Page 9 of Shadows of Obsession

As the demonstration drew to a close, I watched nods of approval and firm handshakes being exchanged. A sale, probably. The couple looked thrilled, and Connor looked... satisfied. Proud. The trio made their way back toward the barn's office, their voices carrying faintly on the breeze, though I couldn't make out the words.

Chester nudged my hand with his nose, and I glanced down at him.

"All right, all right. I get it."

Curiosity propelled me down the stairs, Chester's nails clicking on the hardwood behind me. The house was quiet, peaceful in a way that made my chest ache. No footsteps I needed to track. No doors slamming. No sudden silences that meant danger.

Just... quiet.

The kitchen was a study in modern elegance. Sleek surfaces, gleaming appliances, everything perfectly placed. It stood in stark contrast to the rugged beauty of the ranch outside, but somehow it worked. A glass sliding door led to a covered porch, and I could picture it: summer evenings, friends gathered around a grill, laughter floating on warm air scented with barbecue smoke.

The memory of the life I'd lost, the social ease that was impossible with Daniel, made me wistful. I shook the thought away and kept exploring. The side door beckoned, and with Chester trotting faithfully by my side, I stepped out into the golden warmth of the sun that hit the porch.

The light hit my face, and I closed my eyes, tilting my head back to feel it. The crisp morning air filled my lungs, sharp and clean and so impossibly fresh that I felt like I could breathe properly for the first time in months.This is what peace feels like.

In the distance, an older barn caught my attention. Its weathered exterior spoke of years of use, of storms weathered and seasons passed. It was nothing like Connor's pristine main barn. This one was utilitarian, practical. Real.

I started walking toward it, drawn by the gentle sounds of horses grazing somewhere beyond. As I got closer, I could see the pasture behind the barn and the silhouettes of several horses dotting the field.

Something tugged at the edges of my mind. Something familiar.

My steps slowed as I approached the fence, squinting against the sun to get a better look at the horses. They were too far away to make out clearly, but there was something about them, the way that bay held its head. The dappled gray's stance.

No. That's impossible.

But the feeling persisted, urging me forward. My hand found the gate latch before I'd even decided to open it. The metallic click echoed in the stillness, and several of the horses turned their heads toward me, ears pricked forward.

I stepped inside, and suddenly they were moving toward me, their expressions curious and—

Oh my God.

My heart slammed against my ribs as recognition hit me like a physical blow. These weren't just any horses.

These were Sam's horses.

I stood frozen, rooted to the spot as they approached. The bay with the white blaze—that was Jasper, Sam's first horse. And the dappled gray—Scout, the one she'd trained from a yearling. And there, hanging back slightly, was Molly—the sweet chestnut mare who'd been Sam's confidence builder.

Sam's horses. Connor had Sam's horses.

A whirlwind of emotions crashed over me. Grief, sharp and fresh as the day I'd gotten the news she’d been killed; gratitude that Connor had taken them in, given them a home; and beneath it all, a bittersweet ache that tightened my throat.

Sam should be here. She should be the one standing in this field, greeting these horses. Not me.

My eyes burned, and I pressed a hand to my chest, a silent plea echoing in my mind:God, Sam. I miss you so much.

The sound of footsteps behind me made me jump, my heart rate spiking before I recognized Connor's gait. He joined me in the pasture, his presence steady and comforting as he reached out to stroke Jasper's neck.

"I wasn't sure how to tell you," Connor said, his voice gentle but uncertain. "You fell asleep upstairs after I left yesterday, or else I would've brought you out here myself."

I couldn't find the words. My throat was too tight. Instead, I nodded and reached out to touch Scout's soft muzzle.

Then it hit me.

My gaze swept across the field, counting heads—Jasper, Scout, Molly, two others I recognized from shows. But—

"Where's Choco?" The words came out sharper than I intended, edged with panic.

Choco. My boy. The spirited Arabian–Quarter Horse mix who'd been my partner, my soulmate, my best friend on four legs. The one I'd had to leave behind when I ran. The one whose absence had hurt almost as much as leaving Sam.