Page 51 of Captivated

Nate hesitated, then nudged Sorrel forward. The horse responded immediately, smooth and willing.

Zeeb watched Nate’s expression. No fear this time, but a little concentration, a little joy.

Good.

But as Nate circled around again, Zeeb caught a look, fleeting, but there. The smile he’d been wearing faltered, if only for a breath. As though the past had walked up behind him and whispered in his ear.

What demons are chasing you?

Nate walked Sorrel into the stable, but instead of leaving him in his stall, he stood next to the horse, stroking his mane, telling him what a good job he’d done. Sorrel was still warm under his hand, and the stable felt calm. The air smelled like hay and dust and horses, and there was something steadying about it. Like the world wasn’t going to break open under him.

It feltsafe.

Nate rubbed Sorrel’s neck, slow and rhythmic, and the motion soothed him.

“You like him,” came Zeeb’s voice from the other side of the stall door.

Nate flinched, not badly, but enough. He hadn’t heard Zeeb come in. “Yeah, I do.”

Zeeb leaned on the post, his arms folded. “Didn’t mean to spook you.”

“It’s fine.” Nate knew he’d spoken quickly.

Too quickly, perhaps.

Silence fell, but for once it was comfortable. Zeeb said nothing.

He never pushes.

Nate hated how that made him want to say something.

“He listens,” Nate said at last, his hand stilling on Sorrel’s neck. “The horse, I mean. He doesn’t pretend to, he just… does.”

Zeeb nodded. “That’s a gift, you know. Most folks listen to answer. Horses just listen to feel.”

Nate swallowed. “People say they care. That they’re helping. But they don’t see you. They just want you to fit back in the right shape.”

His voice shook a little at the end.

That was too much. I shouldn’t have said it.

Zeeb didn’t react, at least not in the way Nate feared. No pity in those expressive eyes. No leaning in.

“Sounds as if someone tried to put you in the wrong shape.” There was no pity in Zeeb’s voice either, and he didn’t move from his spot.

Nate didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

But he didn’t run either.

Because this was Zeeb, and being around him made Nate feel safe.

Something in Zeeb wanted to ask what shape someone had tried to force Nate into. All his instincts told him Nate wasn’t ready totalk yet, but he was reaching, and Zeeb would be damned if he misstepped and scared him off.

We’ve gotten this far. Don’t fuck it up.

“You did good today,” Zeeb observed.

Nate glanced at him. “Really?”

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