I head inside to write the resignation letter. For the first time in four days, my hands are steady.
Chapter thirty-six
Hazel
The barn is quiet in that pre-dawn way that feels intentional. Like the world is holding its breath.
I move through the aisle alone, lights low, boots soft against packed dirt. The colt lifts his head the second he hears me, nickers once, then settles. Familiar. Steady. I press my forehead briefly to the stall door before I go in.
This part I know how to do.
Brush in hand, I work down his neck in long, even strokes. Check his legs. Pick each hoof. Adjust the blanket. Everything is slow. Methodical. Routine as armor.
On the surface, I'm calm.
Underneath, terror hums sharp and constant.
I chose to stay. The truth of it sits solid in my chest now, undeniable and heavy. But I haven't told him yet. Haven't said the words that matter most.
And today, there's nowhere to hide.
I tighten the girth, double-check the stitching on the saddle, run my fingers along the reins like they might steady me too. The colt shifts, patient, trusting, ready.
I breathe with him. In. Out.
This is the work. This is what grounds me.
In a few hours, I'll have to face Eli.
And everything I've chosen will finally be standing in front of me.
Addie shows up ten minutes later, energy already buzzing off her like static.
She's dressed and ready, helmet under her arm, braid tighter than usual. She stops short when she sees me in the aisle and grins, too wide, too bright.
"Morning," she says. "Or… whatever this counts as."
"Morning," I reply, brushing down the colt's shoulder. "You sleep at all?"
"Barely." She bounces once on her heels, then catches herself and forces stillness. "Big day."
"Yeah," I say evenly. "Big day."
She paces the length of the aisle, then stops near the tack rack, eyes flicking around like she's checking boxes only she can see.
"So Chace is hauling us, right?" she asks. Casual. Almost.
"Yeah," I say. "He'll be here any minute."
She nods, relief flashing across her face before she reins it in. "Okay. Good. I just wanted to make sure."
She doesn't say Eli's name.
Neither do I.
The absence hangs there anyway, obvious as an empty stall. Addie glances toward the far end of the barn once, then squares her shoulders and looks back at the colt.
"He feels good," she says. "I mean—really good."
