I could tell Jacob was putting on the tough-guy act. He wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all me. After all, it was an act that I’d perfected myself over the years.

It was always better to seem aloof –- to keep your guard up –- than to let anybody in. It was a lot safer that way. Coming across as a tough guy discouraged others from picking up on your weaknesses.

I wasn’t an idiot, either. When he swallowed those pills, I quickly put two and two together. He was clearly in pain. It was all over his face.

But Jacob had always been too proud, too stubborn to admit that he needed help. It was a relief to know that some things about him hadn’t changed.

In the kitchen, I fried up some grilled cheese sandwiches. Nothing fancy, and probably not up to Jacob’s standards. But bread, sliced cheese, and butter were pretty much all I could afford lately. If he didn’t like it, he didn’t have to eat.

I slid the sandwiches onto separate plates and set them down on the kitchen table. Jacob was over by the hearth, examining the few picture frames that sat upon the mantle, his hands behind his back, folded neatly.

He picked one of the frames up, smiling at the picture of me beside my first horse when I was six years old. The boy in the picture was carefree and lighthearted, smiling widely through several missing baby teeth. “How’s the family?” he asked me as he continued to examine the pictures.

“Good,” I answered flatly. I wasn’t sure, to be perfectly honest. With the exception of Jack, the rest of my family hadn’t bothered to reach out to me. They were still ashamed, too upset and frustrated with me because I didn’t fit their idealistic version of a perfect son. More specifically, their idealistic version of a God-fearing, woman-loving man.

I had struggled for a long time with that realization. I wasn’t good enough for them. When they found out –- when Michael let them find out -– Jack beat the shit out of me and threw me out onto the curb. He didn’t even hesitate when he did it, either.

My father only ever called to rub it in my face, to check and see if I’d maybe changed my mind. Despite hours of trying to convince him that wasn’t how it worked, he never listened. I was open and willing to speak with my family, but only if they reached out to me first. Only if they were ready.

But as the years dragged on, I realized that day might never come. The hope that they would one day accept me for who I was had already faded into a weak, naïve dream. They were never going to change, and neither was I.

We were at an impasse.

Jacob joined me at the kitchen table, sitting down across from me. To my surprise, he actually smiled when he saw what was on his plate. “Just like old times,” he reminisced.

I chuckled. “Only thing missing is a bowl of tomato soup.”

“And a campfire,” he added.

“Remember that one time you fell into poison ivy?” I smiled at the memory.

“Yeah. It was awful. You wouldn’t stop laughing, you jerk.”

I shrugged a shoulder, grinning. “You took it like a champ.”

“I was itchy for days.”

“Yeah, it didn’t look very fun. I can’t believe you did it on a dare.”

“I was eight,” he said as an excuse.

“So?”

“What do you mean, so?”

“I was eight, and I wasn’t dumb enough to roll around in it.”

“You had me convinced it was safe,” he snorted, grinning wildly. “I trusted you.”

Jacob’s smile was captivating. This was the first time since he had arrived that I felt like he was truly being himself. I was surprised how easy it was to talk to him when it was just us in the room.

It was like when we were kids –- fun, comfortable, safe.

A moment of silence fell between us as we ate lunch together. My grilled cheese sandwich was a little burnt on one side, but the cheese in the middle was perfectly melted and gooey. “Do you trust me now?” I asked him after a moment.

Jacob looked up from his meal and stared at me, confused. “Sure?” he said slowly.

“What happened to you?” I questioned carefully. “All those years ago. When you disappeared.”

Jacob bit his lower lip, hesitant. “I’m not going to judge you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I added, trying to be as reassuring as possible.

“I…” he hesitated, voice trailing off.

Unwilling to press Jacob any further, I stayed silent, but I wanted to know. That little seed of curiosity had been festering in the back of my mind. His disappearance had been so sudden and, to my mind, unjustified that I desperately wanted to find out more.

Jacob pressed his lips into a thin line, deep in thought. After a moment longer, he took a deep breath and sighed. For the briefest, tiniest moment, he relinquished control.

“Butterscotch,” he stated calmly. “I fell off of Butterscotch. Landed pretty badly on my back. None of the nerves were severed, thank God, but it still left me pretty messed up.”

I frowned. Suddenly, everything made sense. Jacob’s painkillers, his obvious discomfort when standing or walking, his aversion to seeing or even being near horses.

Not wanting to rush him, however, I said nothing, trying to stay patient and ready. This was obviously hard for him. He was letting me in, slowly but surely, and I wasn’t about to scare him away.

“There must have been a snake or something in the grass. Spooked her,” he continued. He avoided my gaze and chose instead to look right past me, at a spot on the kitchen wall. His dark brown eyes were glazed over as he relived the memory.

“She bucked me off, fell on top of me when she rolled. She ended up breaking one of her legs.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said quietly. I meant it, too.

“My father had to put her down; the damage was too severe.”

I nodded slowly in solidarity. I’d had to put down a few horses in my time on Jack’s farm. Some might think it was cruel to end an animal’s life so abruptly, but what they didn’t understand was that it saved them from a world of suffering. Sometimes, there was a small chance that they could recover if their injury wasn’t too bad, but that wasn’t always the case.

It was no wonder Jacob felt so uneasy around horses. “They had to send me to Chicago for surgery,” he explained. “I wound up staying in the city because there weren’t very many physio clinics around here.”

