Chapter 22
Ash found her boot first, kicked off against the wall where leads hung from a row of hooks above. Great. So she was walking around half barefoot in here? Or worse. If she took off on a horse with only one…
He breathed a sigh of relief when he rounded the corner and found her leaning on Jack’s gate, bare foot held aloft like she was a flamingo while she patted the gelding’s nose.
“Jesus, Willow. I thought you took off on one of the horses. Injured. Do you know how dangerous that is?”
He watched her shoulders deflate, and something inside of him did the same. When she turned to look at him, balancing now on her bare heel along with her boot, he saw what looked like defeat in her brown eyes.
“That was the plan,” she admitted. “It’s the best way to clear my head, but…” She shook her bare foot and shrugged. “Ibuprofen is kicking in, but the boot was definitely a mistake.” She nodded toward Jack’s gray nose still poking over the top of the gate. “So I’m getting to know Jack a bit better. He’s a good listener.”
Ash strode toward her but stopped a few feet away. He knew she’d left the house because she needed her distance from him and the four-year-long mess he’d gotten himself tangled up in. But he also knew he could help if she’d let him.
“I can take you out on him, just around the arena. He’s been healing up really well.” He leaned closer for a conspiratorial stage whisper. “Might even be on his way to riding faster than Cirrus.”
Cirrus snorted in his stall at the mention of his name, and the corner of Willow’s mouth twitched. An almost smile. Ash considered that a small victory.
“On a lead?” she asked, then pressed her lips together and shook her head. “It’s not the same. Something about going slow makes me think too much. Does that make sense?”
Of course it made sense. Ash hadn’t been on the back of a horse for who knows how long before he hopped into Midnight’s saddle and took her to the clearing. That short ride off the property was the most peace he’d felt in years. He and Willow might be miles away from where they were for one glorious night in a tent, but at least here, in the barn, they were on the same page.
“Then let’s take Midnight for a spin,” he told her. “According to Eli, she’s the best at riding double.”
Willow’s eyes brightened for a second before her expression fell. She opened her mouth to protest, but Ash held up his hands.
“Hear me out. For however long we’re out there”—he pointed to the arena and the field and forest that lay beyond—“I don’t exist other than pulling the reins. It’s just you, the mare, and the wind. We don’t have to talk. I’m just the vehicle to get you where you need to go.”
She bit her bottom lip, and he could see the wheels starting to turn. She was considering the offer, which meant she wanted this even if she didn’t exactly want it with him.
“Let me do this for you, Wills. Please?”
After a few more beats of silence, she finally nodded her head.
Ash blew out a breath. “Great. Okay. I’ll tack her up, and we’ll go.” He glanced down at her feet. “But you can’t go like that. Can I grab you a pair of sneakers or something? You still have those red Chuck Taylors?”
Her cheeks flush slightly as she nodded again. “You remember my shoes,” she told him, a statement rather than a question.
He remembered everything. Well, save for the few days following her departure when he somehow survived performing while subsisting on nothing other than an overabundance of liquid courage.
“Yeah,” was all he said. “I’ll be right back.”
Once he had Midnight ready to go, Ash sat Willow down on a storage bench outside the stalls and let her pull off her remaining boot.
“Do you want help?” he asked, holding up the well-worn pair of Converse sneakers.
Willow rolled her eyes. “I can put on my own shoes.”
That she could, and she did. Ash said nothing as she winced—but only slightly—sliding her right foot into the very loosely laced shoe and tying it just enough so it wouldn’t fall off. When he held out a hand to help her back up, she reluctantly took it, though she seemed steadier on her feet now as she limped toward the arena door where Midnight waited for them outside.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
And although she nodded, she reminded him, “No talking, remember?”
Ash let out a nervous laugh. “Right. Guess that starts now.”
Willow greeted Midnight with a pet between the eyes, and the mare responded with an affectionate nuzzle.
“So…mounting…” he began, scratching the back of his neck. “I didn’t think about that.”
