I don't answer.
He gives my shoulder a squeeze before letting go. "For what it's worth — you're not wrong to want more than maybe. You never were."
He turns back toward the barn, boots slow on the gravel. Then he pauses without looking back.
"Tomorrow?" he asks quietly.
I stare out at the pasture. "I don't know."
"That's fine," he says. "One day at a time."
He walks away and leaves me standing there alone with the quiet.
This isn't anger.
This is me choosing not to bleed out slowly.
***
By the time Chace heads back, the sun's higher and the morning's half gone.
I stand there another minute. Let the choice finish forming instead of backing out of it.
Then I go looking for Addie.
She's at the rail of the round pen, helmet on, colt walking slow circles. Hazel's not with her. That shouldn't matter. It does.
I don't step inside the pen. Just lean against the fence and wait until Addie notices me.
"Oh—hey." She slows the colt to a stop. "You coming in?"
"No." I clear my throat. "I'm heading out."
She frowns. "Out like… for the day?"
"Yeah." I pause. "For a while actually."
Her frown deepens. "How long's a while?"
"Through the show. I'll be there Saturday, but I'm done training."
She goes still. "What?"
"I'll handle logistics," I say quickly. "Hauling. Paperwork. Whatever you need. But training—Hazel's got it."
"The show's Saturday," Addie says. "You're bailing five days out?"
"I'm not bailing—"
"You're not going to be there." She gestures at the colt. "We've been working toward this for weeks. You, me, Hazel. And now you're just… what? Done?"
"It's not about the colt."
"Then what's it about?"
I hold her gaze. "It's about me needing space."
She studies me, and I watch her piece it together. The missing training this morning. The careful way I'm holding myself. The fact that I won't look toward the barn.
