“Say something.”
“Wow.”
“You said that already.”
“I…I don’t know what else to say, Mickey. Are you interested?”
“Interested? Come on, Junk, I think it’s all I ever wanted, ever since I was sixteen, even if I didn’t really know it until a few weeks ago.”
“Yeah?”
“Absolutely. It’s a plan…a…a hope for now, but, yeah.”
“You told Pops that?”
“I did. Then, I hugged him, and he told me to keep both hands on the wheel.”
“Baby steps.”
“Some pretty massive baby steps, but, yeah.”
We walked quite a distance, one hand on the reins, one in each other’s. The quiet darkness around us, the magical dance of snowflakes in intermittent beams of light, there was a dream quality to it all, and I was half afraid I’d wake up and none of it would be real.
“Ow!”
“Shh.” I patted S’mores’ side, in case Mickey’s outburst frightened him.
“Why did you pinch me?” he whispered.
“To make sure I wasn’t dreaming.”
“I don’t think it works that way.”