Page 12 of Shadows of Obsession

I moved through the totes slowly, reading each label. Blankets. Saddle pads. First aid supplies. Show equipment. It was all here. Everything she'd collected over the years, every piece of her life with these horses, preserved and protected.

Then I found it: a tote labeled "Anna's stuff" in Sam's familiar scrawl.

My knees went weak, and I sank onto the old couch against the wall. For a long moment, I just stared at that label, the proof that Sam had thought of me, had separated my things from hers even though we'd often shared equipment.

She knew. Somehow, she knew I'd need this.

With trembling hands, I dragged the tote to the center of the room and opened it.

My saddle sat on top, the leather dull from months of storage. Beneath it were my riding boots—the expensive ones I'd saved for months to buy. My half chaps, worn smooth in all the right places.Choco's preferred bridle, the one with the gentle bit he actually tolerated. And there, wrapped carefully in a soft cloth, my helmet.

Not just any helmet—the one signed by an Olympic rider I'd met at a show three years ago. Sam and I had been starstruck, and the rider had been so kind, so generous with her time. She'd signed both our helmets, told us to keep riding, keep chasing our dreams.

Dreams. I wondered when I had stopped having those.

I lifted the helmet carefully, running my fingers over the signature. Then I got to work.

If I was going to do this, if I was going to ride Choco again, I was going to do it right. I found cleaning supplies in one of the totes and set about restoring my equipment: saddle soap for the leather, polish for the stirrups, a damp cloth for the dusty saddle pad.

My hands moved automatically, muscle memory taking over. This was familiar. This was safe. Just me and the leather, and the rhythmic motion of cleaning, polishing, restoring.

By the time I finished, everything gleamed like new. I slipped into my boots, pulled on my half chaps, and stood. The familiar weight and feel of them settled something deep inside me.

I can do this. I can still do this.

Then reality hit. I couldn't carry all this to the back field, not while also leading a horse who hadn't been ridden in months.

The side-by-side. Connor said I could use it.

I left my equipment in the aisle and headed for the office in the other barn, rapping lightly on the door before peeking inside. Connor and Denny looked up from the paperwork spread across the desk.

"Can I borrow the black side-by-side?" I asked. "The one we used earlier?"

Connor's face broke into a grin. "Absolutely. Keys should be in it already."

"Thanks." I started to close the door, then paused. "And Connor? Thank you. For all of this."

His expression softened. "Anytime, Anna. Anytime."

I loaded my equipment into the vehicle with care, double-checking everything—saddle, bridle, pad, helmet. Good. I was about to start the engine when I realized what was missing.

The girth. Shit.

I jogged back inside, rummaging through the tote until my fingers closed around the familiar strap. "Bingo," I muttered, tossing it into the back of the side-by-side with perhaps more force than necessary.

Get it together, Anna. You've done this a thousand times.

As I drove back toward the field, I noticed trails branching off from either side of the main path, disappearing into the tree line. They looked well-used—inviting. Something to explore later, maybe, when I felt more settled. More sure of myself.

For now, I had one goal: Choco.

I pulled up outside the gate and cut the engine, choosing to approach on foot with just a halter and lead rope. Slow. Careful. He'd been running free for months, and the last thing I wanted was to spook him or make him think this was anything other than his choice.

I clicked my tongue softly, and Choco lifted his head from where he'd been grazing. He moved toward the edge of the field where I stood, his gait easy and unhurried.

That's it, big guy. Come here.

I reached over the fence to stroke his neck, letting him see the halter and lead rope in my other hand. His skin was warm beneath my palm, his pulse strong and steady.