Page 116 of Captivated

“Yes. No. Well, on it.” When Sol didn’t respond, Nate blurted, “I feel guilty about that.”

Sol frowned. “Why?”

Nate swallowed. “It… it feels like I’m… using him. The thing is, I sleep better when he’s there. When he’s… holding me.” He stared at Sol, his stomach clenching. “Is Zeeb just a crutch? Am I being selfish?”

Sol lapsed into silence for a moment, and Nate’s pulse quickened. Then Sol leaned back into his chair. “I understand your motives in asking him to stay. But I think there’s another motive you might have overlooked. Or maybe even intentionally ignored.”

Nate blinked. “And what’s that?”

Sol looked him in the eye once more. “You like it. You fall asleep in a man’s arms—something I’m guessing you’ve never done before—and you like how it feels. And while yes, that might be selfish, there’s something else you need to take into consideration.” He smiled. “Zeeb must like it too. He doesn’t say no, does he?”

Nate expelled a slow breath.

Sol nodded. “So to answer your original question, I think you’re experiencing a breakthrough because of your accumulated experiences of therapy, your own emotional readiness to heal, and what I like to call new relational dynamics. All of which has brought you to a pivotal moment. The equine therapy might have been what brought you to Salvation, but recovery is a multifaceted thing. Combine that therapy with those elements I just mentioned, and…” He tilted his head to one side and smiled. “Does that make sense?”

Nate returned his smile. “Yes.” It really did. All the pieces locked into place, allowing him to see the whole.

And will all those pieces makemewhole?Something Nate hadn’t been for such a long time.

“So my next question is this.” Sol’s steady gaze locked on his. “Where do you go from here? What will you do with all you’ve learned?”

Nate thought for a moment. “I guess I need to keep moving forward.”

Sol’s smile lit up his face. “A good answer.” He picked up his cup. “Not much time left before you leave. What will you do with it?”

Nate already knew the answer to that.

Spend as much of it as I can with the horses—and Zeeb.

Especially Zeeb.

Chapter Thirty-Two

July 26, 2024

Nate was tornbetween enjoying the campfire and regretting what had to follow it. He hadn’t packed his bags yet: that could wait until the morning before breakfast.

Forget about tomorrow. Enjoy tonight.

Teague had set up the campfire on a patch of ground away from the barns, but within walking distance. The location had obviously been used for campfires before. Four huge tree trunks, sawn clean at both ends, were arranged in a square around the fire. Lanterns stood at intervals, but the light from the fire was enough to illuminate the faces of the men sitting around it.

The wind stirred through the grass like a whisper, playing with the flames, brushing the edges of the world with a hush that hinted of rain yet to come. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and roasting meat, the crackle of the fire adding to the sound of birds calling in the night. Shadows danced longand loose across the ground. The stars were hidden behind the clouds that had rolled in.

Increasingly denser clouds.

Zeeb said there was a storm coming.It seemed the weathermen’s forecast had been accurate.

Nate sat on a log, the warmth of the fire brushing his shins, a paper plate balanced on his knees, all but forgotten. Around him, laughter spilled out, raw and raucous, the kind that always felt just shy of rude but never quite crossed the line. Teague, Walt, and Paul were knee-deep in some bawdy tale about a bull, a busted fence, and Matt’s questionable ability to run in boots. Nate was only half-listening.

His attention was focused elsewhere.

Across the fire, Robert had an arm lazily draped over Toby’s shoulder, their hands intertwined. Now and then, their eyes met and they smiled. Sol and Butch were sharing a blanket, their legs tangled as if they’d done it every night of their lives.

They don’t care who sees them. This is a safe space.

Nate let the laughter roll over him, his gaze wandering. To his left, close but not close enough to touch, Zeeb sat with his elbows on his knees, a toothpick at the corner of his mouth and a long-limbed stillness Nate had come to associate with him.

He looks lost in thought.