It wasn’t luck that kept Haley with me, it was love. Calling it luck seems insulting, like it discredits her devotion to me. When it comes to us, I am the lucky one.

The journalist nods. I can’t recall her name. Chelsea, maybe? “You look great,” she says, flashing a smile. “If I hadn’t known about the accident, I never would have guessed.”

I smile and laugh like I’m supposed to. I have scars, and a little patch of short hair on the back of my head from having the brain pressure monitor inserted into my skull. It’s hidden underneath my stupid long curls, and I tried to use it to get the producers of Shadowland to let me cut the rest of my hair to match. They didn’t go for it.

“And you’re back to work now?” she asks.

“I am. It’s so good to be back. I’ve missed it a lot after nearly six months off.”

“Are you able to do everything like you did before?”

I hook my nail behind the label and rip it down. “No, I can’t do all my own stunts at the moment, and it kills me. I’m so particular about my character. I’m probably driving the stunt guy nuts.”

“What are you working on now?”

We talk about the current season of Shadowland and future projects. It’s a standard interview, one I consider boring, and my thoughts drift to Haley. I’ve been away filming and we haven’t seen each other in two weeks. I flew into New York yesterday for a talk show, and she thinks I’m going to be here for another few days, but I’m leaving early in the morning to surprise her.

It’s a week and a half before Christmas, and I have a while off work. I can’t wait to spend my days with her. Again.

“So,” the interviewer says. “Let’s talk about your girlfriend. Haley, right?”

Haley got her fair share of media attention after she told off a paparazzi at the hospital, and the whole thing was filmed. Once the public found out about my girlfriend—a random girl from a small town in Montana, suffering the tragic loss of her mother and struggling to keep her farm—they became a little obsessed.

We kept quiet for months. I didn’t have much choice, anyway. I relied on Haley for everything. With extensive injuries, I needed help with simple tasks and couldn’t even get up to use the toilet on my own. Haley was patient and took care of me.

Things weren’t perfect between us though. I lost all memories for the week surrounding the accident. The last thing I remembered was flying back to L.A. after wrapping up on location for The Last Ride. Then it’s black after that. I know Haley was at the hospital with me. I vaguely remember her holding my hand and hearing her voice. I know I opened my eyes and saw her face, but things get fuzzy.

I don’t remember walking away from Haley. I don’t know why I would. She is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. It didn’t take long for her to trust me again, and to know that I will never leave her—again.

“What about Haley?” I say, getting defensive.

“You two met when you were filming in Montana, correct?”

I nod. “We did.”

“And it’s a bit of a Cinderella story. Small-town girl, falling behind on payments on the family farm, then she meets her Prince Charming who gives her the happily ever after she was searching for all along.”

I shake my head. “It is a bit of a Cinderella story, but you’ve got the rolls reversed. She gave me the happily ever after.”

I impatiently look out the barn door, waiting for Haley to come home from work. Shakespeare nudges me.

“I know,” I huff. “I’m bored too. And a little nervous,” I admit. Benny paws at the ground. He’s tied up in the crossties, and both he and Shakespeare are saddled and ready for a trail ride through the snowy mountains.

I arrived this morning, just hours after Haley left for work. She’s still writing articles for that small press, still hating it, and still wearing high-collared shirts to work to keep her creeper boss from staring at her tits.

“Maybe she won’t have to do that much longer,” I tell Shakespeare. I zip my coat all the way up and breathe on my cold hands. Gray clouds stretch across the sky, promising snow. I look outside and down the road, feeling impatient. I want to go into the heated tack room and warm my hands—and my toes, my face, well, pretty much my whole body.

But I don’t want to risk missing Haley. I step closer to Shakespeare for warmth. He lowers his head.

“Thanks, mate,” I tell him, pulling my gloves from my pocket and putting them on. Phoenix and Aurelia are still here and will stay here. Aurelia is my horse now, and I want Haley to teach me how to train her. And Phoenix was always going to stay. Her burns finally healed, but it wasn’t without a fight. I still don’t know how Haley did it all: taking care of me, taking care of the horses, and then going to work. She really is amazing.

Sundance and Gandolf found homes. I wasn’t here when they left, but coming back to the barn without them was bittersweet, and caused a little flicker of sadness in my heart that I wasn’t expecting. Their stalls filled quickly, and right now Haley is working with two wild mustangs that were injured during a BLM round up.

The whirl of a car engine echoes across the land, and snow crunches under tires. I peak out the open Dutch doors and smile. I move Shakespeare away from his door. Haley will notice right away when two of her horses don’t lean out to greet her, and she’ll come rushing into the barn.

I hear her Jeep door shut and she calls to Shakespeare. I buy his silence with a carrot. I’m smiling as I wait, and my heart flutters when the barn door slides open.

“Benny!” she exclaims, seeing him in the crossties. “What are you—”

She cuts off when she sees me. “Surprise,” I say, stepping out of Shakespeare’s stall. Her hands fly over her mouth and tears pool in her eyes. She runs to me, and we embrace. I pick her up, spinning her around in my arms, and press her against a stall wall. We kiss, and I suddenly feel warm.

“You said you wouldn’t be home for days!” she cries, wiping her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She’s kissing me again.

“Want to ride?” I ask, running my hands down her body.

She laughs and nods. “Of course.”

“I put riding clothes and your jacket in the tack room.”

She smiles, looking like she’s going to cry again. Just wait, Haley. She breaks away and changes, emerging from the tack room with two helmets. I roll my eyes but put it on. Falling and hitting my head again this soon after the accident would be bad. Very bad.

We mount our horses and slowly walk down the driveway.

“Have you seen that new barn?” I ask as I flick my eyes down the road.

Haley huffs. “I have, but I try to avoid it. It just makes me mad.”

I have to look away so she doesn’t see my smile. “Why?”

“It’s so nice! I’m a little jealous,” she admits.

“Let’s go check it out. You might not be that jealous when you see it.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Fine. I’m curious anyway.”

We cross the street and snow starts to flutter down on us. I feel like I’m in a postcard again as I look at the distant Beartooth Mountains, then back at Haley. She slows Shakespeare as we near that barn.

“I don’t get why no one is using it,” she says. “It’s beautiful. And huge.”

“Yeah, it is big,” I say. “I’d guess it has twelve stalls, two washracks with heated water, a lounge with a viewing window looking at the arena. Oh, and radiant heating throughout to keep it warm in the winter.”

Haley scrunches up her nose. “Yeah, and brass fixtures and—wait, since when do you get so technical about barns…or even know what half that stuff is?”

I shrug and reach into my coat pocket and pull out a small, silver box. “I might have been in there a time or two,” I say, extending my arm. “Happy Christmas, Haley.”