It feels like the whole town’s been waiting for my sister’s return. So have I. She brings life and adventure wherever she goes. The ranch is too quiet without her. My brothers focus on business. Mom cooks, keeps the house and pitches in on bigger tasks. When McKenna’s home, we joke around more. She’s the first sign of spring after months of winter.
I pull into the ranch. The driveway’s already partly full. This evening, trucks and cars will line the fences all the way to the main road. Everyone’s coming over to welcome my sister back after two months away.
I drive to the spot next to the barn. It’s set a little way back from the main house. I park my truck and walk into the stables. The air smells of hay and the faint scent of manure.
“Hey, Jasper,” I say to my American Paint.
He makes his way to the stable door and lifts his head. My hand rests on his forehead and slowly slides down the bridge of his nose. My shoulders loosen and I let out a long breath the second my hand touches him. We got Jasper when he was only a two-year-old foal, full of the energy typical of his Thoroughbred bloodline. I loved shaping him, training on my off days, teaching him how to tolerate a saddle. Now that he’s five, anyone can ride him and he’s even able to pull his weight around the ranch. Mostly, he lives a life of leisure, unless I’m the one taking him out.
We’ve built a bond, Jasper and I.
“Feel like a ride?” I ask him, already moving to the tack on the wall so I can pull his blanket, bridle and saddle.
He whinnies and I smile.
Once Jasper is saddled up, I lead him out the back barn door and into the pasture. Then I mount him and give him one nudge with my heel to his hindquarter. We take off barelytrotting before accelerating into a lope and then a full gallop. The wind lifts my hair. My thighs grip Jasper’s sides and we roll as one through tall grass, past trees and creeks. We both needed this.
We ride the property line, my breathing matching Jasper’s rhythm, tension lifting into the cool late-winter air. My thoughts settle.
I stop at a wider creek on the way back to the barn, releasing the reins and dismounting so Jasper can drink.
“Happy Valentine’s, buddy,” I say to my horse. “A day late, but it looks like you’re the love of my life this year.”
He ignores me and draws cool sips of water before lifting his head and allowing me to rest my hand on his neck, stroking under the mane.
Our ride back is slower, neither of us eager for it to end. More cars fill the driveway—our friends and family all arriving for McKenna’s homecoming. I strip Jasper of his saddle and blanket, brushing him out and filling his bucket with special feed.
Then I take one of the quads to my cabin, shower and drive back to the main house.
Chapter 3
Carli
Friends are the siblings God never gave us.
~ Mencius
I’ma half hour early to the Nashville airport, so I pull into the terminal garage across from baggage claim and pull out my cell. My travel mug of coffee, music on the radio, and my ebook should help me pass the time. But I’m antsy with excitement to see McKenna after two months of absence.
My girlfriends and I spend plenty of time together, but McKenna fills a space in my life no other friend does.
My phone pings with her text.
McKenna: We landed. See you in a hot minute.
Carli: I’m in the terminal garage. Just walk straight out from baggage claim. I can’t wait to see you!
I try to focus on my book, but I can’t. A few minutes later, my phone rings.
“Heyyyy!” There’s something about hearing McKenna’s voice that always brings me back to myself.
“Hey!”
“I just have to grab my bags. How are you?”
“I’m good. The drive down was nice. Gave me time to sort my thoughts.”
“I’m starving. But I don’t want to eat until we get back to Waterford. I want to pop into Syd and Emberleigh’s.”
