Not People #2
That fucker. Without a countdown or a heads-up or anything.
Ruin knows what’s up too, shifting beneath me, muscles bunching. Wanting to follow, wanting to run behind and win despite the head start .
But fear flickers through my stomach. Ruin’s never galloped with me, never gone full-tilt. What if he’s too fast, too reckless? What if I can’t stop him once he goes? What if—
No. Too tired of what ifs. Can’t take that shit anymore.
Fuck it.
“Don’t murder us,” I tell him, leaning forward and giving him the signal. “Let’s go.”
Before the words are completely out of my mouth, his hindquarters engage, and we’re flying.
Holy shit, we’re fucking flying.
The ground blurs beneath us. Wind tears at my hair, my clothes, my eyes.
We knew Ruin’s stride was massive, but he eats the ground as if the hunger is real and has been building up for centuries.
Each footfall lands sure and precise, launching us forward.
Like he barely touches earth. Like he forces its spin, makes it faster on its axis.
My grin hurts, it’s so wide. Can’t remember the last time I rode like this—no course, no clock, no judges. Just speed and power and joy.
We catch up to Eli and AP, draw even with them. I flip him off as we pass.
His laughter fades behind us as Ruin pulls ahead, but I still hear it, even over the thunder of hooves and the rush of blood in my ears. It feels like it’s inside me, that laugh, like it’s mine too, resonating through my bones and whatever dormant shit has finally decided to join the living world.
I ease Ruin down as we approach the treeline on the far side of the meadow. He transitions smoothly from gallop to canter to trot, responsive to the lightest cue like the brilliant partner he is. I pat his neck, rub it vigorously to show him how good he was.
We circle back to meet Eli and AP. They went off to the side where a creek cuts through the meadow and a massive oak spreads its branches over the water, creating a pocket of dappled shade. I guide us there.
By the time we reach them, Eli has already dismounted, hat resting on AP’s saddle. His cheeks are flushed, bunched up from the widest grin, eyes bright with something that I wish could be there always, every second of every day. Happiness. Maybe euphoria.
It makes him even more beautiful than usual. Which shouldn’t be possible.
For my heart’s sake.
“Look at you two. Freaking naturals,” he says as I pull Ruin to a stop and swing down from the saddle. My legs are shaky, hands too. My breaths are too deep and too fast, as if I was the one running all that distance. Shit, it was incredible.
Eli takes Ruin’s lead, giving his neck a vigorous rub. “Absolutely gorgeous, big man. Were dying to run, weren’t you?”
I step closer to the tree, a hand on its trunk to keep steady.
My body feels like it’s still riding, still slicing through that meadow, jittering from the speed and the danger and the not giving a fuck about either of those.
I’m too close to embarrassing myself and sagging to the ground like a goddamn damsel, so I don’t risk it and get my ass on the grass, back against the bark, the rough ridges massaging my skin into the present.
Eli tugs both horses closer to the creek, letting them know they can drink if they want. AP will keep Ruin from wandering, so Eli doesn’t even tie them anywhere, just unbuckles one of her saddlebags and pulls out something wrapped in checkered red flannel before making his way to me.
No hesitation when he drops down too, leaning back as I am, his shoulder brushing mine. He looks just as boneless as I feel, our legs sprawled out, boot to boot.
“Hope you’re hungry,” he says with the softest smile, unwrapping the flannel bundle in his lap.
The smell hits me first—a smoky, savory physical force, with hints of something sweet and sharp underneath. My stomach keeps quiet but still riots and claws at me to feed it that , whatever that is. And when my eyes get the full picture, I almost groan, saliva flooding my mouth in a second.
Not being dramatic, that’s gotta be the most magnificent sandwich I’ve ever seen.
Thick-cut bread, dark and seeded, piled with layers of meat so tender-looking it’s practically falling apart.
There are vegetables too—not the sad, pale tomato slices and wilted lettuce from hotel room service, but vibrant, glossy things that look like they were plucked from a garden minutes ago.
“Momma made it,” Eli says, separating the precut beast in half, careful so nothing spills.
“She packs me food whenever I’m gonna be out all day.
” He grants me one half, and I’m slow to take it, both my hands unsure of how to properly hold such a masterpiece.
“Fair warning—once you eat her cooking, you ain’t never gonna be the same. ”
Haven’t even tasted it yet and I believe it.
The weight of it feels substantial, like something that could fuel my body for a week, not just take the edge off today’s hunger.
