The late afternoon sun spills gold over the hills, catching on the dust that swirls with every lazy gust of wind across the open pasture. Birds chatter in the distance, and the old weather vane creaks gently on the barn’s roof as Rocket snorts near the fence, flicking his tail with lazy ease.

Sevika stands beside the smaller mare near the stables—her hand firm and gentle on the reins, her sleeves rolled up, and sweat glistening at her temples from the warm-up ride. She’s all muscle and calm, the kind of stillness that only comes from someone who’s never known anything but land, wind, and four-legged companions. Her straw hat tips low as she glances back over her shoulder.

“Alright, sweetheart,” she calls, that familiar rasp tugging a little smirk at her lips. “Time to meet your girl.”

The horse—gentle, dappled, sweet-eyed—nudges Sevika’s shoulder like she’s already bonded to her. She’s clearly been cared for like a queen the past few weeks while Sevika tested every gait, every spook, every turn of temperament. Only the best for her wife.

You hesitate near the barn doors, phone stuffed in the pocket of jeans you rarely wear, eyes bouncing between Sevika, the saddle, and the absolute height of the animal you’re apparently meant to sit on.

Sevika chuckles at your hesitancy, slow and warm. She hands you the reins like she’s handing over a promise. “She’s a sweetheart. Gentlest thing I ever met—next to you.”

A brief pause.

“I wouldn’t put you up there if I thought you’d fall, baby. And if you do…”

She shrugs, fond and a little cocky.

“You married a cowboy. I’ll catch you.”