Page 76 of A Bittersweet Summer

I follow his directions all the way out into the grass, through the gate to the paddock, and when I unclip the lead rope from the colt’s halter.

I close the gate and turn to face Wes.

“Atta girl.” His grin is wide and warm—the kind of smile I get to see daily, now.

Sweat beads on the back of my neck until it rolls down my spine, dipping beneath my tank top. It will no doubt add to the dirt and sweat already covering my clothes. I’m not sure how Wes can still look at me like that in this condition.

He, however, looks better all dirty and sweaty, panting as he hauls grain bags into the feed room. It’s a real treat to watch him. I am disappointed we don’t get grain deliveries daily.

As if privy to my thoughts, his eyes darken. “What are you thinking about, Miss Summers?”

I tilt my head to the side. “Ask me after hours,” I tease. “I don’t want to be fired for inappropriate talk on the job.”

Wes scoffs just as I hear muffled steps by the barn. When Gus rounds the corner, I instinctively take a step back from Wesley.

August knows who I’m dating. I figured if he was going to go on a trail ride, I’d have to confess. If not, he would have arrived at whatever weird tension has taken its permanent residence between my boss and me.

“Hey, Gus!” I say, waving.

He pushes his glasses up further on his nose, looking nervous. “I’m not too early, am I?”

Wes turns, draping his arm around my shoulders. “Not at all. We have Intrepid just about ready for you at the end of the barn.”

Another figure pops out from around the corner. Megan stands with her sleek hair pulled back into a low ponytail, freckles across her cheeks, her forehead, all the way down her chest, where she wears a tank top and jeans.

Gus tosses a thumb in her direction. “I hope you don’t mind,” he says. “I added another client.”

“It’s no problem!” I say, walking forward to hug Megan, but I stop. “Actually,” I say, “I’m pretty sweaty. Better not.” I opt for placing my hands on her shoulders. “You can ride Deco. He’s one of my favorites, and already inside.”

We enter the barn, adding the last pieces of tack to the horses we plan to take out on the trails. I get to hear Megan explain how she and Gus met, finally. Relishing in the fact that my brother was, as predicted, a bumbling fool.

It’s endearing, though, to hear about Gus “borrowing” his neighbor’s dog for an excuse to talk to her. Apparently, Megan had been dog walking three nights a week around the apartment complex. When Gus caught on, he made his old neighbor, Connie, lend him her thirteen-year-old chihuahua, Elvis, so he could inquire about her pricing for his newly adopted, senior dog.

Elvis was already Megan’s client, so she caught on pretty quickly.

“I’m glad you took pity on him,” I say, tightening Lady’s girth.

Megan just laughs.

The grass has moved from a bright, spring green to a more muted green—one that speaks of the heat of the summer. Blue skies stretch across the farm, dotted with fluffy white clouds that make the whole scene appear plucked out of a storybook, but when we ride back into the trees, the Earth seems to cool in the shade.

Gus looks awkward on a horse—gangly in the way his limbs seem too long for the rest of him. When he smiles back at Megan, something warms in my chest.

In the last few months, my job has bled into my relationship with my brother. I spent so much time worrying about what I would say and how I should act, I forgot to be just me. That’s not how it’s been recently, though, and I’m thankful for it. I get to just enjoy my brother’s company instead.

Gus found his way in the world, and he’s not defined by hospital stays or treatments. I hate that it took me so long to see it—to enjoy him as my brother first, without attaching the labelsickto it.

My mom often highlighted his illness. She’d alwaysconsiderwhat accommodations Gus needed, even when he needed none. I watched worry carve lines into her face—watched the way it aged her.

I thought it was just how we were supposed to behave. We were supposed to consider Gus and the entire family in every decision we made—even the ones I made as I grew older and bloomed into adulthood.

We break into the field, and I trot to catch up, placing my horse just next to his.

“Mom called me a few weeks ago,” I start, gauging his reaction.

“It’s about Megan and my procedure next week, isn’t it?”

I wince. “Yes. I really just wanted to make sure you knew I can help. Only if Megan needs a break, that is. I’m not pushing myself into your life.”