“Yeah, well, I had a mare show signs of foaling earlier. Figured I’d check on her one more time before callin’ it a night,” he said, tilting his head toward the back stall. “Luke and I split the overnights when they’re this close.”
Something in my chest twisted, and I hated how much it made sense. Of course he’d be the one out here, watching over something that needed him.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, nodding toward my arm, but the look in his concerned eyes made me think he wasn’t just asking about my injury.
I peeled my hand away to look. It wasn’t bad, just a shallow cut, but a tiny river of blood had already streaked down toward my wrist.
“I’m fine,” I lied, even as I winced. “It looks worse than it is.”
Zane gave me a look that saidI don’t believe you, then gently reached for my elbow. “Come on. Let’s get it cleaned up before it gets infected.”
I let him lead me out of the barn, trying to keep my head down, embarrassed by how badly I’d reacted. It wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t done anything wrong. But the minute that door opened, my body had gone back in time, back to a place where doors creaking meant threats, not people who gave a damn.
Inside the house, the kitchen light flipped on with a low buzz. Zane nudged me toward the island while he rummaged in the cabinets for a first aid kit.
“You don’t have to do this,” I murmured, trying to play it off. “It’s just a scratch.”
“You almost decked me back there,” he said, either not hearing me or just blatantly ignoring me.
I forced a laugh, leaning against the counter. “You try getting jump-scared in a barn in the middle of the night and see howyoureact.”
He gave me a look, one that saw right through me, but he didn’t say anything right away. Just opened the first aid kit, pulled out some antiseptic and gauze, then nodded toward a barstool.
“Sit,” he said, and I didn’t argue.
My arm stung and, honestly, sitting felt safer than standing with all the adrenaline still rattling around in my muscles. I dropped onto one of the barstools, resting my forearm on the counter, blood smudged and already drying around the cut.
Zane went to work on my arm like he’d done this a time or hundred—because he probably had. From what I’d witnessed so far in my short stay, ranch life came with its fair share of busted knuckles and barbed wire run-ins. He ripped open an antiseptic swab, his movements quick but careful. Bracing myself, I flinched as the cool sting hit the scrape. He didn’t comment on it. Didn’t say a word, actually—just pressed a clean gauze pad against it and held it there.
I tried to focus on the floor. The soft hum of the refrigerator. Anything that wasn’t the steady feel of his hand on my arm.
“You okay?” he asked me…again…his voice softer this time as he peeled back the gauze, checked the cut, and started wrapping it gently with clean bandage tape. “Really?”
I swallowed hard, keeping my eyes on his hands. “I’ve had worse.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I focused on the bandage he was finishing up with, too aware of how careful his fingers were against my skin. Too aware of the silence stretching out between us.
“I’m fine,” I said again, but it came out less convincing this time.
Zane didn’t respond right away. He smoothed the end of the bandage down and rested his hand briefly against the counter beside mine, like he was debating what to say. Then, quietly, “Was it that bad?”
I blinked. “What?”
He glanced up. “Your breakup. Was it that bad?”
My breath caught before I could stop it and, damn him, I knew he had noticed. He wasn’t even looking at me anymore—he was rinsing off his hands at the sink, giving me space like he knew I’d bolt if he stared too long. When he turned back around, he leaned against the edge of the counter, arms crossed.
And I hated how that made my eyes sting.
I bit the inside of my cheek. “I’m not quite ready to unpack all of that.”
“Not askin’ for a play-by-play, Andi, but women don’t flinch like that over nothing.”
I swallowed, wanting to end this conversation before it went too deep. “Whatever happened...it’s over now,” I offered, my voice tight but steady.
His eyes didn’t waver, but I caught a flicker of something like understanding mixed with frustration. “Over doesn’t mean it didn’t leave a mark,” he said quietly and pushed off from the sink as he stepped closer, the space between us shrinking until I could feel the heat from his body as he stood right in front of me. His gaze softened, filled with that fierce, protective kind of care that made my chest ache, as he reached out, his fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from my face. The touch was light and tender, like he was trying to steady me and prove thathe wasn’t a threat. But something deep inside me snapped, and I flinched—heart hammering, breath catching. On the cusp of what had happened in the barn, it was a reflex I couldn’t control, a sudden wave of panic that made my body recoil.
