After an early dinner, I help clear the dishes and wipe down the long table out on the covered porch. The breeze is steady,tugging strands of hair from my braid. I pause for a moment, leaning against one of the porch beams, letting my eyes drift out over the land. It stretches for miles, all dust and sun, framed by an infinite looking fence line.
It’s a kind of quiet I’m not used to. Not the silence of dread or disappointment, but a peaceful one. Honest.
Footsteps creak behind me, and I don’t have to turn to know who it is.
“You made it through your first week,” Pace says, his voice light with amusement. “Still standing, too.”
“Barely,” I admit, my voice dry. “Pretty sure I’m feeling every inch of hard work.”
He comes to stand beside me, arms crossed as he looks out over the pasture. “That’s how you know you did it right.”
We fall into an easy silence. One which doesn’t demand conversation. I glance at him, trying to read the shift in his posture. He’s relaxed, but thoughtful, his brow drawn slightly like he’s working something out in his head.
“Most people don’t last past the first day or two,” he says after a moment. “They get their boots dirty and decide they’d rather be anywhere else.”
I don’t say anything. I don’t have to. We both know I don’t have the luxury of leaving.
He turns toward me then, his gaze more serious. “You surprised me this week.”
I blink. “Is that a good thing?”
“Yeah,” he says, nodding once. “It is.”
A small, tentative warmth blooms in my chest. I don’t know what to do with it, so I shift my weight and look away again.
“You know,” he continues, “if you want to learn more about the horses, I can show you how to groom them. Maybe take you out on a longer ride tomorrow. Out past the creek.”
I glance at him, caught off guard. “You’re offering to spend more time with me?”
He smirks, nudging my arm with his elbow. “Don’t make it weird. I’m trying to be nice.”
I smile in spite of myself. It’s small, but it’s real. “Thanks, Pace.”
He shrugs, but there’s something almost proud in the way he lifts his chin. “You’re part of the ranch now. That means something around here.”
I watch him walk off, back toward the barn where the others are finishing up for the day. The sun’s starting to dip low, casting everything in a honey-colored light.
I don’t know how long I’ll be here. I don’t know what’s waiting around the corner.
But for the first time in a long time, I feel like I might be building something instead of only surviving.
And that, more than anything, feels like hope, which is terrifying.
11
I wakean hour before everyone else, dog-tired, having tossed and turned all night. By the time everyone comes down the stairs, I am on my fourth cup of coffee and helping Shiloh place everything on the table.
It’s Saturday, and I know work doesn’t stop on a ranch because it is a weekend, and I was prepared for John to send me out to the barn this morning. Instead, he surprises me by saying Sutton is going to take me out shopping.
“You’re going to need more appropriate clothes,” he says as he loads up his plate with enough food to send me into cardiac arrest if I attempted to eat it. “Sutton noticed you only came with one suitcase. Martin said he gathered everything with your name on it from your old apartment.”
His voice isn’t accusing or hard when he says it. Makes his words even more of a gut punch. Clothes were never on the list of priorities in my household. I squirrelled away money whenever I could, but it always went toward making sure our rent was paid, and we had food in the fridge. My mother cared more about her next fix than having a roof over our head or caring if we ate.
Every few years or so, she would have a month, maybe two, of being sober. Usually after one of her junkie boyfriends left herand she no longer had the hook up. But, like clockwork, she’d find another dirtbag to support her habit and the cycle began all over again.
“Yeah…” I mutter awkwardly. “Um…” A lump grows thick in my throat, making it hard to swallow.
“It okay,” Sutton murmurs, her eyes gentle as she gazes at me. “I was a foster kid. All my belongings had to fit in one trash bag, or I couldn’t keep it.”
