by HJ Bellus
“Why does he talk to her?” My question comes out before I realize I even asked it.
“Why is the world round, Hop?” Grandpa replies.
I shrug and stuff my mouth with my buttered biscuit.
“It’s the way the cookie crumbles some times. Do you love him?”
I don’t answer his question.
“I know you love him. Would you give up on a stubborn-ass horse?”
“No, you know that.”
“Then why throw him away.”
I turn to Grandpa. “I haven’t thrown us away. He did the day he came back.”
“He’s hurting and healing. Have patience.”
“It’s not like I’m on a fucking tropical vacation here. Do you know how hard it is to see him daily and not be able to talk to or touch him?”
“I see it in your eyes, Hop.”
“I’m done with this conversation.” I stand and turn for the door.
He catches my wrist before I can storm off. “You’ve been pretty good at running lately. Go back to your roots, Hop. Take him fishing.”
This is the dumbest of all dumb ideas. Even worse than testing out a bucket of gasoline and matches when we were kids. Amos sent the whole haystack up in flames. I clutch the two fishing poles tight to my chest and turn around as soon as I step foot in the barn.
“Whatcha got there, Hop?”
Fuck, he saw me. I turn back to Guy who’s freshly showered pulling on a clean white shirt. Half of his chest is covered in ink while the other half remains bare and pristine. It’s the only sign of the old Guy I loved.
“Fishing poles.” I look into his eyes and whisper the rest. “Two of them.”
“Heading out to our secret spot?”
“No.” I’m quick to answer.
“Then what?”
“Oh you know just thought I’d pack two fucking fishing poles randomly around the ranch. I mean what else are girls my age doing? Seems normal right.”
My lower lip begins to tremble. I bite down on it and then feel the tears spring to life in my eyes. I drop the poles and tackling box and lose it.
“I miss my life. I fucking miss you, Guy Webb. I love you God dammit. I love you so much it hurts.” I swivel on one foot, but before I can run off Guy pulls my back into his chest.
He whispers down into the crook of my neck. “I’d love to go fishing with you to our secret hole. All you had to do was ask.”
“You won’t even look at me. Seems it fucking kills you to just speak one word to me. I just want you back, Guy.”
“That Guy will never come back, Hop, but I’m trying to get my life together. I really am.”
He lets go of me, picks up the tackle and poles before he struts over to Amos’ old truck. He places them in the bed of the truck and then backs it up to our small fishing boat. It hasn’t seen water in well over a year.
When he’s finished hooking it up, he walks back over to me, grabs my hand and leads me to the truck. He’s taking care of me just like he use to when we were kids. It’s a small sliver of the old man.
“Wait.” We both stop in our tracks to look up to my mother rushing across the yard. My dad and grandpa sit on the porch with huge smiles on their faces.
“Here’s dinner and some beverages. Call if you’re too late. I love you kids.” She kisses both of us on our cheeks and scurries right back up to the porch. The three of them watch our every movement.
I stifle back the last few tears before turning to Guy. “Do you feel like kids again?”
He smiles. It’s the first one I’ve seen in a very long time. “I do and it feels good.”
We drive the short distance to the fishing pond in silence. I relish in the giddy feeling of having some normalcy back. Guy and I have never been fishing without Amos, but yet it feels somehow he’s here with us. I’m fearful to talk and destroy this moment.
I grab the cooler and tackle while Guy gets the boat in the water and ties it off to a tree stump. He pulls his white shirt off in a swoop over the back of his head. I study him through my dark sunglasses appreciating the view greatly. His skin has tanned since being home and the new ink adds a level of sexiness to the man. It’s the first time I notice the burns on a part of his back. I have no idea how I ever missed them. Scars of his war.
“Ready?” He asks snapping me out of my trance.
I nod and will my damn legs to work. I expect Guy to hold his hand out to me, but he doesn’t. He keeps one low on his hip and the other one on the stump steadying the boat. Once I’m in and settled, I’m quick to grab the ore to paddle out to the center of the pond. I want to make it so he doesn’t have the chance to run and has to face me.
We both cast our poles out into the pond. The sun is low in the afternoon sky with the threat of it soon setting. I bite my bottom lip rehearsing this conversation over and over in my mind, but when my mouth actually opens to talk it all flies out the window.
“Why do you hate me, Guy?”
My question catches him off guard. He looks at me staring for long moments before opening his mouth. And just like me so many times before, when he opens it nothing comes out.
“It’s like it hurts you to look at me. What have I done to hurt you?”
I press him determined to not let this opportunity escape. I give him the time he needs to respond. Part of me believes he’ll never tell me the true answers. I glance back out to the water, studying my fishing line.
“I don’t hate you.” His voice is gruff.
“You haven’t talked to me. You avoid me like I’m a fucking disease.” Tears prick at the back of my eyes and it’s from sheer anger and hurt. “You leave at night. I’m not a part of your life anymore.”
“I can’t explain it, Molly.”
I swivel to face him; my hand shoots out, shoving his shoulder. “Don’t you fucking dare call me Molly again! You always called me Hop until our night together. Don’t you dare fucking take that away from me, too.”
