Wildwood

3. The River-3

“Please, please don’t ride again,” Mom whispers against my leg. “You can go to any college in the country, as far away as you want to go, but please don’t ride anymore.”

Grief blooms anew inside, the worst kind of spring. It’s cold and hot at the same time, and growing so fast it chokes me. If Dad is really gone, riding will be the closest thing I have to his presence; his voice will be in my ear every time I get on. But then again, will I ever be able to climb in a saddle without seeing a flashback of Teague leaping into the river… without remembering how Teague’s body reacted to my voice? Dad is dead; she might not feel it, but I do, and I’m the one to blame. If agreeing to not ride for a while brings her any kind of peace, I want to give it to her.

“Okay, mom,” I say, barely believing that I’m saying it. “Okay.”