“What am I doing on my ranch, you mean?”
“A ranch you haven’t shown up to for over a week, you mean?”
I stop myself from vocalizing the expletives running through my head. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”
“Well, you’re late.” She gestures toward the paddocks. “Feeding’s done. Water’s topped. Moonlight’s checked.”
Suddenly, my pulse is racing. Who the hell does this woman think she is? Izzy’s glare is ice cold, but when our eyes lock, something flitters through the back of my mind, something that feels a lot more dangerous than anger.
“If you’re looking to help,” she continues, “you can start by getting the stalls up and running. The horses are fine outside for now, but they’ll need cover if it rains and the barn is in no state to hold them. And Moonlight’s gonna need somewhere to foal. She’s due on the twentieth of August. Less than five weeks.”
“Got it,” I mutter, heading for the barn without another word.
My boots hit the ground, every step feeling heavier than the last, like they’re encased in cement. I thought I’d be packing for training camp today like Jake and Chase, relishing the buzz of a new season. Not here, not doing this.
Hours later, I’m slumped on a stool in the shade of the barn door, a bridle in my lap and sweat dripping down my back. Every joint, every muscle aches like I’ve run four quarters straight, no timeouts, and no crowd to cheer me on.
My hands throb with blisters from the repairs to the stalls earlier. Why didn’t I search out a pair of work gloves? I’m sure Dad’s old ones are still in the boot room somewhere. Something tells me he’d be laughing his head off at my pathetic attempts at ranching today.
At least the stalls inside the barn are halfway to being fixed and Moonlight will have a safe place to foal. A few more days and they’ll be safe to house the horses when we need to. The work is nothing flashy—pulling out the rotten slats of wood that divide the stalls, adding new slats, replacing nails, sanding down splinters. It should’ve been done a week ago. I know better than anyone how fast storms roll off the mountains. If we’d hit bad weather last week, the horses would’ve had nowhere to go, and that’s on me.
I’m here now, I remind myself, even if I don’t want to be.
My thoughts pull back to this morning and Izzy’s biting question.
What are you doing here?
The truth is, I don’t know. My time would be better spent calling Dad’s old friends, putting the word out I’m looking for a buyer, and yet I’m hammering wood and polishing bridles. I curse under my breath and scrub a hand over my face. I glance toward the far paddock, where Izzy and Madison are grooming one of the stallions. I’ve kept my distance from the horses today. Even just looking at them stirs something raw in me. Theyremind me of Dad—of how much this ranch meant to him. They remind me of my failure.
Looking at Izzy does the same damn thing. She belongs out here, and she knows I don’t. She sees all the ways I’ve fucked up and it’s a kick in the guts I can’t outrun. And then there’s her smart mouth, always ready with a comeback, always so sure of herself. Sharp-tongued and whip-smart, and that only makes it worse—makesmefeel worse.
But there’s something softer about Izzy when she’s with Madison. The sharp edges of her sarcasm and judgment have smoothed out today. Her face lights up, her cheeks catching the golden light of the setting sun. For a second, she looks… approachable. More than approachable. I think of our fight yesterday, how I stepped in to give her a piece of my mind, and instead caught the scent of her perfume—a fresh sea breeze and something sweet. Subtle in a way that had me wanting to move closer.
I shake the thought away, remembering the woman who’s spent all day telling me how I’m doing everything wrong.
Movement on the porch catches my attention and Mama appears, hollering across the ranch like she used to when she wanted to call us in as kids. “Wash up! Dinner’s ready in twenty!”
Izzy leans down, saying something to Madison, who nods before they both start walking back toward their trailer. I heave a sigh. Of course Mama invited them to dinner. The realization comes with another tug of guilt. Izzy’s new here and working for me. It’s a dick move that I didn’t do it myself. But tonight’s dinner isn’t about Izzy or the ranch. It’s a goodbye dinner for Jake and Chase. Tomorrow they leave for their week-long training camp in Flagstaff ahead of their three pre-season games next month.
I want to be happy for my brothers, but this dinner is a reminder of everything I’ve lost. Even as I start up the polish again, I know I’ll suck it up for Mama and for Jake and Chase. I showed up today on the ranch. I can show up for them tonight even if it feels like I’m being sucker-punched again and again.
The blisters on my hands throb as I carry the polished bridles into the barn. I’m halfway through hanging them on the hooks in the newly organized tack room when I feel a presence behind me. Little feet, little eyes.
“You’re doing it wrong,” Madison says, voice matter-of-fact.
“Excuse me?” I raise my brows at this miniature version of Izzy. Although this version is half my height and a lot nicer.
“The straps shouldn’t twist like that.” She steps closer, taking a bridle from me and showing me how to hang it. “See? It keeps them neat. It’ll make it easier to slip over their heads.”
“Thanks,” I reply, rehanging the bridles. “Your mom wasn’t kidding about you knowing your way around a ranch.”
She beams at the compliment. “Mom says she likes horses better than people.”
“That sounds about right.”
“Except me. I’m her favorite human.” Madison grins as she skips out of the barn.
“So I guess that means I’m her second favorite, right?” I joke, following her out, knowing I’m bottom of Izzy’s list.
