Chapter 14 Hope
Hope
We have lunch with Luna, who is happy to babysit for a few hours, and then Bellamy goes down for a nap faster than she has in ages.
I watch her breathe for a full minute. Maybe two.
Then I stand up before I can talk myself out of it.
I’m just going down to the barn, and I won’t be long. Luna’s upstairs in her studio, with the door open, and she’ll keep her ear open. And I have Zane’s old phone, so she can call me if Bellamy wakes up before I get back.
Besides, after the emotional rollercoaster morning, now that Bellamy’s out, she’ll probably sleep for at least two hours.
I wish I had jeans to change into, they would be better for the barn than my leggings. Part of me is tempted to ask if Zane has any I can borrow—because I’d be too big for any of Luna’s jeans—but that makes my cheeks blaze.
In the bathroom, I splash cold water on my face as I quickly put my hair into two mini French braids to keep the frizz at bay.
The water doesn’t help with how pink my cheeks are, damn it.
Taking a deep breath, I stare at myself in the mirror. I don't look like a woman who hasn't slept through the night in four years. I look like a woman about to go do something foolish.
Just in case you ever have to tie someone up.
My stomach flips.
Yeah, no. No, no no.
That lecture-y note echoes in my head the whole way to the barn, but it doesn’t stop me from walking quickly, it doesn’t stop my pulse from racing, and it definitely doesn’t stop me from eagerly looking for Zane’s now familiar shape.
The barn is cooler than outside, and dimmer, all that warm afternoon light filtering through the high windows in long golden stripes. It smells earthy, like animals and hay, but not bad. This is a barn that’s cleaned out regularly, with care.
Zane is standing in the very end of the centre aisle, in front of an open door. He’s backlit by the sunny paddock on the other side of him, and he’s turned away from me, talking softly to a horse.
I barely have a chance to catalogue all the little elements as I approach—his hat is off, so his hair’s a little flat in a curious way, and he’s changed since this morning, swapping his t-shirt for a plaid cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up his impressively muscled forearms—before he senses my presence.
"Welcome to the barn, City Girl,” he says without turning around.
I jump. “How’d you know it was me, Cowboy?”
He turns and grins, a wide open smile that’s surprisingly playful as he holds up his phone. “We have location tracking on all of our phones. I watched you approach.”
I freeze, my whole body going white hot, then freezing cold.
“Hope?”
I stumble back.
Zane swears under his breath and holds up his hands. “Okay. Sorry, shit. I’ve said the wrong thing.”
I can’t move any further. My legs feel like lead. The world feels like it’s closing in around me, pressure squeezing me from all sides.
Beside me, there’s a soft whinny, then a velvety nose nudges my shoulder.
Nudge.
Nudge.
From a distance, I hear myself whisper to the horse that it should stop bumping me, but the horse isn’t a good listener.
And its nose is nice and firm, pushing through my panic.
Zane steps closer, keeping his hands up. “She won’t hurt you.”
Tears slide down my face, and I fucking hate that.
“I’m fine,” I manage to say.
He gives me a look, like yeah sure you are, and gently turns me—barely touching me, somehow—so I’m looking at the velvety soft muzzle. “You’ll be more fine after a minute with Shadow. This is my mare, and she’s a very good horse.”
Shadow is a gorgeous grey colour, with a wide white blaze down her nose and eyes so dark they look bottomless.
"Hi," I whisper.
She stretches her neck out over the stall door and huffs a warm breath against my collarbone.
"That's it." Zane's voice is low. He hasn't moved any closer, and I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or Shadow. “It’s nice to make friends. Quiet friends you can just breathe with."
I put my hand up tentatively and Shadow, not tentatively at all, pushes her nose into my palm, her whiskers tickling my wrist.
"There you go," Zane murmurs.
Still could be talking to either of us.
My next breath comes easier. Shadow blinks her long dark lashes and doesn't rush me. I wipe my cheeks, and instead of being embarrassed that I started crying in front of Zane, I feel an odd sense of relief. I cracked, but I didn’t break wide open.
I felt the wave of terrifying emotion and it didn’t push me down to the ground this time.
And as far as audiences for my panic goes, Zane is pretty understanding, actually.
“I shouldn’t have said it like that.” His voice is slow and steady. “I was distracted, thinking about… Well, that don’t matter. I’m not tracking you, Hope. I just accidentally noticed you today.”
