I heave a sigh. “Yeah, it sucks.”
Chase’s gaze is still on me. “You’re OK, right? I mean, you coming here and watching practice—can’t be fun.”
I glance away, jaw tight. “This place has been home for too long. I don’t know where else to go. But I’m not looking for hugs or sympathy.”
“You ever need a hug though…” Chase lifts his arms, coming at me in sweat-soaked pads.
“I can still put your ass on the ground, Chase.”
Jake snorts. “Seriously though, Dylan. We’ve got your back. On the field and off.”
I look at them both—Jake, who beneath the charm is always looking out for others, and Chase, pretending to be the jokester when sometimes I think he’s the most serious of all of us. And I know they mean it. But that doesn’t make the ache any less painful.
Jake nods toward the field. “Did I see you giving the rookies some coaching?”
“Just pointing out something they were doing wrong.”
Chase eyes me for another moment. “You sticking around? Coach has got us doing a meet and greet with some fans. Not exactly my first choice for a Friday evening,” he adds, but I can tell he doesn’t mind really. The fans are the beating heart of this team and we all know it.
“Just needed to get away from the ranch for a while.”
Another look passes between them.
“What?” I ask.
It’s Chase who answers. “Look, not my business, but you bought those horses… You gonna?—”
I groan. “Not you too. I’ve already had Mama on my back this morning.”
Jake is quick to steer the conversation to teasing Chase about the pre-game ritual he developed playing for the Trailblazers—eating exactly four slices of toast with almond butter and listening to Taylor Swift like it’s a religious experience. When they disappear into the locker room, I head for my truck and slam the door too hard as I climb in.I know I don’t belong here anymore. I sure as hell don’t belong at Oakwood Ranch rightnow, either.But I’ve got nowhere else to go.So I turn the key, gun the engine, and head back to the last place I want to be.
SEVEN
IZZY
The sun is still blazing over the paddocks as I step from the barn. It’s late afternoon on Friday andmy shirt is clinging to my back. My muscles ache from a day that started at sunrise and hasn’t let up since. I haven’t eaten. Haven’t showered. Haven’t done any of the things I needed to do for myself. On top of that, I’ve just taken stock of the feed bins and it’s not good. We have less than a week’s worth of food left.
A low rumble breaks the quiet, followed by the crunch of gravel and a cloud of dust kicking up from the road. An engine growls louder, like it’s being summoned by my rage, and when Dylan’s truck pulls into the driveway, I see red.
He climbs out of the cab slowly, like he’s got all the time in the world. Like he hasn’t spent the last week dodging every responsibility on this ranch. Judging by his bloodshot eyes and the dark beard shadowing his jaw, he’s been using his time for late nights and bourbon.
“Hey!” I shout, already marching toward him.
His boots falter, and for a second, I think he might keep walking like he can keep pretending this ranch doesn’t exist.
“Hey! Sullivan!” I snap again, closing the distance between us.
Finally, he turns. If I weren’t so goddamn furious, I might feel sorry for him. But I’m all out of sympathy after a week running this place alone. He’s wearing old jeans and a black tee that stretches over the muscles of his chest and shoulders. Muscles that look tailor-made to make women everywhere swoon.Every woman except me, I correct.
“What is it?” he mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face.
I laugh, the sound edged with bitterness. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I bothering you? I wasn’t sure if you even remembered there were horses on this ranch. You know, the onesyoubought and have left me to take care of alone for the last week?”
“I’m working on something.” He momentarily looks like a deer caught in headlights, betraying his lie.
“What, exactly?” I reply. “Your next disappearing act?”
“If you can’t handle the ranch, Bill shouldn’t have made me take you on.”