“That makes sense,” I mumbled. I chewed the inside of my cheek, a little uncomfortable. “Thank you for telling me,” I finally managed, hoping my sincerity showed through.

“You were right,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry I didn’t ever write to you and shit.”

I shook my head, raising a hand in protest. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m sorry I said that. I was just worried about you, is all.”

Jacob offered me a gentle smile, a smile that had my stomach tied up in knots. I wanted to see him smiling more, just like when we were kids. “I’m assuming you never got back on a horse, huh?” I muttered.

“Yeah,” he replied sheepishly. He brought a hand up to his ear, scratching briefly behind it. “Didn’t really feel like riding anymore. You know. Trauma and all that stuff.”

And that was when I got an idea. I smiled at him, suddenly eager, and stood up from the table, lunch forgotten. Jacob looked up at me, confused.

“Where are you going?”

“Come with me,” I instructed, pulling him up from his seat by the wrist.

I dragged him outside and led him towards the stables. Maybelle whinnied, almost like she could sense that we were on our way. Jacob tried to tug his arm free, but I wouldn’t let go. He followed, albeit putting up a great deal of resistance.

“W-wait,” he stammered. “I don’t really feel like–-”

“You said you trust me, right?”

“Yeah, I trust you, but I’m not ready to–-”

I stopped and turned to Jacob, looking him square in the eye. His cheeks turned a very visible pink. Smiling at him gently, I said, “Remember what my father always used to tell us?”

“Jack?”

“You always have to get back on your horse.”

Jacob broke eye contact, glanced away and stared at a spot on the ground. We stood less than a foot apart. I could smell his expensive cologne, an intoxicating blend that smelled of spices and earth. I could see tiny details of his face in the sunlight, found the faintest traces of freckles upon his cheeks that had faded with time.

“Fine,” whispered Jacob under his breath. I grinned at this answer, satisfied for now, took him by the wrist, and guided him into the stables.

It was wonderfully warm inside. The air smelled like dry hay and dirt. Jacob curled his face up at the scent, probably no longer used to it.

I brought him to the very end of the stable where Maybelle was housed, stopping just outside her pen. She stood tall, nodding her head and swaying her mane, and snorted through her nose, neighing in greeting. I carefully opened the gate to her pen and stepped inside, reaching out to pat her gently on the head.

“Hey, beautiful,” I cooed.

Jacob didn’t take a step past the open gate, choosing to remain a safe distance away. I could tell by the way he worried his bottom lip with his teeth that he was starting to get incredibly antsy.

“She’s pretty,” he commented politely.

“Come say hi.”

“No, thanks. I’m fine here–-”

I rolled my eyes. Trudging over and taking his hand, I pulled him into the pen with me. Jacob stood frigid, stiff like a board.

Carefully, I placed him in front of Maybelle, my right hand pressed firmly between his shoulder blades, holding him there. With my left hand, I reached down and lifted his own. His hand hovered before the Thoroughbred, shaking slightly.

“She’s doesn’t bite,” I whispered in his ear. “Don’t be scared.”

“I’m not scared,” he retorted, slightly indignant. I could only chuckle. He was such a liar.

Jacob swallowed, inhaling slowly. I pressed against the back of his hand until his palm finally made contact with Maybelle’s muzzle. His shoulders tensed, the muscles in his neck tightened as he held his breath. He swallowed hard, too nervous to speak.

Up close, I was able to admire his five o’clock shadow and perfect jawline. I could drink in the details of his serious expression, his deep frown lines. Since he was still frozen, I took hold of his hand and moved it for him, gently patting Maybelle in rhythmic strokes.

After a minute or so, Jacob relaxed, a daring little smile ghosting across his lips. The tension eventually slipped away, and he was smiling in earnest. He glanced over to me with a fire in his eyes that I thought had been extinguished a long time ago.

“See?” I smirked. “Not so bad, right?”

“Right,” he chuckled softly to himself.

“I can take you on a trail ride,” I offered.

“Baby steps, Danny,” he laughed, bright and carefree.

The sound of it made my heart race. This was the Jacob I knew.

In that very moment, something came over me. My hand still covered, the feeling of his skin making my own palm tingle. I wanted to feel his warmth, needed so much more.

Slowly, hesitantly, I leaned. Jacob didn’t move away, didn’t put his hands between us in protest. Instead, he closed his eyes, lips parted slightly for me.

I kissed him gently, so gently I thought that I must have missed. I started to pull away when he kissed me back, his lips warm against mine. He turned slightly to face me head on, taking hold of my jacket collar.

Thoroughly distracted by the taste of Jacob’s mouth, I couldn’t fight the low hum that escaped my throat. It wasn’t a deep kiss, but I felt his tongue dart out, adventurous and exploratory. He pressed his body against mine, moaning into my mouth.

I had no idea how long we stood there with our mouths locked together, but we eventually broke apart, a little breathless. Jacob cast his eyes down to his shoes. The tips of his ears burned a bright red as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand, embarrassed.

“Sorry,” I said. I didn’t know why I was apologizing, I just felt like it was the right thing to do. Not that there were many alternatives.

“No,” he breathed, “it’s fine. Really. I, er, I think I should go.”

My heart sank into the pit of my stomach. It wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for. But then again, I didn’t know what I was expecting.

Jacob took a step back, moving away. “Thomas is probably wondering where I am,” he explained hurriedly.

“Right, of course.”

“Thanks for lunch.” Jacob turned on his heel, leaving without another word.