“Oh, you are,” Atlee says easily. “You moved into the barn. That’s practically headline material.”
I step in before this spirals. “She’s exaggerating. Don’t worry, she does that often.”
“Do I, though?” Atlee arches a brow before turning back to Brinley. “He’s been weirdly evasive every time I ask about you.”
“Because it’s none of your business,” I cut in.
“That’s never stopped me before.”
Brinley’s watching us as though she’s discovering a side of me she didn’t know existed. And I guess maybe she is.
Atlee’s always had a way of dragging me out of my own head, whether I want her to or not.
“So,” Atlee says, rocking back on her heels, “you’re staying here?”
“For now,” Brinley answers. “Just until I figure out what’s next.”
“That tracks,” Atlee says.
“With what?” I ask.
“With you,” she replies simply. “You wouldn’t bring people here unless they matter to you.”
Brinley’s gaze flicks to me at that. I pretend to be very focused on the hay in my hands.
Atlee glances toward the house, then back at Brinley. “I’m in the dorms this semester. My parents are still offended about it.”
“They’re still mad?” I ask.
“They think it’s ridiculous we’re both paying to live elsewhere when there are perfectly good bedrooms in that house.” She air quotes. “But I like my freedom. And I don’t like my brother hovering.”
“I don’t hover.”
She and Brinley exchange a look.
“You absolutely do,” Atlee says.
Brinley’s smiling now, and I can feel myself losing this battle.
They fall into easy conversation while I finish tossing hay. Atlee gestures around the property like she’s a tour guide, pointing out the pond and the fence line. She mentions how the barn doors stick when it rains.
When they wander back toward me, Atlee’s expression has changed, but the teasing edge is still there. I straighten slowly, bracing myself.
She looks back and forth between us. “You gonna warn her, or should I?”
Brinley blinks. “Warn me about what?”
“He wants you to think he’s laid-back,” Atlee says, jerking her chin toward me. “He’s not, though. Not even close.”
“I’m standing right here,” I mutter.
“He’ll act like he’s not hovering,” she continues, completely ignoring me. “But if someone so much as breathes wrong in your direction, he’ll mysteriously appear.”
“Atlee.”
“He’ll say he’s giving you space,” she says. “Meanwhile, he’s already noticed who’s standing too close and watching to make sure no one’s being an idiot.”
“That’s not—”