It made sense for him to hop in the saddle first since he’d be sitting in front, but then how would he help Willow up?
She waved him off. “It’s a stupid, silly pinkie toe,” she informed him. “I can still mount a horse.”
He raised his brows and shrugged. Then he removed Midnight’s lead, stored it in her small pack, and hopped into the saddle. He immediately removed his boot from the left stirrup so Willow could use it to do the same, but he could already tell that the stirrup was too far forward for her to use it as the sole means for climbing into the pillion saddle. She’d have to put all her weight on her right foot to even attempt it, and Ash could tell by the frustration in her stare that she had realized the same thing.
Ash held out his left hand and mimed zipping his lips with his right, assuring her that he would by no means violate the Pretend I’m not here policy unless acknowledgment of his presence was an absolute necessity.
She sighed and grabbed his hand, which gave her the leverage she needed to reach the stirrup, and then he hoisted her the rest of the way until her chest was flush against his back, her arms wrapped tight around his torso as she steadied herself in on the pillion.
His pulse quickened at her touch. There was no way Willow couldn’t feel his heart hammering away like an overeager drum solo. But if she noticed, she didn’t let on. Instead, she simply squeezed him tight and said, “Ready whenever you are.”
So Ash gripped the reins, gave Midnight a soft nudge with his heels, and pointed her in the direction of the open gate on the other end of the arena, the one that would take them wherever Willow wanted to go.
For a few minutes, that was how they rode, Ash in control of the mare with Willow hanging on from behind. Slowly, though, she loosened her grip on his waist and slid her hands behind his so they both were holding the reins. He leaned slightly to the right and felt her lean to the left.
“Can you see?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied, her cheek almost flush against his.
“Then she’s all yours,” Ash told her, letting his hands trade places with hers. “You’re in charge.”
“Yah!” Willow called, tapping her heels on Midnight’s flanks, and they sailed across the field and toward the woods.
Even though he couldn’t see her behind him, Ash imagined Willow smiling, letting go of everything he’d put her through both in their time together and apart.
He expected her to pull the mare left as the field gave way to trees, but instead she pulled up on the reins, slowing the horse until they came to an opening in trees where the oft-trodden trail would take them to the clearing where she found him that first day a month ago.
He didn’t ask why or if she was sure. He simply let her take the lead as Midnight slowly led them deeper into the trees, the only sound the buzzing of cicadas and the rustling of leaves as a small animal scurried by.
Finally, sunlight began to peek through the leaves until they were exactly where they’d been four weeks prior when they’d made their truce and agreed to work together on a song.
Midnight paced back and forth in question, so Ash decided to ask what both he and the mare were wondering.
“Is this just a pause or a destination?” he pondered. “Because I think Midnight wants to know.”
He felt her let out a long breath before she spoke. “I want to lie under the maple and watch the clouds.”
“Okay,” he replied. “I’ll help you down. Midnight and I can hang by the grazing tree.”
She was quiet as he dismounted first, careful to swing his leg in front of him rather than behind. Then he let her dismount mostly on her own, only grabbing her hips to help her land softly once she was close enough to the ground.
He was ready to turn in the opposite direction from the maple when Willow grabbed his wrist.
“Come with me,” she told him simply.
“Okay,” he answered again, daring to let a spark of hope ignite.
He tied off Midnight to a tree where the mare was happy to graze and then followed Willow, who seemed to be limping less with each step, to where the sun flickered through breeze-blown leaves, speckling the grass like flickering stars.
She lay down first, patting the grass beside her. Ash dropped his hat to the ground and then reclined on the warm patch of earth.
“Meditating on clouds,” Willow said softly as they both stared up at the sky. “I like what you called it when I asked if I was a weirdo for liking this.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “I like that you like doing it.” He cleared his throat. “Probably should have asked for permission to speak. You could have just been thinking out loud.”
