Sadie’s already home from school by the time the sun starts to dip, backpack abandoned by the door, crayons spread across the counter.
Delaney’s back in the kitchen, humming while she works, laughing with Sadie as if nothing fragile exists in the world. Boone’s thrown himself into routine with the kind of intensity he uses when he doesn’t want to feel something. Silas keeps circling the edges, joking a little too loud, watching everything a little too closely.
And me?
I’m sure I missed a step and don’t know when it happened.
I don’t enjoy not knowing where I stand.
It sits under my skin while I work, while I brush down horses, while I fix a loose hinge on the barn door that doesn’t actually need fixing. My hands stay busy. My head doesn’t.
So eventually, I stop pretending I can wait this out.
Silas catches me pacing near the barn, and I can tell the moment he notices because his expression shifts. Concern sliding in under the humor.
“You’re doing the thing,” he says.
I stop short. “What thing?”
“The quiet spiral,” he replies. “Very subtle. Very you.”
I exhale. “I don’t like this.”
“That’s vague,” he says gently. “But I’m listening.”
I drag a hand through my hair. “I don’t know what we’re doing.”
“With Delaney.”
“With all of it,” I correct. “The cabin didn’t fix anything. It just… paused it.”
He nods slowly. “Yeah. I feel that.”
There’s a beat where he clearly wants to say more. He’s weighing whether to make it a joke and deciding not to.
“I like her,” Silas says finally. “I really do.”
That catches me off guard because of how quietly he says it.
“But I don’t know where we stand,” he continues. “And I’m worried that if I ask, I’ll push her away. She’s already carrying so much. I don’t want to be another voice demanding clarity when she’s still trying to breathe.”
My chest eases and tightens all at once.
“Yeah,” I say. “That’s exactly it.”
Silas exhales, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m not confused about how I feel. I’m just… scared of being the reason she shuts down.”
I nod slowly. “Me too.”
The quiet settles between us, heavier now but strangely steadier. Naming it didn’t fix anything, but it made it real.
I hesitate, then say the thing that’s been pressing on my chest all day. “I need to talk to Boone.”
Silas winces. “You sure?”
“No,” I say. “But I’m doing it anyway.”
He gives me a crooked half smile. “Alright. I’ve got your back.”
