Page 40 of Captivated

As if he didn’t know.

Nate glanced at him, his expression unreadable. “Fine.”

Zeeb bit back a sigh. Even after two days, he knew enough to recognize that was Nate in a word: fine.

He’s always ‘fine.’

Even when he wasn’t.

Especially when he wasn’t.

“About that riding lesson…” Zeeb placed the insulated bag on the porch, then straightened. “You don’t have to do it today if you’re not ready. We can take more time.”

“I said I’d try,” Nate replied, his voice low. “I keep my word.”

Zeeb studied him for a moment. The words weren’t stubborn so much as resigned. As though trying was the only thing left between him and giving up completely.

“Tell you what. I’ll leave you to enjoy your breakfast, and then we’ll see how you feel.”

Nate blinked. “You think I’m going to change my mind?”

Zeeb sighed. “No, I think you had a bad night. So if you decide you wanna spend the day in bed, or in that chair, that’s your choice. No one’ll think badly of you.”

Nate stared at him. “I didn’t realize it showed.” He swallowed. “Yeah, I had a bad night. A nightmare I couldn’t get out of.”

Zeeb gave him what he hoped was a sympathetic glance. “That sucks. Like I said, let’s see how you feel after you’ve eaten.”He inclined his head toward the bag. “Matt’s made his home fries this morning. I guarantee you’ll eat every last one.”

“That good, huh?”

He grinned. “You wait and see.” And with that, he left Nate to his breakfast.

As he drove back to the bunkhouse, the idea of Nate tortured by nightmares occupied his thoughts.

What waits for you in your dreams, Nate?

Zeeb leaned against the fence, arms crossed, watching the quiet figure standing by the gate. Nate was every inch the skittish colt, looking as if he might bolt at any second. His shoulders were rigid, his eyes shadowed beneath the brim of the hat Zeeb had given him. Even now, Zeeb could see the tremor in Nate’s hand when he reached to adjust it. Not from fear of the horses—at least, Zeeb didn’t think that was the case—but from something deeper.

Something from his nightmare, perhaps.

Something buried.

Sorrel was already saddled and waiting, so calm he could’ve been mistaken for a statue if not for the occasional flick of his tail.

“So we’re doin’ this?”

Nate nodded.

Sorrel snorted, drawing Nate’s attention. He focused on the animal, and Zeeb realized Nate had synchronized his breathing with Sorrel’s, slow and even.

“You said he’s calm, right?” Nate asked, breaking the silence.

“Calmest I’ve ever seen,” Zeeb said. “And smart. Picks up on moods quick.”

“Great,” Nate muttered. “He’ll know I’m a mess in thirty seconds.”

Zeeb chuckled. “He might. But he won’t judge you for it.”

Nate didn’t answer. He stepped forward slowly, his hand brushing Sorrel’s neck. The horse turned his head, nuzzling into the touch. Nate’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and Zeeb had the impression Sorrel’s tiny act of trust had undone him. There was a flicker of something soft in Nate’s eyes, gone as quickly as it came, but Zeeb had seen it.