Respect.
And maybe, just maybe, a beginning.
The sun glares off the metal siding of the barn as we approach, and for a second, the brightness feels like stepping into a spotlight, like every vulnerability I've tried to bury is lit up and on display. Maybe that's what makes me trip.
Or maybe it's the weight of growing trust pressing heavy against the walls I've spent years building. and I blink against the sudden light. My boots catch on the uneven ground, just a little dip where the gravel's worn down, and before I can stop it, I stumble.
A strong hand shoots out, catching me by the arm and yanking me upright with surprising gentleness. Emmy giggles and runs off to find Harper.
Cash’s fingers tighten just for a second, steadying me, anchoring me. His brows lift. "You good?"
I nod, breath stuck somewhere between embarrassment and something that feels an awful lot like electricity. "Yep. Just testing your reflexes."
He doesn't smile, but something in his eyes flickers, amusement, or maybe that same spark that’s been hanging between us all morning.
"Try not to break your neck before lunch," he mutters, letting go.
But I catch the ghost of a smirk as he turns away.
And I swear, even my stumble feels like a small victory.
Chapter six
Secrets in the Hayloft
Cash
The air in the barn is thick with heat and memory. I push the heavy door open and step inside, the scent of hay, dust, and old wood wrapping around me like a second skin. It smells the same as it always did, sun-warmed and familiar.
But with Avery behind me, her footsteps echoing softly against the planks, everything feels different. Sharper.
"Haven't been up there in a while, ranch hands do this." I say, jerking my chin toward the ladder that leads to the hayloft.
She looks up, shielding her eyes from the sun shafting in through the rafters. "I used to sneak up there to hide from my dad when I didn’t want to do chores. Thought it was my secret spot."
"It wasn't." I grab the first rung. "He always knew. He just let you think you were getting away with it."
That earns a soft laugh. “That sounds like him.”
I climb first, the ladder creaking under my boots, and she follows, her breath uneven, a soft rhythm I try not to focus on but fail miserably. At the top, the hayloft stretches wide and golden in the afternoon light, dust motes dancing in the air like lazy fireflies. It's quiet. Still.
Avery brushes loose strands of hair behind her ear as she steps beside me, her eyes scanning the space. “It’s smaller than I remember.”
“Everything is when you’re grown.”
We stand in silence for a second too long. Then she turns to me, her voice softer. “You ever come up here?”
My lips twitch. “Once or twice. Usually to escape your dad’s temper or Billy Mac’s jokes.”
She smiles, but there’s something wistful behind it. “I kissed my first boy up here.”
The words hit harder than they should. I cross my arms. “Wasn’t me.”
“Nope. Might’ve been better if it was.”
That pulls my gaze to hers fast. Her cheeks go a little pink, but she doesn’t look away. Doesn’t back down.
And just like that, the air changes. Thickens. The past presses in on all sides, wrapping around us until all I can hear is her breath and mine.
