Page 77 of A Bittersweet Summer

Gus sighs, slouching where he’s perched in the saddle. Wes rides up ahead of us, Megan hanging toward the back. I really should be sandwiching them in, but she seems to be a natural. My brother? Not so much.

He’s hunched over the horse like he’stryingto give himself a severe spinal injury. Beyond that, his hands are fisted in the horse's mane, the reins so loose, I have to remind myself he’s on a horse that will follow along without a lot of guidance. If he’d been on anyone else, I’m pretty sure my brother would be on the other side of the field by now.

“Also, put your heels down.” I chide. “If that horse wasn’t so old, you’d be sending him into the next zip code with that kind of position.”

Gus cuts me a withering look. “I’m staying on, aren’t I?” His shoulders relax a bit, and he straightens. “In terms of helping, you could just keep mom away.”

I grin, sitting up straighter in the saddle. “That’s actually my specialty,” I tease. “I am mom repellent.”

August just scoffs.

Silence descends between us, and I look out over the hill. Sticky heat makes it feel like a heavy pressure is in my chest. When people talk about Ohio, they always mention the humidityon hot days like this. And they would be right. If it weren’t for the humidity, I could probably tolerate it better.

We will have to properly cool down the horses when we get back.

Wes turns back to look at me, smiling before straightening himself out again. It warms my cheeks.

“You look happier,” Gus interrupts. “Happier than I’ve seen you in a long time, that is. Happier foryou, and not just happy for others.”

“What do you mean?”

Gus shrugs. “You tend to make decisions that revolve around everyone else’s happiness—what would be best for the family.” He reels back a bit as I stare at him. “Don’t get me wrong, I think it makes you happy to take care of people like that, but this is different. This job you got, that man up there?” The heat in my cheeks intensifies—something I don’t need when the temperature reads eighty-six at ten in the morning. “Those are thingsyouwanted, Cass. You made decisions for yourself, this time. It’s just made you extra happy. You’re like… happy, happy.”

I chuckle. “If I had a drink for every time you said the word happy just now, I’d be throwing up on this fine horse, here.” I pat Lady on the neck to emphasize my point. “But maybe you’re right.”

“Iamright.” One corner of his mouth turns up. “We all need some happy, Cass. It gives us something to cling to when the inevitable black cloud reappears—makes us less sad when storms come.”

My brow furrows, but I force a smile anyway. “I can’t really tell if you’re being optimistic or pessimistic right now.”

“I’m being realistic,” he says flatly.

“Ah.” I lift my chin with the word. “So, you’re just being Gus.”

“Okay,” he says, pulling his shoulder blades together to stretch. He shifts a bit, and I can tell he’s going to be sore later today. His legs will be jello as soon as he hops off that horse. “Now, go back to where you were,” he demands. “Tell Megan to trot up here instead.”

“No can do.” I point up ahead. “We’re about to be back in the forest, and those trails only accommodate one at a time.”

“You ruined my date.”

I gasp, holding my hand to my chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize this was a date. I thought you wanted to hang out with your sister.”

Gus chews on his cheek. “I was multitasking.”

When I roll my eyes, it’s halfhearted, but I’m thankful once we do break through the trees. Not only does the shade help alleviate some of the heat, but the soft rustling of leaves, the slow rocking of the horse, and the steady whisper of wind through the branches make me feel present—alive.

Maybe Gus was right. Iamhappy. I feel like I’m no longer alive to ease the ache of everyone else. Out here, I’m alive for myself. Like the horses out to pasture, I get to just breathe and exist.

To just be.

“You can’t cry at all of them!” Ellis throws her arms up. It’s the closest she’s gotten to bridezilla since she and Griffin got engaged. And if I’m being honest, I don’t think it even counts.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffles, grabbing another tissue from the pack she brought herself. “I’m just having emotions, and you’re beautiful in everything. I can stop.”

“Objectively,” Lennon starts from her place on the couch. “The first one was kind of ugly.”

“You’re right,” B concedes. “It was just the thought of her in a wedding dress at all. God, Ellis, I wish your mom could be here.”

There’s a brief silence, one where we sink into the realization that someone is missing at this event. Ellis’s mom died when she was thirteen, and her aunt, Beatrice, got custody in her early twenties.