Page 18 of A Bittersweet Summer

He flips a switch and rests his hand on the steering wheel, turning with his elbow propped up on the seat to back out of our parking spot.

When he whips the golf cart around, I grab onto the front of the cart, trying to steady myself.

The grass ripples with a gentle breeze across the field. Horses graze, and I soak up the bright blue sky. Everything looks more vibrant out here—more colorful. I don’t know if it's the way the grass grows better in the spring, or if it’s just my eyes playing tricks on me. Either way, the world feels brighter than it did a few months ago—than it has for a very,verylong time.

Yellow dandelions pepper the yard as the cart kicks up gravel. I go with the motion of it, content to observe.

I wonder if Gus would want to come out here with me. Maybe meet the horses.

When I was younger, I’d often attend my lessons alone. It was too difficult to maintain any consistency with how often Gus was in and out of the hospital. That, and my parents always treatedhim as if he would break the second he got near a horse. I’m sure he’d like it out here, though.

When we stop at the second barn at the base of the hill, Wesley hops out, grabbing a white box from the back of the cart and adjusting the cowboy hat on his head.

“This way,” he directs.

I scurry after him. “I thought you said cowboy was off the table in terms of a nickname.”

“I did say that,” he mutters as I stare at his back.

The barn stands tall, beige siding accented by white trim across the door Wes drags open.

“The cowboy hat is really saying otherwise,” I tease, and he grunts.

When he glances back at me, I don’t miss the slight tilt to his mouth—the one that says he’s amused and trying to suppress it. I’d rather have him amused at one of my jokes than the sight of me falling into mud out in the field.

Through the iron bars, I spot a lean bay mare. She whinnies to greet us, tossing her head once. When she paws at the ground, my stomach flips.

So far, I haven’t done much save for leading a few horses out. Wesley hasn’t seen my horsemanship, so there’s a lot riding on this moment.

“She’s usually pretty good,” he informs. “Though she’d like to make you believe otherwise. Just wants out, I guess.”

He unlatches the stall door and grabs a halter from the hook.

Once set up, I stand in the stall holding the mare while he pulls a long glove on at the back of the horse. She nuzzles my arm gently, testing on the second go and shoving a bit harder. I keep my balance, putting pressure on the lead to get her to stop. Luckily, she does.

“This is all very clinical,” I say, finally breaking the silence when Wesley places a bucket and rag off to the side.

He sighs, opening the white box on the ground and pulling out a syringe. “It’d be weird if it weren’t.”

Good point.

Rocking on my heels, I look up at the rafters as a barn swallow swoops in one end of the barn and out the other. I’m failing at making conversation, and my mind suddenly goes empty as my boss goes elbow deep.

I wince, fighting to fill the uncomfortable silence.

“I saw your sister’s boobs this morning.”

Wesley pauses, leaning around the horse's flank to look at me where I stand by her head. “What did you just say to me?” he questions, and my cheeks go pink.

“I just—” Struggle to find words, apparently. “I don’t know,” I start, feeling those words start to build up in my chest. Nerves skitter down my spine as I commence the longest rambling non-explanation to ever occur. “I felt really weird. I followed your directions and came in and fed Mud. The thought was that you’d be down at the barn.” Wesley returns to his task, pulling his elbow out of the Mare, and grabbing a bucket of water used to clean her up. He makes a noncommittal sound.

I don’t take the hint and continue anyway. “I was just standing there, I guess. Then she comes in full boobs out. I thought maybe she was your girlfriend at first.” I chuckle. “And then you said sister, and my assumptions gotrealweird for a second—like taboo romance novel weird. Thank God you guys aren’t that weird.” I pause. “Unless you are. I don’t know if you are, really. The point is, Rosemary—Roe—came into the kitchen tits out, and I just feel like you needed to know that happened.”

“I’ll talk to her,” he grumbles. “She’s a bit of a… free spirit.”

He tosses the discarded glove in a pile of trash on the ground. “This girl’s all done,” he says. “Bring her round, and we can let her out. The walking will be good.”

I follow his directions, suddenly silent as we walk to the gate. The mare gets a bit strong, testing my gumption by trying to nudge me and walk faster. I use pressure on the lead to slow her down, doing my best to make her mind me.