Pieces of a Mending Heart (8 page)

             
He laughs, sounding light. “You do remember how small this town is, right?”

             
I laugh too, smiling at the sound of his. “I could never forget. You can come over whenever you want,” I say, sounding like a school girl again.

To my surprise, he agrees to be over in ten minutes. We hang up with a casual “see you soon!” and I am in panic mode.
             
What
was I thinking? I wasn’t, that’s the problem. Maybe I didn’t make this decision at all; I’ve been a big believer in fate of late, as would be acceptable given th
e circumstances, but terror still shoots up my spine.

             
PANG! The actual fear hits me like thousands of icicle tips, pricking at my skin with their cold points. I clutch my stomach, warding off the fear with thoughts of David, Tristan’s eyes, and the
Montana landscape. Before I know it, the feeling i
s gone, having left a cool, unco
mfortable sting behind. There i
s a knock on the door, sending my heartbeat into frenzy.

             
I take
a deep breath and p
ull
my hair around
to the front of
my neck to frame my face. Lifting my chin higher and pulling
my shirt sleeves down, I open
t
he door. Tristan looks striking in
a
black
button-down long-sleeve shirt hanging open over a white
t-shirt that graces his torso while
dark jeans and black boots cover his lower half. His smile is the most dazzling of all; brightening his blue ey
es and making them shine. I feel my temperature rise and blink
a few times, trying to get a grip on myself.

             
“Good afternoon,” he says, voice dripping with happi
ness but still so sexy. I lick
my lips without thinking.

             
Eyes never leaving his, I say, “You too. Want to hit the trails immediately or have a snack first?” I ask.

             
He purses his perfect lips, making mine tingle in an unfamiliar way. I bite my lower lip, forcing it to stop behaving so ridiculously. “Why don’t we go for a different type of hike… save
ourselves the walk
,” he says
, raising his eyebrows, voice suspiciously innocent.

             
I raise my left eyebrow, showing my confusion. Tristan smiles and laughs at my expression. “Come on, I can tell you need a little peace and quiet,” he says, cocky grin morphing into a sad little smile.

             
Still confused, I shrug, stepping out into the sunlight. I don’t care where we go or what we do, as long as Tristan is with me. I feel an unfamiliar sensation in my right hand; one that is sending scream-like signals to my haze-filled brain to reach for Tristan’s hand, but I refuse to make him uncomfortable. Besides, I don’t want to push him away by alerting him of my strange feelings or conflicting thoughts… being his friend is better than nothing, so I’m content with just being by his side.

             
To my shock, I feel warm f
ingers caressing mine, teasing
and testing. He’s seeing if I’m okay with him holding my hand, and my body responds before I have time to consider the consequences. I lock my fingers with his, smiling as I feel his palm press against my own.
From the corner of my eye, I see
his lips lift in a discreet smile.

             
We walk
down the front stairs, reveling in the beautiful scenery. T
ristan was probably used to the
beauty, but I still find myself stunned by the picturesque terrain. Not wanting to break the silence, I let him lead me in the opposite direction of the road.

“Where are we going?” I ask after a few moments of peaceful silence, unable to control my curiosity any longer.

He looks at me with a mischievous gleam in his light eyes, a look I haven’t seen before. “For a ride,” is all he says.

My footsteps halt, stopping Tristan as well. “I don’t know how to ride a horse! Isn’t there something less
…
adventurous that would appeal to you?” I say, attempting to joke, but the serious undertone is obvious.

Tristan just continues to walk, pulling me with him by my hand. Our fingers have stayed locked since we left the house, and I’m in no rush to move them. If riding a horse would
force us to separate, I refuse
to go along with his plan.

About ten minutes later, we climb over a hill and I see
the barn, the closest I’d come to it since I’ve been here. Suddenly, a question pops into my mind. “How did you know Rachel has horses?”

He raises his eyebrows and slows our pace slightly. “She’s never menti
oned me?” he asks, voice laced
with shock and worry.

Tristan keeps his gaze centered on the ground in front of us, probably trying to avoid any tumbles onto the ground. “No, she hasn’t,” I answer slowly.

I hear a sound that seems like a grunt, but more like a hum, coming from Tristan. “Well, I’ve ridden one of her horses- Dino- before. Quite a lot actu
ally. I’m kind
of
surprised she has never mentioned me,” he says, disbelieving.

Suddenly irritated
with my aunt
for not bringing up the beautiful boy that rides her horses, I force the frustration down and try to enjoy the moment, which isn’t difficult to do.

“Her and I are still… coping, with living together,” is all I reply. I’d give details if he asked me to; hell, I’d tell him my whole story if I didn’t think he’d run for the hills.

He nods, looking deep in thought. “I don’t know much about you, Kat
herine
. I get the sense that you don’t want to open your life up to everyone, but I’m not everyone. You know you can trust me, right?” I feel him squeeze my hand.

I attempt to smile slightly, but can’t. He pulls me closer to his side, so close that our shoulders touch and our legs almost brush together as we walk. I feel instantly calm, ready to tell him anything he wants to know.

The old me would’ve been mortified to be walking hand in hand with a boy like Tristan; a boy who is not only beautiful, but
dangerously compelling. I no longer refer to my ancient happy-self as the “old me”; I refer to the closed off, suicidal, and miserable girl as the old me. Something inside me sings at this revelation, and I’m stunned I have made such progress. I send a silent “thanks” up to the man who made it all possible.