“I need the phone in case Luna calls,” I manage to say, my voice shaking.
“Of course. We can turn off the tracking if you want. It’s something we rely on a lot, but it’s optional.
” He takes a deep breath. “From my perspective, it’s great when my brother's up in the foothills checking fence lines and we don't hear from him for six hours. My mom finds it reassuring when Dax is driving home from a rodeo at two in the morning. It's because there have been times in the past when we’ve felt like we were going to lose each other, and that’s scary to us. But I should have realized what’s reassuring to me might be scary for you for different reasons. ”
I close my eyes. Shadow nudges me again, and I lean my whole face against her cheek.
Didn’t know I was a horse girl until this moment, but I think I’m in love.
“He hid air tags in the car,” I finally say once my voice is more solid. “I knew to look for them before we got on the ferry.”
“Smart girl.” His voice takes on a hard steely edge to it. “What did you do with them?”
“Threw them in the water. But it was still terrifying to hold them in my hand and know that he’d be able to track us that far.”
“That’s completely understandable. Fuck, I’m sorry. Nobody's going to be watching you, Hope. I just saw that dot come down the driveway and I—”
I press my forehead against Shadow's. "I know," I whisper. "I know that. I do."
"I’ll turn the tracking off on your phone," Zane says. "Right now. I should have mentioned it when I gave it to you. That was thoughtless."
Fingers shaking, I pull the phone out of the snug pocket on the side of my leggings and hand it over.
His fingers brush mine, just for a second, and the warmth should startle me, but it doesn’t.
I find myself wanting another comforting touch, and when he hands the phone back, I don’t try to avoid touching him. He exhales audibly as my fingers slide against his, the contact more extended this time.
“How’d you turn that off?” I ask. My heart beats wildly. “Just in case I ever need to turn it back on.”
He steps closer, his shoulder brushing mine. “Here,” he says roughly. “In the settings. And if you go…” He flips to another app. “Here, you can see where I am, where everyone in my family is, even if you don’t have your location turned on. Okay? So we’ll never sneak up on you.”
"Okay," I say, mostly to myself. It is okay. This is okay. My voice is steadier now. "Yep. I'm here to learn. So teach me something, Cowboy."
Zane studies me for a long second, his mouth doing that thing where it wants to smile but he's making it behave. I think he likes the nickname.
"All right, City Girl," he says. He pulls a pair of gloves from his back pocket and slides them on as he walks backwards to the paddock. “I accidentally bought six new coils of rope this morning, so we might as well teach you a few things while we break them in.”
“Accidentally?” I follow him into the sunshine. “How’d that happen?”
“I interrupted the town gossip being a busybody in front of the rope, and loading up the store clerk’s arms seemed as good a plan as any to disrupt them.”
I laugh. “Do you hate gossip that much?”
He leans over and picks up a coil of rope from the ground.
“Saw it make my brother’s life a misery in high school, so yeah.
I do. But we always need rope, so it wasn’t a waste.
” He unfurls it, then doubles up the end and slaps it against his palm with a satisfying thwack.
“Plus it’s fun to take my frustrations out on. Feel this.”
He holds it out, and the rope is stiffer than I expect.
"New rope has zero give," Zane says, looping it around a fence post. “So the first thing I do is start bending it, breaking it in. Hooking it over and over again, pulling on it so it goes from stiff and brittle to soft and supple.”
He plants his boot and tugs, the muscles in his arms straining from the effort. Then he slides the rope through his gloved hands so a new part of it is against the post, and he pulls again. Again and again, until he’s halfway through the coil.
“You think you can do this?”
I puff out my cheeks. “Yes, sure.”
He takes off his gloves and hands them to me. They’re warm from his hands, and softer than I expected, and I make a little sound of surprise as my fingers sink into the leather.
“I’ll find another pair in the barn,” he mutters.
I mimic his stance and hook the stiff rope over the post. Pulling is harder than it looks, because the rope resists, but I can feel how the fibres start to crack as I work at it.
When he returns, he watches me for a moment, then steps behind me. “Can I show you?”
I nod.
"Dig in.” He pats my hip, and I try to ignore how nice his hand feels there. "Lean back. Use your weight."
I plant my feet. Lean. The rope bites into my palms.
"Better. That’s it. You want to feel that fight, that’s what makes the rope really give in. And once you show it who’s boss, then you can do anything you want with it.”