Mia talked. Really talked. Words tumbling out like she’d been saving them up for years. About Honey. About school. About wanting to learn to ride for real. About a girl in her class named Sophie who had her own horse and competed in shows on weekends.
“She said I could come watch sometime,” Mia said, reaching for another piece of bread, her voice casual—but hopeful. “If that’s okay. Her family has a ranch too, but smaller. She said their horses are nice.”
“That sounds fun.” Liam glanced up, interested. “When’s the next show?”
“Two weeks, I think. Maybe three.” Mia hesitated, something uncertain flickering across her face. “You don’t think it’s stupid? Wanting to do horse stuff?”
“Why would it be stupid?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged, eyes dropping to her plate. “Some people think it’s weird. For girls to like horses so much.”
“Some people are idiots.”
He said it so matter-of-factly that Mia’s head snapped up.
Liam shrugged. “What? They are. Horses are incredible. Anyone who thinks it’s weird to love them isn’t worth listening to.”
Mia stared at him for a moment.
Then, slowly, she smiled.
Not the careful, almost-smile I’d grown used to—but a real one. The kind that carried something fragile and brave. Something that looked a lot like trust.
I watched them across the table, my chest aching with something that felt dangerously like hope.
After Mia went to bed, I found Liam on the porch.
He was sitting on the top step, leaning back against the railing, face tilted up toward the sky. Night sounds surrounded us—crickets, horses shifting in the barn, wind moving through the grass like whispered secrets. The stars were impossibly bright out here, away from the city lights, scattered across the black like someone had spilled diamonds.
I sat down beside him, close enough to feel his warmth without quite touching. Touching would mean feeling that heat again—and I wasn’t sure I was ready for that.
The silence between us was comfortable now. Lived-in. The kind of silence that didn’t need filling, that came from hours spent working side by side, from shared meals and evenings like this one—sitting in the dark and letting the day settle.
“Owen told me about the cat rescue,” I said, keeping my eyes on the dark pasture instead of him. “The one on Fifth Street.”
Liam groaned. “Owen needs to learn to keep his mouth shut.”
“He said the cat was feral.”
“Feral is an understatement. That cat was demonic. I’m pretty sure it was possessed.”
“He said it chased you up a tree.”
“It did not chase me.” Liam turned toward me, indignation written all over his face. I held my stare on the pasture for half a second longer—then looked at him anyway. “I was strategically retreating. There’s a difference.”
“He said you fell into Mrs. Patterson’s birdbath.”
“That birdbath came out of nowhere. It was a hazard. A lawsuit waiting to happen.”
I laughed—an actual laugh, caught off guard by it, the sound spilling out before I could stop it. It felt unfamiliar, like using a muscle I hadn’t trusted in a long time.
Liam went still beside me. When I turned, he was already watching, his expression caught somewhere between warmth and surprise. Like he’d stumbled onto something rare. Like he was committing the sound to memory.
“What?” I lifted an eyebrow, the smile still lingering.
“Nothing.” He shook his head, but the look didn’t fade. “Just… you should do that more often.”
“What?”
