“Do you still know how to ride or has Saltwater Springs made you a softie?”
I snort. “I didn’t forget anything.”
“Good.” He grabs Chestnut's reins and opens the stall. “C’mon then, let’s go for that ride.”
The wind tearsthrough my hair as Chestnut gallops across the open hills, the rhythm of his hooves hitting the ground vibrating through my bones. Beside me, Cooper rides his own horse, completely at ease as we pass through the fields behind the ranch.
I forgot how good this feels.
The freedom of it and the adrenaline.
It hits me almost the same way surfing does in that split second right before catching a wave, when your heart kicks harder and the rest of the world fades away. Except out here, there’s no cameras or interviews. No rankings, or expectations clawing at my throat. Out here it’s just open land and salty air.
We ride for what feels like forever before Cooper finally slows his horse near the cliffs overlooking the ocean. Mountains rise behind us while waves crash below, the morning sun turning the water gold.
I pull Chestnut to a stop beside him and whistle low. “Damn. I forgot how pretty this place is.”
Cooper doesn’t answer as he stares at the small private beach below.
“You gonna throw me off the edge?” I ask, mostly joking.
He lifts his gaze and stares out at the ocean. “I probably should, shouldn’t I?”
My grin fades.
Ah. Here it comes, The Harrison Lecture.
I brace myself for the inevitable speech about responsibility and family legacy, but it never comes.
“I think this whole family falling apart is my fault,” Cooper says instead, catching me completely off guard.
I blink. “What?”
He keeps his eyes forward, but his jaw is tight. “Callie wanted guitar lessons when we were kids, so I introduced her to Mason.”
Mason is Cooper's best friend and the local hidden talent.
“She started writing songs with him every weekend,” Cooper continues. “Now she’s halfway across the damn world being a popstar.”
“That’s not your?—”
“And you.” He cuts me off with a humorless laugh. “I’m the one who started taking you surfing with us. Dad used to hate it because it distracted you from ranch work.”
I stare at him.
“He blames me,” Cooper says. “Pretty sure he always will.”
“Coop—”
“He lost both of you.”
The words land like a punch to the chest, and I realize just how much he’s been blaming himself for how everything happened.
I shake my head hard. “You didn’t make me leave, Cade.”
He doesn’t answer.
“ And you didn’t force Callie to chase music either,” I continue. “We made our own choices.”
