“Hey, squirt.”
“Hi, Hannah.”
She took Allie from her father’s arms and caught the relief in his eyes. He’d lost so much, and she got the sense he was hanging by a thinner thread than usual. “I have some extra horses that need brushing today. Mind if I put your girl to work when she’s finished?”
Allie’s eyes danced with excitement, her father’s with gratitude. He ran his hand through his hair. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She met his gaze with understanding. “Just make sure you stay gone an extra hour.”
As always, they began Allie’s therapy with grooming. Hannah held out an arm, offering as little assistance as possible as Allie balanced on her new prosthetic. They talked and worked. She’d only known Allie a few months, but she loved her.
When Hazel was ready, Lexie supported Allie in the saddle while Hannah fastened the special straps around the girl’s waist and thighs.
“Okay, girlfriend. You ready to ride?”
“Ready.” Allie sat tall and proud, her eyes bright under the bill of the velvet riding helmet. Her grin was wide enough to reveal a tiny gap from her first lost tooth.
Hannah smiled back. After more surgeries than she could count and years of therapy learning to walk again, she knew that joy firsthand. She understood how riding a horse lifted you up, leveled the playing field, and gave you a borrowed strength. Understood the sense of power and confidence. The freedom and fresh air after the stink and general misery of the PT room.
Using Hazel’s steady gait, they spent an hour strengthening Allie’s core and balance, learning to compensate for the part that wasn’t there anymore. When they were finished, Hannah led them across the lower pasture to a strip of trees. She fingered the lead rope loosely in her hand and waited, giving Allie room to talk if she wanted.
The rhythmic steps of hooves on newborn grass and Hazel’s horsey breath joined the sound of trickling water. Sunlight filtered down as they followed a path along a shallow creek that wound its way around three-quarters of the property. It wasn’t a huge piece of land, nothing fancy, but it was her home, her livelihood, and at one time had been her salvation.
“I think maybe I should cut my hair.”
Hannah glanced up at the dark strands hanging in a long ponytail down her back. “Do you want to cut it?”
“I don’t know.” Allie let out a long breath much too weary for such a tiny girl. “It might be easier. My mom used to braid it,” she added softly.
And there was the real problem. She could only imagine the pain in this little girl’s heart. Having a mother, knowing her, then losing her. She wanted to take Allie off the horse, hug her tight and never let go, but she looked up and smiled. “I think your hair would look cute short. You’ve got the face for it. Not everyone does, you know.”
“Do you remember your mom?”
Allie knew Hannah’s mother was dead, they’d covered that common bond on the first day. “No. But I was really little when my parents died, way younger than you,” she assured her. “Practically a baby. But I always had my brothers.” Hannah pointed as they stepped out of the trees. “There’s my bossiest brother now.”
Her oldest brother, Nick, stood leaning against the hood of his SUV, looking like the formidable FBI agent he was. Nick was tall and handsome; his hair was dark brown to her light and he wore the perpetual unshaven look well. It gave him a tough look just short of scary.
He lifted his hand and she waved back. Afraid she couldn’t tell him about Max without crying, she’d texted him. And now he was here, checking on her like he always did. Her brothers had raised her, sacrificed for her. Nick more than any of them.
Lexie met them and took Hazel and Allie into the barn. Hannah turned to find Nick’s cop eyes full of concern. That was the look she couldn’t spend an entire night with.
“I’m okay. I’m sad, but I’m okay.”
Nick said nothing for several seconds, just gave her his I-can-read-your-mind stare. “I talked to Luke and Zach. They’re fine with changing plans tonight.”
“I knew you’d say that.” She headed into the barn to get ready for her next student, leaving Nick to follow. “You don’t need to change your plans.”
“Well, you’re sure as hell not sitting home alone.”
“You’re right. I’m not.” She stepped into the tack room and Nick stopped just outside.
“Really?”
“Yes. Really. You can still have your guy party. I have plans.”
“Plans?”
“Yes.” She looked back at him and smiled. “I can have plans, you know.”
“I know you can, you just…”
“What?” She reached for a piece of support foam. “Never do?
He leaned against the doorway, watching her. “Where are you going?”
“Drinks.”
“With who?”
She stepped around him and moved down the aisle for Big Ben, a small chestnut pony. “A friend.”
“A friend.” He said it full of suspicion and disdain for someone he didn’t know. Big-brother syndrome plus FBI equaled over-the-top.
“I also manage to have friends.” Kind of. She slipped the halter over the pony’s head.
“Where are you going?”
She speared him with a glare over her shoulder.
“Okay. Sorry.” He held up his hands. “But why don’t you and your friend come over to watch the game?”