Mum was right, his blaze was sweet; but, for fuck's sake, calling him, Sugar, was character assignation. Even as a gangly foal, his face screamed white lightening. In utero, he was my mother's horse, but the devil-may-care fire in those newborn eyes drew me in. Shamelessly, I played the daughter card; pouting, even stamping my foot, until my parents caved in. What twenty-two-year-old
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