I swing open the gate that leads to our open paddock and let out a sharp whistle. Blue lifts his head from the grass, ears twitching forward before he pushes into a trot, all muscle and easy grace.
I’d be lying if I said my head hadn’t been in scrambles all morning, full of things I’m unsure of. But if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s this—when I’m on a horse, I’m at ease. Out here, I’m untouchable. Just me, the wind, and the rhythm of hooves on dirt. On the next rise, I let Blue stretch out, and he surges forward, hooves drumming a steady thunder under me. It clears more than just my head. It clears the overthinking, the spirals, the weight. Out here, it’s simple again. But even here—free and high and fast—it’s not the horizon I see when I close my eyes. It’s him. That stare. Hazel-green, cut with blue.
I’m still chewing on that thought when I spot movement near the lower fence. A flash of white. Then another. Then three little goats, smug as hell, trotting along the wrong side of the pen.“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” I pull Blue to a halt and narrow my eyes. “How the hell did you guys get out?”
A tiny black goat pauses to look at me, chewing something with theatrical innocence. “At least it’s not Kevin,” I mutter, already steering Blue down toward the chaos. I dismount, snap the reins over the post, and stomp toward the escapees. “Come on, you lot. Back in the pen. Don’t give me that look.”
One of them darts left. I curse, swing around, and cut her off before she can bolt down the field.Nope. Not today.I clap sharply, raising my arms wide, herding them in.
“Let’s go. March it back. You’ve had your fun.” Miraculously, they listen, or maybe they’re just bored. Either way, I manage to wrangle the trio through the gate, slam it shut, and double-check the latch this time.
“Honestly,” I breathe out, brushing dirt off my hands. “You’re all lucky you’re cute.” I swing back into the saddle and nudge Blue forward. He responds instantly, galloping down the slope. We head for the barn, and wind tugs at my shirt, everything behind me blurring into nothing. I cool Blue down slowly, walking wide lazy circles until his chest isn’t heaving, before I slide off. The smell of dust, horse, and hay fills my lungs. But underneath that, there’s something else. Something I only smell when I’m here. The version of me that doesn’t care what people think. The girl who never had to ask if she was enough. I shut the gate behind me, pat his flank once, and head toward the driveway where Sebastian’s ute is still parked.
Just as I reach for my keys, my phone buzzes.
Sebastian:Big accident on Willow Road. Traffic’s backed up heading into town.
Sebastian:Take the back way.
I stare at the messages a moment longer than I should. They’re short. Simple. Informative. He didn’t need to send it. He thought about where I was going. When I’d leave. How long it would take me to get there. It’s thoughtful. Too thoughtful. But no doubt, it’s just to make sure I’m on time to pick up his son. That’s what I tell myself, anyway. Not because he cares where I am. Or how my morning’s going.Nope.I shove the phone into my back pocket and climb into the driver’s seat, biting back the stupid smile that still tries to creep up anyway.
18
Sebastian
It started with Teddy. Of course it did. Just after sunrise this morning, he padded into the kitchen, pyjamas still half twisted, tugging at my sleeve before I’d even taken my first sip of coffee. He told me Liv said he could visit her farm and meet Blue. I told him she probably hadn’t meant today, but he blinked up at me and calmly said, in the way only a five-year-old can, thatshe promised.
And that was it. End of discussion.
Weekends with him are precious and way too short. I should be grateful for the time we get, but sometimes, forty-eight hours feels like a handful of sand slipping through my fingers. So now I’m behind the wheel, gravel kicking up a cloud behind us as my car crawls up the long dirt road toward her property. And there she is.
Boots planted wide. Faded jeans hugging curves I’ve spent far too long trying not to notice. Her white tank clings to her sun-warmed skin, and a cowboy hat tips low, barely containing that wild mess of golden-touched hair.
Trouble in denim.That’s what she is.
Trouble that laughs too loud and smells like sunshine and hay.
I park beside the stables and kill the engine. Sitting for a second longer than I should, I finally climb out, running a hand down the front of my shirt, like that’ll fix the state of my thoughts. It doesn’t. But I school my face into something neutral and remind myself why we’re here.
Teddy wanted to see the horse.
She waves, a beaming smile already locked and loaded. “Well, well. Look what the wind blew in.” I bite back the urge to roll my eyes, because I’m supposed to be an adult—theadult.
“Yeah, yeah. This has your name written all over it, Trouble.” The nickname slips out for thr second time.
Her grin only widens. “Oh, yeah? What gave it away?”
I jerk my chin toward the ground, where Teddy’s practically vibrating with excitement. “Oh, I don’t know. Making promises to this one, maybe? Hoping I wouldn’t notice.”
“Me?” She gasps, dramatic hand to chest. “Never.”
Teddy giggles beside me—actual, honest-to-God laughter—and I have to glance twice to make sure it’s real. My kid doesn’t laugh like that often. Not freely. Not easily. When he hides his face behind his hands, I follow his line of sight back to her, just in time to catch her winking.
Blushing.My son is blushing. I didn’t even know he could.
Something tight and unfamiliar cinches in my chest, twisting hard. Teddy’s voice pulls me out of it. “Is that Blue?”
He’s pointing at the beast of a horse beside her, coat like storm clouds, eyes steady, muscles rippling beneath dark silver. It should look intimidating. Hell, I wouldn’t get close. But Olivia has her hand under its jaw like it’s nothing.
