Page 22 of Beckon

“Hey.” He put his hands up in surrender. “No judgment here. I have a laundry list of things I only learned to do once I had no other option.” Chandler sat up straighter, giving her his undivided attention. There was a reason behind her story, and he didn’t want to miss it. “Go on.”

“Oh, yeah. Well, I was pumping gas and I noticed this homeless man going around and asking everyone for money. So, I reached into the car and grabbed the stash of bills and change I keep in the console. It wasn’t much, but it was something. But when he got to me, he didn’t ask, instead, he extended his other hand to me. He had a bottle of water he must’ve gotten from inside. It was still cold and sealed.”

Her smile at the memory was almost blinding. “There we were in a standoff. Me trying to hand him money and him trying to give me water. Before I could ask him why, he answered my question. He saidThis is all I have but you look like you need someone to care about you. I care, so here, it’s hot out today. He didn’t wait for me to respond. He set the bottle down on the ground and walked away.”

Chandler waited for her to continue, but she didn’t, that was it. That was the story. He was lost.

“That’s an interesting story. What did you do with the water and the money?”

This time her smile was morebless your heart.

“That’s irrelevant. That money meant nothing to me. It was leftover change from drive-throughs. It would make zero impact on my life. But that water, that meant everything to him. It was unusually hot and if he didn’t find more water, it could impact his life greatly. You see, he had virtually nothing to offer. But he had a bottle of water, and even when his need was greater than mine, he gave it to me. Kind of like someone offering to unburden another even when they are so laden down with emotions, they can’t possibly shoulder more.”

Even though she left the,like you, off the end of her story, Chandler heard it.

Tami stood and stretched. “I’m ready to pet some horses. How about you?”

Chandler watched her walk the few steps to the fence. Watching her ass sway wasn’t on his to-do list but he found himself doing just that and thoroughly enjoying it.

It took him way too long to understand the meaning of her story, but when he did, he almost cried. Tami was someone with an emotional depth he didn’t think had a bottom. Just being around her pushed the darkness back.

Chandler hated to admit it, but between her Walmart receipt and gas station homeless man, she was getting to the core of him the way therapists never could.

It was scary as fuck, but he found a craving for it, for her. Something that had started out as a mission he needed to complete before he lost himself or took his own life was becoming something more. Something he couldn’t even fathom.

Did he even dare to dream?

A saddled brown-and-white dapple horse came up to the fence and forced her nose under Tami’s hand. Her laughter was intoxicating.

“Oh my god, Chandler, her nose feels like velvet.” Before he approached them, he pulled out his phone and snapped a picture just as she’d dropped her nose to the horse’s. When he looked down at the picture he was awed. A ray of sun outlined their profiles. Tami and the horse both had their eyes closed like they were enjoying the connection between them.

He wanted to remember that moment forever.

It was the first moment in a long time where he felt he wanted to live more than he wanted to die.

“She’s beautiful,” Tami cooed as she stroked the horse’s mane while keeping their faces as they had been.

Chandler couldn’t agree more.

“Yes, she certainly is, but not half as beautiful as you.” Chandler wasn’t one to pass out compliments or run lines, but the words were out before he could stop them. Tami stiffened slightly before she turned toward him and relaxed. Chandler’s heart flip-flopped when her head dropped slightly, and she tucked a rogue strand of hair behind her ear.

The shadow cast by the brim of her hat hid much of her face, but Chandler knew if he could see, her cheeks would’ve been pink.

“Thank you.” Her words held a note of genuine gratitude.

“No need to thank me for speaking the truth.” He’d taken a step forward, ready to remove her hat and kiss her senseless when they were interrupted.

“Are we ready to ride?”

They turned in unison to find Marta holding the reins of another saddled horse. A solid white-gray mare. Same size as the dapple, but stockier.

Marta opened the gate and led both horses to them. “That is Butterscotch, and it looks like she is quite taken with you, so I guess she’s all yours.”

“Hello again, Butterscotch,” Tami cooed. He found himself watching again as she nuzzled the horse. Transfixed with her joy.

“And this”—Marta nudged his shoulder—“is Betty.” Chandler was unsure what shocked him more, the amusement in Marta’s voice at catching him staring like a loon at Tami. Or the fact that the horse was named Betty.

As he swung up in the saddle, Tami gave voice to his curiosity. “Betty?”

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