping her hoist a bulky duffel bag over her shoulder. I hold onto mine’s strap too, over the chest, so my hands don’t show how bad I’m clenching. We exchange nods as she walks by.
“What happened?” I ask Eli before fully reaching him, catching his eyes for a moment—relaxed, no panic—before searching for my horse inside the barn. Can’t spot him. “Where is he?”
Eli smiles. “He’s fine. Burning energy out back.” He points inside the barn, and I see there’s an outdoor paddock on the other side of it. Okay, I see him. Trotting around, following the fence. He’s fine. It’s fine.
I point a thumb over my shoulder. “Then what’s with the zombie outbreak chick?”
“It’s a biological containment suit,” he says like the proper name is what’s important. “Simple vet check, but with extra precautions ‘cause it’s a quarantine barn.”
Right. Quarantine. Low-key as this place seems, the protocols are as tight as any elite camp. “How many days?”
“Fourteen.”
Standard. “And who has access?”
“Me. A dedicated groom.” He glances at where the hazmat girl went. “Vet assistant, occasionally.” Then he lifts his chin and deepens the smile. “And you. If you behave.”
That makes me tingle all over, damn him. And I can’t even tell if that’s just him reading me like a cookbook and matching my energy or if he’s the energy himself. Like a bro or like… not a bro.
Either way, I can’t not respond, obviously. Even if this is just him putting me at ease by roleplaying my sassy-with-strangers vibe. “You know I can’t promise that.”
Eli hums, crossing his arms and switching to his boot to keep the gate open. “Well… Boss ain’t gonna be happy about that.” Then he grins like he knows. Of course he fucking knows.
I groan. “Fine, yes. I thought you were an old bag, okay?” He laughs, and it’s music. “Mythical hermit. Long beard. Flowy robe. Maybe a raven on the shoulder.”
He lets his arms fall dramatically for a moment. “Aww, man. I wanted the raven.” Like a kid who missed the call for ice cream.
It makes me chuckle. “Can you blame me? How the fuck is the magical horse whisperer of all legend like”—I squint—“what, thirty...four?”
“I’m twenty-eight.”
I almost smack him. “You are not twenty-eight years old.”
He dares to laugh about it. “Last I checked.”
“Well...bless your mother for lying to you.”
He keeps laughing, and I’m fully prepared to keep embarrassing myself to keep him going.
But I let it die down, faking a quick assessment of the surroundings so I can breathe properly.
He sounds so dreamy. Hopefully, he laughs like that in my dreams too, but right now, I need to reel any focus left back in .
Eli lets off a few more chuckles before settling. Then, eyes on the ground and arms ever tighter over his ridiculous chest, he asks, “Is it that important that I’d be older?”
More like too old. If he were, I’d more easily slap my wrist before snatching the metaphorical cookie. Wouldn’t be this distracted over saggy skin and age spots.
“It’d just be easier,” I say, then panic for a second at how truthful it came out. “To believe, I mean. You’re basically the most respected guy in the industry.”
“Had an early start,” he says, like there was zero talent involved. “So did you.”
That makes my neck stiff. Everyone knows my history—how I started early, always the youngest in most competitions. There’s a picture of toddler-me napping against the old mare Mom kept at my grandparents’ that made both the pro circuit and mainstream media—socialite and proper news alike.
So why does it sound wrong on his lips?
I look away, try to smile. “So you did your homework.”
“Oh, thoroughly.” Goddammit, why is he so hot? Even as he clears his throat and looks away. “I mean…you wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t.”
“Sure.”
“Sure. Yeah.” He stands straighter. “So…you wanna meet him?”
“Who?”
A grin. “Your horse, slick.”
“Oh.” Yeah, I fucked that one up. Owning it. “Lead the way.”
Eli nods and opens the gate fully to let me pass, which I do after dropping my duffel on the ground by the fence.
The latch clicks shut behind us with the expected clink but also a soft electronic buzz.
“Was just about to bring him in,” he says, swiping a lead rope from a nearby hook and hanging it over a shoulder.
“He needed the space, but getting him back on routine’s gonna help too. ”
Never visited a horse during quarantine, but I’m sure none of them stayed in a place like this.
A whole barn, made for one horse. One large stall, one indoor round pen, a dedicated tack and storage rooms with feed and cleaning supplies.
Everything a ranch would need but concentrated here, so nothing needs to come in from the outside and vice versa.
And a private paddock outside. My horse passes by us, fur still gleaming from the drooling, hair still a mess, but trotting along the periphery like he’s trying to shake it off.
That’s when I notice the Palomino mare from before, on the other side of the log fence.
No, she’s farther away—there’s a buffer area around the paddock, which makes sense for quarantine.
Even a sniff between horses could transmit diseases.
I lean against the fence, smirking at the mare. “The boss’s old lady, huh?”
Eli glances at her with a smile of his own and has the decency to show a speck of embarrassment for having played me earlier. “That’s AP. Her presence soothes him.”
“AP? That short for something?”
He presses his smile down, gazing at her softly. “Yeah.” Then silence as I wait for the long version. It never comes. “Story for another day,” is all he gives me before unlatching the paddock gate and opening it wide, stepping inside without another word.
My jaw clenches. Fine. Don’t tell me. Not like we’re buddies or anything.
My stallion sees him coming and reduces his speed until he’s walking, keeping his distance. Eli doesn’t immediately go to him, instead sending a loud kiss at his old mare as if he’s calling on a dog. Odd as it may sound, the mare gets the cue and slowly drifts away, job well done .
Even after she’s gone, Eli doesn’t look at the stallion.
He looks at the trees, then the sky, maybe deciding if this is a good day for fishing.
That same vibe holds as he takes the first couple of steps toward the horse, who is weight-shifting, neck high, jerky tail.
But doesn’t bolt, doesn’t pin his ears or lunge or paw at the dirt.
Just a sniff, testing the air between them.
It takes a full thirty seconds before the stallion exhales.
Big and loud, like he’s deflating. Only then does Eli continue to move, hands not reaching until they’re nearly touching, and even then it’s just a brush along the horse’s shoulder, just a connection, an assurance.
That’s what everything feels like—micro assurances that will hopefully add up.
The stallion flinches a little at the touch but doesn’t retreat.
Finally, Eli takes the rope from his shoulder, and it’s then that I notice there’s nothing left of the trailer lead.
No halter, no anything, just a bare horse like you’d find in the wild.
Without the halter, there’s nothing to clip the rope on, though, so Eli has to loop it over the neck so the horse can be guided out.
But that’s not what he does.
He holds the coiled lead like one would a folded belt, then rests it gently along the stallion’s withers—a whisper of contact, barely a touch. Then Eli walks, and I’m not even surprised anymore that the horse follows beside him.
They pass by me, and the stallion’s eye flicks my way, quick and sharp.
But not hostile, just aware, clocking me as another part of the equation, something to consider.
That’s why I’m here, surely, one of only four people allowed near him for the next two weeks—I need to become part of the equation.
Him plus me, the quicker the better. It’s the only way we’ll get ready in time.