“I know you’re on a break, but when will you head back to compete again?” my mother asked.
“I’ll move back to North Carolina, where I train, at the end of July for the Valley International competition.” There was an odd hesitation in her voice. “And then I’ll attend the HamptonClassic on Labor Day weekend in New York. I’m registered to compete in both events.”
“You’ll be gone before the wedding,” Henley sighed, since she and Easton were getting married that weekend.
“You’ll need to send me lots of pictures.” Wren reached for her water.
“Could you teach me to be a horse girl, too?” Melody asked over a mouthful of food. Archer gave her a pointed look, which was code for her to finish chewing, because she dramatically did exactly that. “Please, Wren?”
“Sure. I’d love to get you up there and show you the ropes. I’ve actually thought about teaching and coaching. You could be my first student.”
I expected Archer to get all panicked like he always did, but instead he smiled. “I think you’d be lucky to have Wren teach you to ride. She’s one of the best riders of our time.”
“Wow. Remind me to come to dinner here more often. My ego needed a good pick-me-up after the last few months,” she said.
That had always been one of my favorite qualities about her. No matter how much money her family had, or how much success she’d achieved—she’d always been humble and down to earth.
Completely unaffected.
And that wasn’t the norm when people reached her level of success.
“Will we ride at Uncle A’s ranch?” Melody asked. “’Cause I loves to come there and see my uncle.”
Wren glanced up from where she sat beside me, almost like she was asking me for permission.
“Of course. You can work together anytime you want.”
“Yes!” Melody did a fist-pump. “I want to be a horse girl just like you, Wrenny.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Wren said.
Melody left to use the restroom, and the moment she was gone, Bridger didn’t hold back.
“What’s going on with that dickhead brother of yours?” he asked, forking a bite of coleslaw and shoveling it into his mouth.
Emilia gaped at him. “You can’t say that. He’s her brother.”
“I can say it. And I just did say it.” He shrugged. “I’m sure she knows he’s a dickhead. That’s not a secret.”
“Bridger!” Ellie shrieked at her son, but she was shaking her head and smiling at the same time. “We need to work on that filter of yours.”
“It’s fine,” Wren said. “What he did to Emerson is inexcusable. Trust me, we’ve had many tough talks about it. And I’m the first to say that she actually dodged a bullet not marrying him after what he did.”
“Well, we didn’t invite you here tonight to make you feel like you have to defend your brother,” Mom said, her gaze soft as she looked at Wren.
“Some things are not defensible. I’m just grateful that you’re all still speaking to me after what he did. And now the scandal is my father and his mistress—I know it’s the talk of the town.” She cleared her throat and blew out a breath. “Thank you for not making me feel like an outsider.”
My hand found hers beneath the table. I couldn’t help myself. Wren was always so strong and stoic, and this was a rare vulnerable side that she didn’t show often.
She didn’t push my hand away as she sat completely still, waiting for a response.
“Hey,” Lulu said, waiting for Wren to look up at her. “Take it from someone whose family isa lot… We would never hold you accountable for someone else’s actions.”
“Agreed,” Emilia said with a laugh. “My parents own the paper that publishes stories about everyone in town. I know what it’s like to be judged for their actions, and it isn’t fair.”
She smirked at Bridger, who sat beside her eating, and he winced. “Nor can one be judged for stupidity, right? I’ve made some mistakes. But I’ve learned.”
Emilia leaned her head against his shoulder. “You have.”
