“Well?”
He waves it off. “No big deal. Just gives me an excuse to come back out here and see you all again.”
Charli snorts beside me.
Dixon’s eyes flick to me, warm and curious. “Actually … I was wondering if maybe you’d wanna grab a drink this weekend?”
The question hits me sideways.
“I—” I start.
“Sure,” Charli says brightly. “She’d love that.”
I shoot her a look.
Dixon just grins. “I’ll text you later.”
“Okay, um, sure. That’d be great.”
Then he’s back in his truck and pulling away.
“You’re welcome,” Charli chirps as she picks up a bucket and follows Cabe into the barn.
“Whatever,” I call after her.
I glance toward the porch.
Waylon is watching.
And he looks … pissed.
Not glaring exactly. Just tight. Jaw set. Shoulders stiff.
What the hell is his problem?
We’ve been getting along better the last couple of weeks. He’s been on time to every lesson, like he promised. Sometimes freshly showered. Sometimes covered in dirt. But he shows up.
Ruby’s been doing great.
Last session, I introduced trotting, and she took to it like she’d been doing it her whole life. Growing more confident every day.
I walk up to the porch just as Ruby finishes her lemonade. Her cookies sit untouched on the plate.
That’s unusual.
“You ready, kiddo?” I ask.
She nods, but she doesn’t meet my eyes.
“Okay,” I say gently. “Let’s go see Honey.”
We walk to the barn, Ruby quiet between us. I tack Honey up and run Ruby through a few drills, but something’s off. Ruby is unfocused, missing cues she normally nails, her shoulders slumping, like she’s carrying a weight she doesn’t know how to name.
I call it early.
Ruby nods when I tell her and heads toward the house to use the bathroom.
Waylon exhales. “Sorry about that. She didn’t sleep great last night.”
