16. Georgina #3
I wait, wary of what usually follows: the training, the worry, the explanation of what he was trying to do for me. Max loosens his fingers on the reins instead, letting the gray stretch his neck. When he looks back, he doesn’t appear to expect me to make his answer easier.
“I don’t want to have to earn this by riding,” I tell him. Saying it costs more than I expect. I have managed to sit on my horse, to walk him around this arena, and still I am afraid to ask whether my husband will want my company if tomorrow I can’t do any of it.
“You don’t.” Max holds my gaze until Sovrano takes another step and I have to look ahead. “If you want a walk tomorrow, we’ll leave the horses here.”
I remember lying against him while he promised another day together, and how long I kept making room for it. I want to believe him now, but I wanted to believe him then, too.
“I might want to be left alone tomorrow.” I keep my voice light, but it is a possibility he needs to hear.
“Then I’ll argue about the gate with your manager.” Max glances at me, cautious with the joke, and I let myself answer it.
“He’ll win.” I ease my hands as Sovrano takes us into the next corner. “He has measurements.”
We go on a walk, with enough room between us that our stirrups don’t touch.
At the next turn, I notice that I am watching the gray try his luck toward the gate again instead of waiting for Sovrano to stumble. I point it out, and Max sighs at his borrowed horse with such injured dignity that I laugh. This time he simply smiles back.
We complete another half-circuit before I feel my legs starting to tire.
The constant effort of tightening and reminding myself to soften has caught up with me.
I want to stop while I can still enjoy what I’ve done.
I halt Sovrano near the mounting block and look at Max. “I think that’s enough for today.”
He nods and brings the gray to a stop beside us. He calls the groom over from the yard, then dismounts and hands her the reins. She takes the gray and stands holding him while Max comes to Sovrano’s head.
“Would you like the block?” Max glances toward it, waiting for me to decide.
I look at the mounting block, then at the ground. It seems very far away. “The block. And stay close in case my legs don’t work properly.”
I bring Sovrano alongside the block, and Max steadies him while I take both feet out of the stirrups.
For a moment I hesitate at the change in balance, then bring my right leg carefully over and lower myself onto the top step.
Standing there with one hand on the saddle, I discover that getting off requires a little courage, too.
“Your hand, please.” I reach for Max before I start down the steps, and he gives it to me without pulling. His palm is warm and rougher than I remember. I keep hold until both my feet are on the sand, then let go.
My knees feel a little unreliable, but the sensation eases as I stand beside Sovrano. He noses at my sleeve again, apparently satisfied that he has earned whatever I might be hiding.
“Good boy.” I reach up and run my hand along his neck, feeling the familiar warmth of him. “Thank you.”
The groom takes the gray back to the stable, and I loosen Sovrano’s girth before leading him out. Max opens the gate for us. He falls into step on my other side, carrying his helmet, and I tell him I want to see to Sovrano before I go in.
In the yard, I pass Max the reins long enough to undo my chin strap and put my helmet on the bench. My braid has worked loose at the nape of my neck. I push the strands back, then reach for the girth buckles, grateful for something familiar to do with hands that still aren’t entirely steady.
“Would you take the saddle?” I free the girth and look across Sovrano’s back at Max. “I’ll bring him through.”
We have done this together hundreds of times.
I take back the reins as Max lifts the saddle clear, then guide Sovrano toward his stall, talking to him while he noses at my sleeve.
There is sweat beneath my shirt and dust on my boots, and I know I’ll feel the afternoon in my thighs tomorrow.
I want to feel it. I want to wake and have this to remember before I start wondering what the rest of the day will hold.
Once Sovrano is settled, I linger at his door. Max has put the tack away and is washing his hands at the tap. In a moment, I will walk back to the house, and he will find the next job that needs doing. He hasn’t asked to come with me. I haven’t invited him.
That distance was easier to bear when I couldn’t imagine anything else.
“Max.” I wait until he turns off the tap and looks over. “I’m glad I asked you.”
He dries his hands slowly on the towel beside the sink. “So am I, Elle.”
I catch myself looking at the empty stretch of bench beside my helmet, wanting to ask him to sit with me for a while before I go inside. Then I pick up my helmet and hold it against my hip, unable to decide whether to stay.
Because I can bear wanting him but I’m afraid of counting on him again.