After ten more minutes of leisurely walking, we stand at the open door of the large red barn. The smell is immediate, but I find it oddly homey instead of being repulsed. Tristan pulls m
e into the structure behind him
as he turns his head from side to side, searching.

He gives my hand a squeeze before he releases it. After being hand-in-hand for so long, the cool air on my warm fingers feels wrong and unwelcome. I frown, but turn my face away so he won’t see it. I hear footsteps, Tristan’s, as he rounds the corner on the opposite side of the barn. I follow him, unsure of what to do.

“Here we go,” he says, grunting as he heaves a saddle off the wall. Instead of handing it to me, he slings it over his arm as he grabs a second one.

“Tristan, I wasn’t kidding about not knowing how to ride
,” I say
in one last stitch effort to save myself from the embarrassment of potentially falling off a horse. My voice is laced with fear, and I feel it start to prickle up my body, from my toes to the tips of my hair.

Fear is one of the worst
emotions
I was forced to be
overly
subjected to. It makes my heart beat uncomfortably fast, and my hands shake. Not wanting Tristan to see my over-reaction, I put my hand to my forehead as I take deep breaths, warding off the encompassing feeling.

To my surprise, I feel a hand gras
p my wrist lightly. Immediately the painful fear is gone,
replaced with warmth that is lightening. I sigh, loudly. I open my eyes to find Tristan standing close to me, eyes filled with what looks like panic. I’m unsure what to think of this, but then he closes his eyes briefly and when he opens them seconds later, the fear is gone.

“It’ll be alright, trust me. You’re probably a natural, being Rachel’s niece,” he says comfortingly. “If you really don’t want to, we can do something else. This is the best kind of therapy, though… trust me on this,” his eyes beg, tempting me.

Although I should say no, peer-pressure and all,
I t
rust him inexplicitly, so I nod.

“If you’re scared, we can share Dino. He’s really gentle, my favorite,” Tristan says, leading me out the back door of the empty barn. I wonder for the first time where the horses are.

There is a small room in the barn, separated from the stalls and bags of feed and hay barrels. It’s more like spare space, having no walls or door. But the tiny area isn’t bare; there’s a small couch,
bed, and a desk by the large window, overlooking the hill we just climbed. The bed looks like the sheets are fresh, but perfectly neat, showing no signs of anyone sleeping in it. Curious… but, then again, Aunt Rachel seems like the type to have a plan-B for any rendezvous she might have.

We exit the barn through two large, open doors and into a beautiful green pasture. The sun glints off the red of the barn, making the color so bright it hurts my eyes. The grass waves in the ligh
t breeze, in desperate need of
cutting. The pasture isn’t large; the fence extending maybe three-hundred feet in all four directions, but the allure is not dimmed by the size. Perhaps I will one day get used to the beauty of this state’s country, but I hope it won’t be any day soon.

The breeze pushes my hair back from my neck, exposing its pale surface to the blazing sunlight. Emerging from the dark barn into this magnificent sunlight is like awakening from a nightmare, just more real.

             
Tristan watches my face as I take in the scenery, a small smile playing on his lips. I avert my gaze from the landscape and focus on the horses grazing in the pasture, looking shiny and strong in th
eir element. The black one
is the most stunning animal I have ever seen.

             
“The black one is Dino. Watch this,” Tristan says, releasing my hand and holding up the saddle. He jingles a bell that is
hanging from the side of the leather patch on the side of the riding instrument, and Dino’s head snaps up instantly. He waits for a moment; Tristan jingles the bell again and Dino races towards the gate while the other horses continue with their snacking.

             
I laugh, unable to hold in the sound of elation. We run over to the gate and I find myself suddenly filled with excitement. Tristan looks at me cockily, which makes my smile wider.

             
“Trained him myself,” he says, unhooking the lock on the gate and pulling me to his side. Backing us up as he pulls the gate open, Tristan makes a clicking sound with his tongue.

             
Dino walks out of the pasture, head high and trotti
ng excitedly towards the barn.
Tristan shuts the gate and, wit
h a gentle click, locks it back
into place. He picks up the saddle, which he had set on the ground, and we walk over to Dino.

             
I’m struck by the grace of the animal; even in stillness, it has a radiant glow that would make anyone awestruck. His black coat, so black it looks
midnight
blue, is shiny and completely clean; his tail is long and knot-free, and his mane is French-braided, looking beautiful. The horse is possibly the most
exquisite
creature on the planet.

             
“Beautiful, isn’t he?” says Tristan, lovingly stroking the horses thick, muscular neck. “This braid is really killing his badass looks, though,” he jokes.

             
I revoke my earlier statement; Dino is not the most
exquisite
creature. Tristan, however, is. I watch carefully as he puts the saddle on Dino with ease, obviously skilled and knowing. Before I can comprehend the deftness of his movements, Tristan is straddled on the secured saddle. He holds out his hand to me, leaning down from atop the large horse.

             
“Ready?” he asks, face bursting with happiness.

             
I couldn’t have refused in a million years. My knight in shining armor was, literally, swooping me off
of
my feet and riding away with me into the sunlight. I laugh out loud at the cliché thought, chastising myself for thinking such girlish thoughts.

I grasp his hand and he instructs me on what to do. Placing my left foot in the stirrup, I grasp his hand tighter as my right one clamps onto the saddle, pulling. Suddenly, I’m practically floating through the air, my leg swinging around instinctively and resting on the opposite side of the horse.