Page 96 of Darkened Promises

“You brought food?” Max leans over the fence, trying to reach for Bry’s cooler bag, but Bry pulls it away from Max’s grabbing fingers.

“Not without washing those hands,” Bry admonishes, taking a step back.

Rosy chuckles. “We’re almost finished cleaning out their beds, then we can stop to eat whilst it dries. The small area of grass by the pony field is nice. I’ll grab something for us to sit on.”

Max whines, making large puppy dog eyes. “We should eat it now, in case it goes cold. We don’t want all that hard work Bry put in go to waste. Maybe I should go taste test it for you,” he declares, taking a step forward, but Rosy hooks her finger in his back jean’s pocket.

Bry snorts, tapping the bag with his hand. “It’s a picnic. None of it’s hot. So you can keep working, and we’ll get it set up for you.”

When Rosy starts tugging Max back, I call out, “I can grab the blankets for you. Tell me where and what you need?” Her mouth pops open, and I know she’s going to protest and tell me she can do it. “Please?”

Her jaw snaps shut, and she worries her lip a little. “If you’re sure?” I nod. “In the barn, there’s a rack of rugs for the ponies. You can grab a few of those to lay down. Exterior side on the grass.”

“Wow, this looks so good,” Rosy says.

I look over my shoulder to see her walking over to our set up. Nate’s got his hand wrapped around one of hers, and Max is on her other side with an arm over her shoulder.

“It’s just a picnic,” Bry mutters, the tips of his ears and neck red. “I tried to bring a variety of things for you. Although you look like you’ve been hard at work. Maybe I should’ve brought more?” He looks from the food to Rosy and back.

“It’s enough food. Just ration Max,” Nate scoffs, waiting for Rosy to sit first before he eases down next to her and immediately grabs a plate. Too used to his ways, she doesn’t even try to reach for her own. Already he’s adding things as he asks her, “Anything you don’t want?”

Her head shakes as she leans back on her palms and tips her face up to the warm sunshine. “Nope. Anything I can eat is good for me. Thank you.”

We’re all transfixed, watching her. Nate with a spoon outstretched to scoop up more pasta salad, Max with his hand in the breadsticks, Bry with a bunch of cutlery in his fist, and me with the flask of elderflower juice.

“This feels nice. I can’t remember the last time I had a picnic,” she says quietly, eyes still closed as she basks in the rays.

As if the bubble’s burst, we all drag our gaze away from her to continue our tasks, Rosy none the wiser that we were all gawking at her so openly.

Bry points out all the vegetarian options he’s made for Rosy, and Nate adds a portion of each to her plate until it’s brimming, then hands it to her.

Her eyes widen. “That’s so much, but thank you. It smells and looks amazing,” she praises, then takes a bite of a small pastry. “Oh my God. That’s good. Is it a sausage roll?”

Beaming back at her, Bry nods. “I used the vegetarian sausages as a base, mixed in toasted pine nuts and sage, then added a layer of onion chutney.”

She swallows the bite, then licks her fingers one by one. “Well, I have no idea how to do any of that, but it tastes amazing. It’s a little sweet, it’s nutty, and savoury. You should offer it on your menu.”

It’s easy to pretend the outside world doesn’t exist as we sit together, eating and chatting. At least for a while, and it’s not something I take for granted. Especially when Rosy tips her head back, laughing again at something Max says, and her eyes crinkle as she brings a hand up to wipe an escaped tear. A tear that’s finally not caused by fear, hurt, or frustration.

Heart full and warm, I grab Rosy’s legs and ease off her boots, pulling her socked feet onto my lap so I can push my thumbs into her arches.

She leans back onto her palms, and Nate shuffles behind her, encouraging Rosy to lean against him instead.

“Shitsticks, that feels good. Are you a secret masseuse too?” she asks, blinking at me through hazy eyes.

I laugh, squeezing her ankle softly. “No, who else is?”

“Not a masseuse. Almost was a physio.” Nate snorts, then leans over and selects a cookie. He breaks a piece off and holds it to her lips.

“What? No fair. I’ve asked for one before and you refused,” Max exclaims, pouting briefly, then shoves a scotch egg into his mouth. His left cheek extends, resembling a greedy hamster.

“Rosy needs it.” Nate shrugs and feeds her another piece of the cookie.

“I do too. My back was out for a week,” Max mumbles around his mouthful, then swallows. “I had to go to a stranger.”

“You went to my physio,” Nate quips, his brow rising. He offers Rosy another cookie piece, but she declines so he eats it himself. “After you spent a few days complaining and making it worse.”

“A stranger,” Max repeats, and Rosy giggles.