Page 12 of Play For Me

“It was double embarrassing for him,” Jay tells Red in a loud stage whisper. “Because CeCe is the Ransome that he’s obsessed with.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not obsessed with her.”

“Wait,” Red cuts in. “This is the one you stare at like a puppy dog?”

“What the fuck?” I yelp as Jay cracks up. “You told my grandpa that?”

“No,” Em says smugly. “I did.”

“I hate you both.”

But inside, I’m relaxing. This is exactly what I hoped would happen—well, I didn’t hope that they told Red about my crush, because that’s some bullshit. But I had hoped to turn their attention to ragging on me a bit. I knew it would cheer them up, get them to stop thinking about their mom.

Now both of the siblings are telling my grandpa about all the times they’ve seen me mooning over her—greatly exaggerating, of course. I swear I’m not that pathetic.

By the time we stack our empty plates in the sink, most of the tension seems to have gone out of the two of them. And when Red suggests we head out to get a ride in before going back to campus, they both agree. I hope the ride will do away with any remaining bad feelings. Horses have a way of doing that.

There are no employees in the barn—the few hands that are working on a Sunday are probably out exercising some horses. But the four of us are more than experienced enough to get our own animals saddled and ready.

I step into Solitaire’s stall, letting the latch shut behind me. The noise is quiet, but Solitaire hears—or else he just senses my presence. Either way, he comes to me right away, nudging my shoulder, and I rub my hands over his smooth coat. Solitaire is a four-year-old gelding, the horse I always ride when given the choice. There’s no skittishness with him, no hesitation. When I lean into his neck a little, he leans right back.

There’s a rhythm between us as I start to get him ready to ride, one we’ve practiced countless times. There’s little need to communicate with this horse in words, little chance of being misunderstood. I don’t have to guess at meaning or tone or emotion, the way I do with most people. The two of us can justbe, working and moving together, each doing our prescribed jobs, each trusting each other. It’s hard to describe just how calming that is for me.

The four of us stick together to start out, moving out past the paddocks closest to the barn and out towards the hills. It feels good to be on a horse again, good to shut down my mind, to only have to concentrate on this one thing, this one task. It’s a hot day, but there’s some breeze coming in off the hills.

We ride for a good long while, Em and Jay eventually veering off toward the river while Red and I continue up into the lower hills. I stop at the crest of one, looking out over the land stretched before us, the cloud-dotted sky huge and endless over my head.

“Hey,” Red says, bringing his horse up beside me. “This was a nice day. I’m glad you guys came up.”

“Me too.” I let my gaze wander down toward the ranch house, a big part of me wishing I could send Jay and Em on back to school without me, that I could stay here in this calm, quiet place that had changed my life all those years ago.

“You’re gonna be pretty busy this semester,” Red says, reading my mind.

“Yeah. The clinicals will probably take up a lot of time.” A lot of time is probably an understatement. The program is designed for plenty of hands-on work directly with athletes. I’ll likely be working between twenty and forty hours a week with the team I’m assigned to, attending practices, working in the weight room and treatment room, even attending some away games. In addition to the clinicals, which is practically a full-time job on its own, I’ll be taking a few regular courses. It’s going to be a lot.

He’s quiet for a moment. “You know it’s going to be okay, right?” he asks.

“Sure.” I try to make my voice easy, but I’m not sure he buys it.

“Seriously, Sol. You’re the smartest person I know. They never would have let you into that dual degree program if they didn’t think you could do it. You know this stuff front and back.”

“It’s not the knowledge part I’m worried about,” I mutter. I know I’m smart enough to do this work. I excel in all my coursework. But this project isn’t taking place in a classroom.

“It’s the one-on-one stuff,” he surmises.

“Yeah.”

We both know that working directly with another person isn’t always easy for me. It’s something I’ll have to get used to if I want to actually work in my field, but I know there will be a rough few weeks while I get used to whoever I’m assigned to.

“You’re selling yourself short,” Red says softly. “You’re so much better at all that than you used to be.”

I scoff. “Bullshit.”

“You are, son. Don’t discount how hard you’ve worked.”

For some reason, my mind goes back to that party. To watching Cecelia Ransome dancing with her cousins, wondering what it would be like to be so free, so sure of myself, so unbothered.

And then, when I actually had the chance to interact with her, instead of just watch her like a creeper, I lost my shit over a little spilled punch.