Willow reached over and backhanded him on the shoulder. “ You’re the one who said you weren’t going to talk. I never said you couldn’t.”
“Ahh,” he mused. “But you never said I could either.”
She sighed. “Your life was a circus before I even met you, wasn’t it?”
“That’s putting it mildly,” he agreed.
A wisp of white streaked slowly above the leaves, seemingly carried by the soft wind. What a contrast this place was to the chaos he’d been living since he was a teen. Ash loved the chaos, didn’t he? Why else would he have kept at it for a decade now?
He wasn’t sure how much more to say, how much she still wanted to hear.
“Is knowing everything even more exhausting than hating me?” he asked.
Silence stretched between them for several seconds before she finally responded.
“You’ve been playing a fictional version of yourself for four years, Ash. How is that not exhausting for you ?”
He shrugged. “Despite her being a little less than honest about our initial agreement, Annabeth really has become a good friend over the years, and those are hard to find in this line of work. I play the part I need to play so I can make the music I want to make. It’s all part of the game, isn’t it?”
Willow hummed a soft sigh. “I don’t play it,” she told him.
Ash huffed out a laugh. “Then what are you doing holed up with me in a guesthouse writing a song you never intended to write before trying to bludgeon me to death?”
Willow rolled her eyes. “Touché, I suppose, but I wasn’t actually trying to kill you. I was just hoping not to get unalived myself.”
They both laughed. Several beats of silence followed before Willow spoke again. “You know I never actually hated you, right?”
Even though he hadn’t heard her move, he could feel that her eyes were on him now rather than the sky. So he tilted his head to meet her gaze, expecting to see the same hurt and frustration he’d seen back in the barn. But her brown eyes were clear and intent, a stamp of approval on an admission of truth.
“How?” he asked.
She reached for his fingertips, brushing her skin against his and nothing more, yet sending a surge of electricity through him like only Willow Morgan could.
“I hated what happened. I hated that for months after everything happened, I was caught up in that circus. I hated that I actually cared what strangers were saying about me. And I hated that the only person who might understand what I was going through was the one who put me in that position in the first place.”
He gritted his teeth and swore. “I’m so sorry, Wills. I know it’s just words and that I can’t take any of it back, but you have to believe how much I hate that I did that to you.”
Willow nodded. “I believe you.” Then she pushed herself up, pulling her heels together so she was sitting like a butterfly. “I think we’re getting really close with the song, which is great. But I need a reminder of why we got into this business in the first place.”
Ash crossed one boot over the other and propped himself up on his elbows. “What do you mean?”
She already had her phone out, her thumb scrolling through something on her screen.
“Casey’s parents own that bar, right? What is it called?”
This got him to sit up. “Yeah. Midtown Tavern. She still tends bar there a couple times a week if her parents are short-staffed.”
“Right!” Willow exclaimed. She tapped on her screen and then held it up for him to see. “They have a small space for live musicians, but it doesn’t look like they have anyone booked for tonight.” She beamed at him, suddenly lit from within at the mere thought of getting to do this thing that she loved. Ash missed that feeling.
“What are you getting at, Willow Morgan?” he asked, her smile and excitement too contagious to resist.
“Think Meadow Valley’s one and only night-time establishment would be up for a little pop-up acoustic set?”
Ash pulled his loaner phone out of his pocket. “I’ll call Boone right now and see what we can do.” He stood, then held a hand out for Willow.
She grabbed it, her grip firm and assured. Once standing, her hand still in his, she added, “The space looks big enough for two. What do you say to a pop-up duet?”
His eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
She nodded. “I only have one condition.”
He didn’t care if she had two hundred conditions. He’d jump through a ring of fire doused in gasoline if it meant sharing the stage with Willow tonight. “Anything you want. Name it.”
“None of these.” She waggled her phone in her hand. “Closed set. Phones at the door. No public evidence of the show…and no communication to Sloane about it. Our show. Our terms.”
“Done,” Ash replied without hesitation. “ Our show. Our terms.”