Page 93 of Things I Read About
My stomach plunges down into the saddle at the sound of my name, which is weird as hell. It’s not as if she hasn’t said it before, she was just screaming it in terror. But just now, it was… the opposite. Like, if I told her she could climb a mountain right now, she’d believe me. It’s a heady thing, the idea that she finds me comforting. Like I am safe, like I’m home. Like, if I said close your eyes and fall, she’d trust me to catch her.
And damn it, I would.
I would run through fire and take on the entire marine arsenal of bullets to catch her.
Which is why I have got to get the hell out of Texas. As soon as possible.
23
Nate is giving me whiplash.
Not in a romantic way—I’m not letting myself go there—but as a friend, as a person.
He laughed. A full, big, open laugh.
I would almost brave that stupid saddle again just to hear him let go some more. And he teased me about mooing at the bear. His voice was kind and gentle during my humiliating melt down. I think he was about to touch me, comfort me. For a minute, it felt like we were back on the mountain.
But as soon as we got off the horses, he was gone again. Hidden behind his gorgeous, stern brow. No longer my friend.
Which needs to be fine. I need to let go of any connection. Nate clearly doesn’t want one to exist between us.
I have other friends. They’re coming tonight, in fact. Mal and Val are in town, and they want to get together. The three of us rarely go out so it should be interesting. I haven’t told Nate about the outing yet.
We came in from morning chores, which led to the late morning horse torture, and then went our separate ways. As always.
I showered, and read, and ate. Now, it’s time to play.
I walk into the library, after a stop by the pantry for a few Kit-Kats, and wonder what Nate thinks about my playing. I stopped playing rock songs for him.
He never mentioned them anyway. He probably never even heard them with his headphones in all the time.
BANG!
What!
My heart feels as if it has stopped. The barn! The animals! I rush to look out the window and see Leonard on the tractor. He’s just dropped the front-end loader down onto concrete. The huge, deep sound was just the tractor.
“Sally!” Nate flies through the room and over to me. “SallySallySally.”
He is… not okay.
When he reaches me, he puts a hand on each shoulder, looking me over. Then he backs up, terrified. He retreats until he hits the bookshelves and he collapses back and down, sliding to the floor.
“Nate?”
“You’re okay.You’reokayYou’reokay.” Nate repeats the phrase over and over like a mantra.
“Nate. It was the tractor. Nate?”
He doesn’t respond.. I’m not sure he can hear right now. Or see, either. His eyes are glassed over and he’s shaking badly. His voice starts to crack on the words he’s repeating. This is clearly a post-traumatic stress disorder episode.
I change my voice and kneel in front of him. “Nate.”
“You’re okay buddy.You’re okay buddy. You’re okay buddy.”His eyes start to mist up.
Zachary. Nate’s remembering the worst moment of his life.
I climb into his lap, straddling him and taking his face in my hands. I pull his earbuds out and set them on the floor.
