Bryan’s POV
I ignored him this time, mounting again with a wince. Pain pulsed down my thigh, but I refused to quit. The field was scattered with training markers—cones, low fences, and obstacle poles—and Knox led us through them like it was a game he knew he’d already won.
He cleared every jump flawlessly. His horse responded like a dance partner. Mine stumbled through like it was drunk.
At one point, Knox stopped in front of me, tipping his head dramatically. “Want a snack? A pillow? I feel like this is turning into a full-day show. I might as well get popcorn.”
“You’re not even trying to teach,” I snapped. “You’re just enjoying yourself.”
He didn’t deny it. “Well, yeah. Watching you try to stay on that horse is the most fun I’ve had in weeks.”
By the time we reached the final lap,
