Page 53 of Cry, Little Dove

Side by side, we ride slowly through the meadows by the main house, and further out past desolate barns, corrals, stables, and silos. The river serves as our guide, the horses walking along the line of gnarled trees, their roots reaching for the water.

My nose fills with the scent of dusty musk streaming from my black gelding and the fragrance of well-kept leather from the saddle. I enjoy the comfortable silence. Just thudding hooves below and twittering birds above, leaves rustling as they jump from branch to branch.

My body moves with the animal’s rhythm, muscle memory remembering countless hours spent on horseback when I was a boy. I know instinctively what to do. I also know being this outta practice means that my bones will hurt tomorrow, anyway. It’s worth it.

Nostalgia settles like a heavy cloak on my shoulders. I haven’t been out here in forever, but the memories of my childhood hang bittersweet in the warm air. I can almost taste them on the tip of my tongue.

Wild nature has reclaimed the lands I roamed with my dad, but I still remember every overgrown path, even after all these years. I know the gentle hills ahead of us and the rough mountains in the distance like the ridges of my knuckles. Every bend in the river is as familiar as the veins on the backs of my hands. They’re the same sights that inspired the tattoo sleeve on my left arm and the mural in the master bedroom.

“You seem like you were born in the saddle,” Erica says. “Guess you do this often?”

“Naw, it’s been many years since I last went on a ride. I gotta admit, you’re doing pretty well yourself.”

“Am I? I’m trying my best to keep my ass in the saddle, but I think if I went any faster, I’d be in trouble.” She laughs.

“The cowgirl look suits you, too. Hat and boots and all.”

“Why, thank you! I picked them out myself yesterday.” She runs a hand along her hatband, silver ornaments contrasting the black. “I’m glad this little adventure didn’t turn out super awkward. You had me worried back at the house.”

I raise a brow. “Why’s that?”

“You seemed mad.”

Mad?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come across as ungrateful or angry. It was…” I rub a hand along the stubble on my jaw. “A big surprise. A good one. I reckon Mandy put you up to this?”

“No, I came up with the idea, but Amanda helped me to convince the ranch owner. She promised him some free promotion on her channel if he let me borrow the horses.”

My stomach flutters.Erica planned a date for us of her own free will?Thinking about it, this is downright romantic!No.I shake my head, forcing down my excitement. No way she sees this as a date. It’s just her being polite because of the concert, exactly as she said.

I try to relax my tense shoulders and the horse huffs, sensing my anxiety. “You two talked about me, huh?”

Pink scrawls across her face. “A bit.”

What else did Mandy tell her? The last thing I need is embarrassing childhood stories or shadows of the past, dragged from their shallow graves.

“Go on, little dove, tell me what she said.”

“All nice things, I swear!”

I squint at her. “That so? Like what?”

“She said you’re a good man.” The flush on her cheeks darkens.

“Well, she’s wrong about that, ain’t she, darlin’?” I try to catch her gaze, but Erica avoids looking at me, playing with her horse’s mane.

“Not really,” she whispers, almost too quiet for me to hear over the sound of rushing water from the river. “I mean, noteverythingabout you is bad.”

Heat radiates through my chest. I tap my hat and give her a wry smirk. “Appreciate the kind lie, but you don’t have to try and spare my feelings. We both know what I am. You’re the only person who has seen the monster in me.”

And I know sheisafraid of me, like she should be. I’ve given her plenty of reasons to hate me, to be frightened and—

Erica’s eyes widen. “I’mnotlying!”

I choke on my breath.

“I know what you’ve done, Cain. You’ve kidnapped me, you drugged me, and sometimes you scare me to death. But living with you, getting to know you… it’s as if you’re two different men trapped in the same skin, like… like…” She gestures as if she means to pluck the right phrase out of thin air.

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