The hurt that flashes on Guy’s face makes me regret my words instantly, but they need to be spoken. He turns back to the water like I didn’t just rip his ass.
“Talk, dammit.”
“I’m not the same person.”
“No shit. Got that memo the day you came home and only forced yourself to touch me during my talk at my brother’s funeral.”
“Hop.” He finally turns to me. “It’s not you. I went there and fought and came home a different person. Everything is shattered in my world.”
“I get it, but you won’t let me in.”
“I can’t. My head is all wrong. I’m a dangerous man.”
“So that’s it?”
“I’ve never stopped loving you,” he whispers.
“Fuck you, Guy. Fuck you! I hate this. I hate myself. It’s not just your world that’s shattered. Mine is gone. Completely fucking gone.” The veracity behind my own voice scares me, but I don’t stop. “The man who has owned my heart my entire life is right in front of me yet I don’t see him.”
I bend over, cradling my head on the top of my thighs, and give into the storm of emotions that have been brewing inside of me. I let go of everything. The final pieces of hope, chaos, disaster, and trust diminish, falling into ashes on the ground.
“Hey,” Guy’s voice is soothing.
He grabs me, pulling me into his arms against his bare chest. His large hands run up and down my spine. I keep my face tucked safely into my legs. I let it all spill out of me until I can finally control my breathing once again.
Like a newborn calf learning to walk, I feel the same as I come back down to reality.
“I do love you, Hop. I love you more than you’ll ever know, but I don’t know how to live in my own skin anymore. I close my eyes and hear the shots being fired; I wake up and smell the blood. There’s nothing I do that doesn’t remind me of it. I’m fucking angry. I need to be back there with my band of brothers fighting beside them, but I can’t. I’m so fucking fueled with rage that I don’t know how to
live anymore,” he pauses pulling me up to his face. My legs straddle his thighs while my hands plant tightly on the back of his shoulders.
It’s when we’re face-to-face I see the first wave of emotion playing out in his eyes. His facial features have finally softened. I physically see the first layer of harshness the Army coated him in peel away.
“I had it all. I was living the American Dream serving my country and planning my future with the one woman I love. Now where’s the fucking fairy tale?”
I lick my lips before I speak. “I’m right here. I love you and always will. I hope you find it in you to let yourself live again because I need and want you.”
He nods his head acknowledging me then drops his forehead to my shoulder. We let the silence finish our conversation. It’s the same sound that’s been haunting the two of us but in this moment, I feel it begin to heal our wounds. We’ll never be the same, but there’s hope.
“Fish,” he finally whispers.
I turn my head to let my lips linger up the side of his neck.
“Fish, Hop.” This time his voice holds a sense of urgency.
“Oh shit.” I stand up and turn to see my line bobbing up and down.
I reel in a nice trout with a large smile on my face. It dangles above the boat and I squeal like a little girl.
“Help me.” My words echo around the pond.
And just like when we were little kids he grabs the fish and unhooks it for me. I’m all cowgirl, mud, and horses, but there’s something about a slimy fish and hooking worms that I draw line in the mud at.
“Grandpa will love that one.”
“Yeah.” Guy offers me a half smile. “I can already taste the smoked trout.”
He wipes his hands off on his jeans after unhooking the fish. He places it on ice and then goes about checking his own pole. He reels it in with nothing on the end of it and casts it out again. I cast mine in the opposite direction and then pop open the red cooler.
“What do we have over there?” Guy asks with a nod of his head.
“Beer, sandwiches, chips, some jerky, and fruit chews.”
I’m stunned with a loud, booming laugh comes from Guy. He sits back with a large smile on his face.
“Are you okay?” I ask totally confused.
He shakes his head. “Those damn fruit chews. Amos would always hoard them.”
I smile broadly loving the sound of Amos’ name from Guy. “Yes, he would. I don’t even like them and that’s probably because I never had a chance to eat them.”
I hold out a brightly colored foil packet to him. He snags it quickly and tears into them. Guy inhales the chews in one large gulp, so I toss him another one.
“Working in the barn with you is helping, Hop. Small steps.”
I have a thrilling feeling of our open wounds neatly healing into beautiful scars.
15
Molly
“I’m not a real big fan of babies. Once they get about a year and a half though, they’re pretty awesome. Well...as long as their parents don’t suck.” –Amos
There’s a tall stack of straw in the barn and the four-wheeler is running. Guy’s up early and already set about chores around the barn.
“You don’t have to keep hauling in the straw.” I lean on the gate to the stall he’s working in. “I mean you did fix the four-wheeler.”
“It’s a good workout,” he shrugs.
We haven’t talked since the night we spent at the pond. Three very long days, but I’m giving him his space. He didn’t right out ask for it, but I received the message loud and clear.
“I appreciate it, Guy.” I push off the fence and head to the horses.
I’m returning from hooking up the fourth horse to the exercise machine when I see Guy opening the stall to a new horse.
“I’ll get that one.”
He looks up at me and quirks an eyebrow. I walk over to him and have to fight the urge to not reach out and grab his hand or brush kisses along his strong jaw line. He has quite the beard going on. It’s past the stubble stage and growing quite nicely into a damn sexy beard.
