Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
“Okay,” she says again, unfazed.
“You have anything to ask me?” I look at her, waiting.
“Yeah,” she answers, and I’m waiting for her to ask me if I like Lilah. If Lilah is going to be sleeping in my bed. But instead, I see her fighting not to smile. “When can I go fast”—I groan—“like Lilah?”
Chapter Twenty-Five
LILAH
My head is down, and I’m reading what I just wrote when I hear the sound of my name being shouted. “Lilah!” Lucy says it as she comes in from the back where the barn is instead of coming from the front door like she always does. I look over toward where her voice was last heard and see her walking in with the biggest smile on her face. “Lilah.” She runs over to my desk. “Lilah, guess what?” she chirps, her voice so animated I can’t help but laugh at her.
“What?” I ask and look over her shoulder at her father, who is walking into the room but stops at the doorjamb and leans against it. His feet are crossed at his ankles, while one of his hands holds a brown bag. His hair is pushed back by his fingers, and my mouth waters at the same time that my fingers itch to touch his hair. Something I did all night long because he was either on top of me or his head was between my legs. The memories are now making another part of me perk up.
“I rode a horse today,” she announces with all the excitement. “It was Rosy.”
I smile at her. “How was it?”
“Amazing.” She opens her arms to the sides. “But”—she looks over at Emmett—“he wouldn’t let me go fast.”
I roll my lips not to snort out laughing. “You have to start slow,” I say. “Step one is getting on the horse”—she watches me—“and earning Rosy’s trust before you can go fast.”
“I’m going to ride her every day,” she declares. “Will you come with me next time?”
“You bet,” I say. “We can ride her after school.”
“Yes,” she cheers. “We also brought you lunch.”
“Did you?” I ask as she turns and walks back to Emmett to get the bag from him.
“We can’t eat with you,” she says as she hands me the bag, “because you have to do your homework.” I smile at her as I take the bag from her. “I got you a sweet treat,” she says, whispering but not really whispering.
“Thank you,” I say, and then my eyes fly to Emmett.
“Come on, Lucy. Let’s go so Lilah can get back to work.” He motions with his head. “Time to show you how to muck the stalls.”
“Gross,” she mumbles, “Wyatt told me it stinks.” Her nose goes up, and her face grimaces a disgusted look.
“It does.” I mimic her face. “But that’s what you have to do when you love your animal.”
“I guess,” she concedes as she walks toward Emmett.
“Let me know if you’ll be joining us for dinner,” he says, and I look down at the document.
“I might be late. You should eat without me. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”
“Got it. I’ll leave the door open,” he says. I want him to come to me and kiss me. Pull my head back so I can look up at him and kiss my lips. I swallow down the words and don’t ask him to come kiss me, watching him turn and walk away with Lucy by his side.
I close my eyes and open the bag, taking out the wrap they got for me. “Focus,” I remind myself.
I turn my eyes back to the thesis I’m doing about understanding equine-assisted psychotherapy and horse-healing relationships with PTSD. I get up a couple of times to pee, and to get myself some water. The sun goes down, and the only light in the office is from my computer. My eyes start to burn when I finally decide to call it a night. Getting up and stretching, I feel the achiness in my lower back. I save my work before shutting down my computer and heading out the back door toward my truck. The only sound in the air is the sound of the crickets coming from the forest, looking to see even the lights in Charlie’s house are off.
I make my way over to Emmett’s house, noticing the house is dark, except for the soft light by the front door. Walking up the steps, I turn the handle and open the door. The front entry is in darkness almost, a soft light coming from the family room shines all the way to the front door.
I kick off my shoes and quietly walk inside, stopping when I see him lying on the couch watching television in the dark. The light from the stove adds to the light from the television, allowing me to see him. “Hey,” I say softly.