“I named a horse after you. New filly—mean as all hell. Bit me on the shoulder,” he rattles off. As usual, he’s completely unperturbed by my rudeness. “So, her name is Atlas. Better than Daisy, which is what it was when we bought her. I have never met a horse less like a daisy.” “You named your horse Atlas because it bit you,” I summarize, feeling oddly pleased with this. He grins. “Fair.
