EliDawson.
We'd spent our whole lives in each other's barns. Learned to ride together, showed horses together. Our fathers traded labor during busy seasons.
Best friends our whole lives.
Until I left.
The smell of coffee pulls me to the kitchen.
Aunt Mae stands at the stove, bacon sizzling in the pan.
"Well," she says without turning. "You survived."
I slide into a chair. "Barely."
She glances over her shoulder, amused. "How many times have I told you to pace yourself?."
"My whole life."
"And you never listen." She sets a plate in front of me and slides over water. "Drink that first."
I obey.
Mae leans against the counter, watching me with that knowing look she's perfected over the years. "Eli dropped you off late."
I freeze for half a second, then pick up my fork. "Yeah."
"Didn't stay long. Just made sure you were inside."
I nod. "That sounds like him."
She studies me a moment longer. "You should check on Blaze today. He's been restless, pacing the fence line like he's waiting for something."
My grip tightens on the fork. "He probably knows I'm back."
Mae's voice softens. "He's missed you."
So has everything else I left behind.
The barn is cooler inside, layered with familiar scents—hay and leather and dust. Wood creaks softly as the structure settles around me.
I walk slowly, letting my eyes adjust to the dimmer light.
Then I notice what's missing. Empty stalls line the far wall, doors latched open to nothing. Feed bins sit unused against the wall, clean and waiting for horses to fill them. The barn feels too big, too quiet—like something vital has been hollowed out.
These stalls used to hold horses people drove in from three states away to board and train with us. My dad's reputation meant something back then.
Now they're empty.
I keep walking until I reach the third stall on the left. Blaze stands with one hip cocked, grayer now around the muzzle, but his eyes are still bright and knowing. When he turns his head toward me, recognition flickers instantly. He steps closer, breath warm against my shoulder, a low nicker rumbling out like a greeting he's been holding onto.
I swallow hard.
I got Blaze when I was sixteen. We won a lot of ribbons together before I left him behind.
I step into the stall and rest my forehead against his neck, feeling the solid warmth of him. "I'm sorry, boy. I know I've been gone too long."
He huffs softly, like he's considering whether to forgive me.
