Page 22 of Savage Heart

He looks around reverently, then up at me. “Do you ride every day?”

“Most days, yes.”

“In here?”

“No, outside.”

He nods. “I thought so. Do you still ride the black horse . . . Thunder?”

The kid remembers everything.

“Yes,” I admit. “We’ve been together a long time.”

“He’s your favorite,” he says.

“He is. And Lucky too.” I tuck my finger in my belt loop. “I have a lot of favorites, I guess. But Thunder and Lucky are extra special.”

We head outside to the paddocks. Horses lift their heads as we pass—ears pricked, tails swishing. Linc stops every few steps to take pictures on his phone, zooming in on one of our roan mares, then Old Grey, the gelding who ambles toward the fence hoping for treats. Lucky trots over, hoping for the same.

“Can I pet him?” Linc asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “Just slow.”

He reaches out gently. Lucky sniffs his fingers, then nudges his palm.

Linc lights up.

“This is amazing,” he says quietly. “Mom, look!”

Iris steps beside him, smiling, but her voice is tight when she says, “He’s a pretty one, isn’t he?”

Her eyes shift in my direction for a split second. I pretend I don’t notice.

Because if I notice, then I think about the way she used to look at me when we were young and stupid and thought we had the whole world ahead of us. The way we rode Lucky together on the nights she couldn’t sleep.

And then I almost forget the night that ended it.

I will not go there.

Charlie finally comes out of the office near the gym, waving papers. She freezes when she sees Iris.

“Hi, Ms. Charlie!” Linc says.

Charlie’s face brightens. “Hey, Linc. Maverick didn’t tell me you were coming today.”

She gives me a pointed look. She’s right to—I should’ve prepared her.

“I’m going to be coming every day,” he says proudly. “To feed the horses.”

“Oh,” Charlie says in surprise. “Well, that’s great.”

There’s an awkward pause as no one says anything.

“Well, I’m glad you’ll be at camp again this year. You were a big help last year,” Charlie says.

She glances at Iris and clears her throat.

“This shouldn’t take long,” she tells her. Her tone is cooler. We’ve all lived with the hand Iris dealt us. “We can go into the office,” Charlie says. “It’ll make it easier to get this done.”