Prologue
Do I Wanna Know – Arctic Monkeys
Gunner
Three years ago.
I’d dreamt about her nearly every night, for a whole damn week.
Not that I was losing sleep over Cassidy Turner. And the dreams weren’t anything sentimental. They were the kind of dreams you don’t mention to your brothers. The kind that makes you wake up annoyed with yourself, and hard as hell.
It was stupid, she was just a teacher. An impossible-to-ignore teacher who dressed like summertime, all the time, and looked at me like I was the punchline to some private joke. And yeah, she showed up in my head sometimes. So what?
I leaned against the hood of my truck outside Bertie’s school and told myself I hadn’t volunteered to pick up my niece just so I could see Miss. Turner.
The late afternoon sun was low and sharp, turning the blacktop to liquid and making every kid scream twice as loud, or so it seemed. Parents clogged up the curb, hollering names, honking, waving and trying to out-do each other in the warmth of their greeting for their kid. Next semester would be different because the principal was introducing a pick-up line. Fucking A.
Wanting to stay out of the rumpus, I stayed where I was. Still. Quiet. Watching the door.
Then I saw her.
Cassidy crouched near the flagpole, zipping up a kid’s backpack and then adjusting the strap on it, like she had nowhere else to be. Her hair was up, for a change. Usually it was down, cascading over her shoulders and nearly hitting her ass. Straight but a little messy like she didn’t take herself too seriously. She stood, brushed her hands off on her red and white checkered skirt and started to walk back toward the double doors.
She didn’t see me.
She never did.
Some days I convinced myself she did it on purpose. Ignored me. Like she knew exactly how I looked at her when she wasn’t looking. Other days I figured she just didn’t think about me at all.
Maybe one of these days I’d ask her out on a date. Then she’d think about me every damn day. I’d make sure of it.
Bertie exploded out of the building, like she’d been shot from a cannon, arms flailing, backpack jiggling, hair looking like a bald eagle had nested in it.
“You’re late,” I said as she skidded to a stop in front of me.
“Uncle Gunner, can you not complain? This heat is killing me.”
God this kid was too dramatic and funny for seven years of age.
Once she was safely buckled into her seat in the back of my truck, I took one last look at the school as I rounded the hood.
Cassidy was gone.
It didn’t matter, though. No doubt I’d dream about her again and maybe tomorrow I’d ask her out for dinner. It couldn’t hurt. Right?
Chapter 1
Complicated – Avril Lavigne
Gunner
Ileaned against the paddock fence, watching as Songbird nudged her foal with her velvet nose. The mare’s eyes caught mine for a moment, deep, knowing eyes that could see every storm in my head. She didn’t bolt, even though everything in her probably wanted to protect her baby. She just stood there trusting I wouldn’t hurt either of them. I wondered what that kind of faith felt like, to give someone your fear and hope they held it gently.
That was just one of the things I loved about horses. That and how they carried their wildness just beneath the surface yet chose to offer gentleness instead. Like me, I suppose. The need to run free battling against the desire to belong. That need to bond with everyone, for them to like me, yet at the same time, the desire to stay wild and untethered.
Nearby, Ariel, my old horse, grazed lazily under the wide oak tree, her chestnut coat catching the low morning light. She was a good horse, steady, patient, the kind you’d trust withanyone, kids, beginners, even stubborn ranchers like me. There was something about her, though, something fierce and loyal beneath the calm. She’d run through a storm if you asked her to. She was retired now but had been mine since I was eight years old and barely a day went by where I didn’t talk to her. She was my constant. My tether to the past.
Watching Songbird and her foal graze, and Ariel just beyond them, a great sense of calm settled over me. No background noise, no mental buzz, just steady breaths and the whisper of the breeze. The sky was heavy with spring storm clouds, the kind that carried more than just rain. It mirrored something in me, unspoken, brewing, waiting to break open.
