"Could expand the herd then," he said, looking out over his land with quiet pride. "Maybe add some goats. Sophia wants goats."
"It's wonderful," I said. "All of it. You've built something real here."
"It's home." He looked at me. "Yours too, for as long as you want, as long as you need."
By the time we made it back to the barn for Poet's evening feeding, I was exhausted but in the best way. My body ached from movement instead of stillness, from living instead of hiding.
Liam showed me how to measure Poet's grain, how to check her water, the way she liked her neck scratched after eating. The horse leaned into me, content, and I felt something in my chest ease. Something that had been clenched tight since LA finally relaxed.
"Thank you," I said as we walked back to my cabin in the golden evening light. "For today. For Poet. For all of it."
"You look better," he said simply. "More like yourself."
"I feel better. Tired but... good tired. Like I did something instead of just surviving."
"That's the thing about animals," he said. "They don't care what happened to you yesterday. They just care about right now. Sometimes that's exactly what we need."
At my cabin door, I turned to him. "Will you teach me to ride? When I'm ready?"
"Whenever you want. Poet's been waiting for you. I think we all have."
The words hung between us, weighted with more than just friendship. But it wasn't scary. It was possibility. Hope. Maybe even a future.
I have him a smile, small but real. “Goodnight, Lee."
"Night, Steph. Sleep well."
I went inside, feeling something I hadn't felt in months—safe. Not just protected, but actually safe in my own skin. The day had been perfect. Normal. Healing in ways I hadn't expected.
Tomorrow I'd go see Poet again. Learn more about caring for her. Maybe try sitting in the saddle. Small steps toward something bigger.
For now, I showered off the good kind of dirt—horse and hay and honest work—and crawled into bed feeling exhausted and happy and hopeful.
Outside, I could hear the normal sounds of evening on a ranch. Horses settling for the night. That ridiculous rooster making one last announcement. Liam's boots on his porch, the creak of his door.
Safe sounds. Home sounds.
I fell asleep smiling, dreaming of horses with pretty blue eyes and patient hands and the possibility of healing into something even stronger than before.
Chapter 8
Liam
The next afternoon, the shadows were long across the pasture when I called LAPD. The sun was sinking low enough that the tops of the live oaks were catching fire with orange light.
Detective Harrell answered like a man who already knew he didn’t have good news.“Walker,” he said. “I’ll give it to you straight. Nothing new. We’ve got… nothing.”
The words hit harder in the quiet end-of-day air.
“Nothing,” I repeated.
“We canvassed again. Pulled more camera angles. Re-interviewed the assistant. Ran prints. Reviewed everything the security company sent.” He exhaled, tired. “The trail’s cold. Ice cold.”
Cold. That familiar, sharp punch to the ribs.
“Copy,” I said, even though every muscle in my jaw locked. “If anything changes?—”
“You’ll be my first call.”
