Page 129 of Sinful
"Come with me," he says, taking my hand.
We walk to the cabin and sit on the porch steps watching the horses in the paddock.
"Phantom gave us this," I say.
"I know. He told me." Bravos pulls me against his side. "What do you think?"
"I think it's perfect. I think we could be happy here."
"Yeah. We could."
We sit in silence as the sun sinks lower.
"I can see us here," I say finally. "After tomorrow. After all this is over. Mornings on this porch. You coming home from runs. Me working at that garage. Building something real."
"Kids maybe," he says quietly. "Someday. If you want."
My chest tightens. "Yeah. Someday."
"Growing old together. Yelling at each other about whose turn it is to feed the horses we'll probably end up getting because you'll insist we need them."
I laugh, tears burning my eyes. "That sounds perfect."
"Yeah. It does."
The future feels tangible. Real. Something we could actually have if tomorrow goes right.
If he comes back.
When he comes back.
He has to come back.
We go back to his bunk as darkness falls.
Tomorrow he rides at 4 AM. Which means we have tonight. Just tonight. Then everything changes.
We lie in the narrow bed, tangled together, neither of us sleeping until hours pass and we’re too exhausted to stay awake.
I wake at 3:30 AM.
Bravos is still asleep beside me, face peaceful in the darkness.
His alarm will go off in thirty minutes.
Then he rides to war.
But right now, at this moment, he's here. He's safe. He's mine.
I memorize his face—the line of his jaw, the way his hair falls across his forehead, the scar above his left eyebrow I never asked about.
Store it away for tomorrow when I'll be here waiting, praying, hoping he comes back to me.
The alarm hasn't gone off yet.
We still have thirty minutes.
I hold onto that.
