Page 98 of The Bratva Sinner

I don’t remind the horse that she was pretty standoffish a couple of weeks ago.

I hear footsteps and turn to see Maksim strolling through the low light of the stables. He’s in dark jeans and a grey button-up.

“I hear we’ve got some news,” he says.

I smile. “We do. She’s healthy, and Mom is doing great.”

I lead him to the stall. The foal is now sleeping against Willow’s legs. Her shiny black coat is the picture of health.

Maksim is quiet.

Then he smiles, and I see a weight come off his shoulders. There was some concern after the fire about how much smoke Willow inhaled, and whether it affected the baby.

We lean against the stall door and watch the new mom.

“You’re always out here,” he says.

“Better company.”

“Than?”

I give him a look.

He almost smiles. “Fair. It’s more than just liking them.”

I nod. “It’s all I know.”

“You’ve spent a lot of time with horses?”

“Yes. A few years.”

I watch Willow shift her weight, lowering her head to nose at her foal. The baby doesn’t stir. She’s dead asleep and trusting the world. I envy her.

“My mom and I lived on a ranch in East Texas,” I say. “About forty minutes outside of nowhere. The kind of place where the nearest grocery store is a thirty-minute drive, and everybody minds their business.”

Maksim leans against the stall door with his arms folded on the top rail, looking at the horses. That helps. It’s easier to talk without him watching me. My heart beats a little faster. I’ve beenable to separate Texas from Florida. Life before and life after. I don’t want to think about the before. It’s easier to pretend that my life started here a month ago.

“My mom was down on her luck. We’d just gotten kicked out of our last apartment. The owner of the ranch was old and took pity on us. His wife had died, and his kids were in Houston. He didn’t give a damn about our history. He needed help, and we needed somewhere to disappear.” I pause. “It worked for everybody.”

“How old were you when you moved there?”

“Fourteen.” My heart skips a beat. “We’d been moving around for a couple of years before that. Texas was the first place that felt like we might stay.”

Maksim glances at me but doesn’t push. I lick my lips, pushing through the feelings that are bubbling up.

“I was terrible in school.” That doesn’t embarrass me the way it used to. It was hard to study when my mother was puking in the kitchen sink or bringing home men who were too loud. “Just terrible. I couldn’t sit still. Teachers didn’t want to bother with me. Mom didn’t care enough to ask.”

“But the horses were different.”

“Everything made sense with horses.” I look at Outlaw, who’s lost interest in us and retreated to the back of her stall. “Mr. Hadley had twelve of them when we first got there. Quarter horses, mostly. A couple of rescues he’d taken in over the years. He showed me the basics that first summer, and then just sort of stepped back and let me figure the rest out on my own.” I remember when I felt like I was finally in the right place. “I belonged with the horses. I was built for hard labor. One ofthe hands told me that once. Said I was never meant to be a princess.”

“Did you want to be a princess?”

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

“I got good at taking care of the horses. Really good. Mr. Hadley started trusting me with the harder ones. The ones that came in damaged.” I smile, remembering those first few months. “Said I was better with them than I was with people.”

“He wasn’t wrong.”