The horse shifts against his knuckles. It's quiet here in the barn's shadow, the morning fresh and bright beyond it where the path leads from the yard down through the fields and broad meadow to the wood and creek beyond it. The weather is good, clear enough that it will be sweltering by mid-morning, but in the moment as the dew scent evaporates and the chickens pick at worms in the stable yard it would be easy to forget the circumstances of this place.

It has been easy.

What? he says, so fast that James almost regrets asking the question. He focuses on shifting the lay of the strap across the horse's shoulder, then fixing every strap in its keeper even as Thomas draws close. The horse is between them and the rest of the world. James tips his face toward Thomas by a degree; he wills his hands to keep at their task. "That isn't what I meant."

As the man he'd been yesterday, he might have said 'I'm happy with you too' and leave it alone. Because of course that's true. He's said it a thousand times and is certain he'll say its like a thousand more. Instead, he hesitates for a split second. Then--

"Is this the place you want to be, or is it the one you're in because someone says you must?"