In the back of my brain, something urges me to take a photo of it, but the whisper is gone before it’s even a proper thought; as if I’d spare a hand for my phone of all things.
The only way I’ll stop clamping this baby is when there’s nothing left to clamp.
I turn it slightly, trying to figure out the best angle of attack.
“Just go for it,” Eli says, smelling his half, eyes blinking softly under the bliss.
No need to tell me twice.
I take a bite. And holy fuck.
The bread yields with just the right amount of resistance, the crust crackling like it didn’t wait hours inside a leather bag.
Every flavor hits me in waves: smoked beef but richer, spicy red onion, cool tomato, crunchy…
something—maybe radish? And the bitterness of the arugula, all tied together with a spread of something peppery and complex that I won’t even try to guess at.
“Jesus,” I manage, mouth still full. Don’t care. “This is…”
“Good, right?” Eli grins, a spot of sauce at the corner of his mouth that he catches with his thumb.
Good? Forget the world stopping for me—this thing obliterated existence. Everything other than this moment, outside this pocket of me and it and him. How on earth can one woman give birth to something so intoxicating? And I mean both this and her son, somehow. Makes perfect sense in my head.
I close my eyes and sigh deeply, letting the flavors penetrate my taste buds and hopefully never leave.
Then my mouth. It speaks.
“Didn’t expect your mom would give me an orgasm before you did.”
My eyes stretch. Lungs solid. Spine rigid.
I didn’t just say that.
No, it’s not possible.
I swallow without chewing. A stone drags down my throat, splashes into my stomach acid. My cheeks burn, my ears are on fire.
I can’t look at Eli—never again. Need to pack and call for a car and run away. Like right now.
But that’s too insane, too not immediate. So I yank my hoodie up instead, head lost down the neck hole, total darkness. Maybe he forgets I exist.
He doesn’t.
His laugh is full and heavy but also airy—and how is that even possible? It vibrates through my skin like a preamble to getting on my nerves, but it never does, just makes me smile and groan because what the fuck? How could I even say something like that?
It’s the sandwich’s fault! It’s too good. And I only got one puny bite in, which isn’t even fair for the damage it did.
Fuck it. I hold my hoodie out, stretching it as far as it goes. Then I stick that juicy bastard in here with me, through the lower hem, into the darkness of my shame cocoon. And I yank another bite off, half a slice of tomato slapping on my lap. I bring it back in here, directly into my mouth.
“Are you eating in there?” He laughs louder, pitchier like he’s having a hard time breathing.
“No,” I lie, cheeks full like a chipmunk. “No one’s in here. Fuck off.”
He tugs my hood down, giggling as my head pops out the top. I keep my eyes closed, chin up, like a snotty brat pulling idiotic shit on purpose and everyone’s just too beneath it to understand my genius. But I can’t keep it up, curiosity making me slit an eye open.
Eli’s just sitting there, munching on his sandwich, warm gaze on me like I’m a lovable pet going about my usual shenanigans. When he sees me peek, he smirks so wide and alluring, the damn sandwich almost slips from my hands.
Then he asks, “So you’re saying I gotta step it up?”
I squeeze the bread too tight. Meat and veggies splurt down onto my lap. I don’t look, eyes locked on his.
The fuck is he saying?
Holy shit, why did he ask… What do I answer—
No! Cannot answer. Zero appropriate responses.
But he looks so sweet, grinning like that. So fucking hot too, like he knows he’s riling me up. Of course he does.
He looks like a soft demon. Or a hard angel, I can’t decide.
So I bump his shoulder with mine. It’s the only answer I manage while knowing exactly how differently this game would play out if we added a dark club and three shots of tequila.
Eli lets me get away with it, doesn’t push for an actual answer. Just bumps me back with slow and steady pressure. Longer than I did, shorter than I wished.
We eat in silence after that, but I can’t say it’s awkward. The only awkwardness here is in the remnants of my inane blurt-out. But even that is fading quickly.
I keep my eyes on the creek, my mind lulled by the hushed trickling and rustling leaves. When I glance at Eli after a while, he’s done with his food and watching the horses as they graze peacefully near the water. I do the same.
“Proud of him,” he eventually says, softly. “Of both y’all.”
My eyes on Ruin, I smile. “I’m proud of you .”
“Of me ?”
I nod, only then dragging my eyes off my awesome stallion. Eli is frowning but amused. “Look at all you’ve built. It’s fucking incredible.”