Page 111 of Almost Yours
We stop. His hands lift from my eyes.
“Okay,” he says, voice a little hoarse. “You can look now.”
It takes me a second to register what I’m seeing. At first, it’s just the soft stretch of the field behind the house, the fading light kissing the hills, the new fence Rowan’s been working on for weeks—but then I seeher.
A sleek chestnut mare standing beneath the oak tree at the edge of the paddock. She lifts her head, ears flicking, curious but calm.
I blink. Then blink again.
“Rowan,” I breathe, barely more than a whisper. “You didn’t.”
“I did.” He steps beside me, sliding his hand into mine.
I turn to him, heart thudding so hard it hurts. “Are youserious?”
He nods, that familiar mix of pride and softness lighting up his face. “She’s yours.”
Happy tears gather in the corners of my eyes. I throw my arms around his neck, and he catches me with a laugh, spinning me once before setting me back down.
“You’re ridiculous,” I murmur, kissing him hard. “And perfect.”
His hands find my waist, steadying me as I pull back to look at the horse again. “She’s a rescue,” he explains. “They said she’s great with beginners, super gentle.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “How did you even… When did you…?”
“I’ve been working on it for a few weeks,” he admits. “The rescue needed to make sure she’d be going to a good home. I had to make sure the paddock and stable were ready.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I wanted it to be perfect.”
“What’s her name?” I ask, already taking a step toward the paddock.
“That’s for you to decide. She’s yours.”
The mare watches our approach with intelligent eyes, ears pricked forward with interest. She ambles over as we reach the fence, nosing at the rail curiously.
“She’s gorgeous,” I whisper, tentatively extending my hand. The mare sniffs my palm, her breath warm against my skin, and then nudges gently against my fingers. My heart swells.
“I’ve wanted a horse since I was a little girl,” I say, throat tight with emotion. “I can’t believe you did this.”
Rowan steps closer. “You mentioned it once, months ago.” His hand slides around my waist. “The way your face lit up when you talked about it… I knew I had to make it happen.”
I lean into him, watching as the mare tosses her head, mane catching the golden evening light. “She needs a name.”
“Any ideas?”
I study her for a moment. She has such gentle eyes and the most graceful movements.
“Echo,” I decide.
“Echo,” Rowan repeats, testing the name. “I like it.”
The mare’s ears flick at the sound, as if approving it.
I can’t stop looking at her, my chest tight with emotion. “Can I?” I gesture toward the gate, and Rowan nods.
I unhook the latch and step inside the paddock, moving slowly to give Echo time to adjust to me. She watches cautiously but doesn’t shy away when I approach with my hand palm up. Her velvet muzzle tickles my skin as she investigates my scent.
“Hi, girl,” I whisper. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”
Echo tosses her head, and I laugh through my tears. Carefully, I stroke her neck, marveling at the warmth and softness of her coat. She leans into my touch, and something inside me settles—like a piece I didn’t know was missing suddenly clicking into place.
