“You’re making good progress.”
He grins, brushing a hand over his forehead.
“Getting there. Thought I’d knock out the counter today, then we can start thinking about the finishing touches.”
I nod, trying to focus on his words and not the lingering heat in my body, the way my skin still feels too warm, or the way my thoughts keep circling back to Ford, and that morning in the tent.
As he steps past me, his shoulder brushes mine lightly, and then he glances back with a crooked smile and a quick, but unmistakable glance at my neckline.
“Nice dress, by the way. Very … distracting.”
I freeze for half a beat, caught off guard. He’s already moving into the shop, like he didn’t just say something that made my stomach twist. I laugh, too quickly, and follow him inside, trying to ignore the tightness in my throat.
It was probably just a joke. Probably.
33
Ford
Isit on the hay-strewn floor of one of the stable stalls, cradling the bottle in my hands and guiding it gently to the foal’s mouth. She hesitates for a moment, then latches on, her tiny body trembling with effort.
“That's a good girl,” I tell her, stroking her soft neck as she feeds. Her coat is still downy, pale and golden in the evening light that filters through the slats in the stable wall.
Just outside the stall, Buddy sits with his head tilted, watching quietly through the wooden bars. His ears twitch every time the foal shifts, but he stays still, like he knows this moment needs calm.
Star gave birth just a couple of days after the camping trip, and I’ve been pretty busy ever since, tending to her and her new foal. Jensen’s been helping a lot, too, ever since it became clear that Star had rejected her baby. It happens sometimes.
Maybe it’s the trauma from her last home. Whatever she endured there, it seems to have left her wary and distant, now that she’s had the little one. She won’t let the foal feed, won’t let her close.
Jensen, Kit, and I have been bottle-feeding the foal, while also trying to encourage some kind of maternal bond, but Star’s having none of it. She watches from the corner of the stall, ears flicking, eyes guarded.
It’s been tough. Frustrating. Sad. But at least both mother and baby are healthy. And for now, that’s enough.
Kit appears in the doorway, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hand, his hair tousled, and his school bag slung over one shoulder. He gives me a tired smile and leans against the frame for a moment, blinking hard like he’s trying to force himself to stay awake.
He’s been here every morning before school, and again in the evenings, making sure to help in any way he can. I’m grateful for it. He’s juggling this between homework and looking after everyone at home and still shows up without complaint. He’s a good kid. And right now, I don’t know what I’d do without him.
It’s exhausting, but none of us grumbles. Not out loud anyway.
Still, the tired lines around Kit’s eyes say enough. He gives me a soft nod, then glances at the foal with something like pride, like he knows she’s still here because we didn’t give up on her.
“I’m gonna head home,” he says, voice low and scratchy with fatigue. “Got a test tomorrow that I should probably pretend to study for.”
I glance toward the open stable door, surprised by how dark the sky is turning. The light’s fading fast, and the air has that soft chill that creeps in just before night settles.
“Alright,” I say, still seated on the hay, gently supporting the bottle as the foal feeds. “Get home safe. And thank you… for everything.”
He shrugs, but his smile is less nonchalant. “Anytime.”
I hear his footsteps crunch away, slow and uneven and a moment later, a voice drifts faintly from outside. It’s Kit’s, casual and low. Then two more voices respond, too quiet to make out. Just the soft murmur of conversation, carried on the cooling evening air.
I’m watching the foal’s ears twitch as she suckles, when I hear footsteps approaching, lighter, quicker than Kit’s had been. Then Missy’s voice cuts through the quiet.
“She hasn’t seen her yet,” she says, and I glance up to see her walking towards the stall with Stormy trailing just behind. “I knew she’d love her. Thought it was time for a proper introduction.”
I give Missy a look—one I know she understands. The kind that says ‘really?’
She just raises her eyebrows and shrugs, lips twitching into a smug little smile. The ‘what are you going to do about it?’ kind.
