Impulsion (Station 32 #1)(17)

“What’s she talking about?” Wyatt asked under his breath as Harley dismounted and they began to walk back to the barn so the next lessons could come in. If it were any other day, she would have stayed in the ring with those riders, but when Danny Boy had an off day Camille would not let him in the ring with the smaller hoses, the newer riders.

“My dad wants him with me at school. He doesn’t think I’ll make it back here as much for the next few years.”

“You mean after next summer, right?”

Harley looked away, then down, trying to hide the tears that were welling in her eyes.

“That’s why, isn’t it? You’re not ready…you just think it’s our last chance.”

She didn’t have a chance to respond; Ava was at her side, asking how her ride went, if she really fell off.

It was hours later when she was leading in the rescue horses from the back paddock with both Wyatt and Truman that she had a chance to dare a response to that question that had been lingering in her mind.

She knew Wyatt was mad, hurt, and he had no cause to be. At first she, too, thought maybe that was her reason, but the more she thought about it, she realized it was more of a confirmation that the time was right. If they had a thousand summers left, she would still want to connect with him that way, mark her life with the essence of him.

“That’s not why,” she said quietly as she walked down the gravel pathway leading her favorite mare, Stolen Heart.

Truman was in the next field, trying to catch the last mare.

“You’ve been tense, skittish all summer. I thought you just had a bad spring, that your mom was giving you hell. You dealt with this alone.”

“What good would it do for us both to fear the end of this summer?”

“What good would it do?” he nearly shouted. In a lower voice, he said, “Harley, I see no divide between you and me. Your problems are mine. You blocked me out. Now we have no time.”

“Time for what? This changes nothing but the fact that you know that it’s going to be harder for the next little while.”

“For the next few years,” he said with a locked jaw. “We could have done something, plotted, planned an escape, anything.”

“I’m going to work it out. A million things can happen between now and next summer.”

“When were you going to tell me? When the trailer rolled up in the barn driveway?”

“Before.”

“Before what?”

She looked away, trying to hide the pain in her eyes. She felt his hand lace through hers, the leather of the lead ropes brushing against their flesh. “Harley, if I knew, I would have done whatever I could to make you stronger—not only enough to deal with your mother, but to ride Danny Boy, to keep you safe. I was taking my time, letting you find your own way so you would never forget, but if I knew we were out of time, I would have—I would have done something.” He squeezed her hand. “If they were already going to rip us apart, I wouldn’t have walked on glass; I would have stolen more time.”

Her eyes met his, fell deep within. “No distance or time is ever going to change the way I feel about you. I wanted this summer to be perfect, and it has been. I don’t want to fight. I forget about it when we’re together, when I feel this, when I know that it’s strong enough to face whatever test we’re given…don’t take that away from me.”

He squeezed her hand and pulled the horse he was guiding closer, long enough that it shielded him, giving him enough time to bring her hand to his lips. Before having no other choice than to let it go, he heard his brother open the gate and start to make his way on the path they were on. “I’m not going anywhere, Harley. I will always be your safe place.”

The next few days, it was hard to get away at night. It seemed like both Camille and Beckett stayed up later than usual, either that or Ava constantly had friends spending the night. But finally one night, the house was asleep by eleven.

Harley locked her room door, and for good measure she moved the pillows on her bed to make it look like she was lying there. She then climbed out her window onto the balcony, moved her legs over it, and began to scale down. Wyatt was on the ground, bracing to catch her if she fell, even though he knew she had done this too many times to slip.

He took her hand, and they disappeared into the shadows. The four-wheelers and Jeep were too loud to use this late at night, but the golf cart was nice and quiet. Wyatt had parked one by the edge of the fence, and they climbed in and made their way to the creek. The entire way, Harley’s heart was racing. They hadn’t spoken about any end or crossing any line since their fight, if you could even call that a fight.

She had no idea what to expect as he laid out the blanket on the bank of the creek; that was their normal routine. The sounds of nature were screaming around them, and the stars were thick above them.

She lay her head on his shoulder, just as she had done a million times before.

“How long does she want to keep you abroad?” he asked finally.

Harley had gone round and round with her mother about her future—well, at least she would always find an excuse not to take the path she wanted her to.

“A summer was the last I heard.”

“What was it before that?”

“She wanted me to take at least a semester over there.”