“He’s new here. The local BLM brought him in. He’s a wild stallion brought from the mountains. He’s healing from a broken leg.” I point in at the gorgeous bay horse with a pitch-black mane.
“It’s okay. I got it.” Guy steps forward and I grab his arm pulling him back.
“We had to unload him using a chute and run him into the barn. No one has cleaned his stall yet. He’s wild, Guy.”
“I’m not broken, Hop.”
That damn nickname.
“I know that. He’s wild and hurt.”
It’s not lost on me that the horse and Guy are more similar than I want to comment.
“What’s his name?”
“Atlas.”
Guy shifts his head and studies me.
“Royal Atlas. He was the leader of the pack of horses he ran with and I figure he’s been all over the desert.”
“Royal Atlas,” he mumbles.
I make a move without thinking and grab his hand. He doesn’t clutch to mine, but doesn’t pull away either as he studies the horse.
“He has a right to live a happy life. I have big plans of breaking him and treating him good even though he’s broken.”
Guy bites down on his bottom lip and finally turns to me. “I still love you, Molly. I’ve never stopped.”
Tears well up in his eyes, but the damn stubborn man never lets go. I finally feel his hand clutch to mine.
“I’m home surrounded by caring and loving people. My family that means everything to me, but I feel so alone.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. I reach up and kiss his jaw. He flinches back from the touch of my lips on his skin, so I kiss him quickly again.
“Complete and utter failure courses through me every single day. It gets harder to wake up and move knowing I got my best friend killed.”
I grab his other hand and look up at him. He grips onto me like a lifeline and I feel it the instant the floodgates bust open.
“I thought killing those fuckers would help me heal, but it hasn’t. I went wild and lost my sense of control. I miss it over there. I miss my brothers and I miss the war. I don’t know how to live anymore.”
I fight to keep the tears back. It’s my turn to be strong and absorb him.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He peers down at me still holding his tears at bay. “Will you wait for me, Molly?”
“I don’t think I really have a choice. My heart has never let me have one.”
He lets go of my hands, cups my face, and leans down. Our lips are mere inches apart. His breath tickles the skin of my lips. “Please never doubt my love. I’m so sorry I’m broken.”
“Kiss me,” I whisper with my eyes closed. “Can you just give me that?”
He answers with his lips on mine. It’s sweet and soft. I can tell Guy doesn’t trust himself to go any farther with me. It will take time, and time is all I have right now. I dart my tongue out running it along the seam of his lips. I smile when he growls while breaking the kiss.
“I’ll take care of Royal Atlas. You go back to your side.” I point to his side of the barn and turn to get a fresh bale of hay.
My face hurts from the mile-wide smile. It feels good to actually feel and smile again. Really good. I crank up the radio to my favorite country station before grabbing a bale of hay. Right when I turn around I hear a loud boom and then see Guy’s body shooting backwards.
Royal Atlas throttles the stall over and over again. Each time his hoof connects with the wooden panels it sounds like a thunderstorm. It takes him several minutes before he actually calms down to only pawing the dirt. I look over at Guy who is beginning to stand up on his feet and then brush his ass off.
I slap my hand over my mouth when I see how pale his face is. Laughing right now would be inappropriate at best, but please relay that message to my mind. When the first giggle escapes, I press my palm harder into my mouth.
Guy runs his hands over his long hair while staring me down.
I laugh even harder when he tilts his head in my direction. “What part of this do you think is funny?”
My giggle fit amps up with both hands now covering my mouth. Tears spill out of my eyes and my stomach begins to ache from the convulsion of laughter.
“You think that was funny?” He asks while only being a foot away. He turns to show me the back of his pants. His ass is peeking through his ripped jeans with a faint horseshoe print forming on one cheek.
What do I do? I laugh even harder.
“Think this is funny?” He moves quickly, grabbing me by the waist, and then throws me over his shoulder.
“Put me down right now, Guy.” I slap his back.
“Still laughing, Hop?” He slaps my ass hard.
“Put me down now.” I slap him again.
“Are you done laughing?” He growls.
Before I have the chance to reply my body is shocked by the ice-cold water, but Guy made a mistake and I capitalized on it. Before he tossed me in the huge water trough he brought me down to his chest giving me just enough time to wrap my hands around his neck.
I pull Guy in with me. We both splash into the water and I relish the feel of Guy’s body on top of mine. He pulls up quickly, grabbing me by the waist bringing me with him. He stands in one easy movement, keeping me pressed against his body. My legs wrap around his waist and my hands follow around his neck.
“Still laughing?” Guy asks.
I pull back to look him in the eye and smile brightly. “Seeing you get knocked on your ass was funny. You bullheaded man.”
“God, I need you in my life, Hop.”
“You have me.” I lay my head on his shoulder letting him clutch me to his chest.
An idea strikes me. Royal Atlas and Guy have so much in common. They’re both hurt and ripped away from their group. They both need to heal and have a long journey in front of them. I know better than anyone else how training and bonding with a horse can heal your soul.
