“Hi, Mrs. Riggsby.” My voice comes out small as I twirl the material of my skirt between my fingers. Suddenly, I’m nervous to be standing here. “Sorry for—um—showing upunannounced. I was”—My gaze flicks over the property—“hoping to talk to Jett.”
She blinks, her eyes glassy. “Oh, honey. You know, it’s Nora.”
Now that the truth is out, she feels like a stranger, no longer the second mom I grew up with. She steps forward, and I know she wants to pull me in for a hug, but I’m not ready. I step back, keeping our distance.
She shakes her head. “For what it’s worth, I really am sorry for how things played out. Yes, your mom knew about the letter, but I made the decision to get rid of it without your knowledge. If you’re going to be mad at anyone, please be mad at me, not your parents.”
The lump in my throat burns. I’m tired of feeling hurt and betrayed. Angry. When words fail me, all I can do is nod. A part of me has to believe they thought they were doing the right thing. I kept secrets to avoid hurting others too. So how am I any different?
Mom and Nora were best friends, and had been for years. Long before school days and dances. Before our dads were in the picture and they became farmers’ wives. All through the years, they were never far from each other. When they both found out they were pregnant, it was kismet. Growing up, she was my second mom. Always spoiling me rotten and being another shoulder to cry on. Deep down, they wouldn’t do anything without love for us in their mind, right?
“He’s in the southwest field.”
I shake my head, eyebrows creasing.
“Jett. He’s working out some things in the southwest field.”
My shoulders fall with the guilt of why he feels the need to work things out and with how long that walk is.
“Harold’s in the stables. Have him saddle up Copper. He’ll get you to Jett.”
I nod, starting to back down the stairs. “Thanks, Nora.”
“Wren?” she calls after me.
I pause to tip my head over my shoulder.
“It’s good to have you home, honey. I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you.”
My steps falter as the words stick to me like honey. The wordhoneylands heavy with familiarity. I nod, offering a tight-lipped smile, as I turn. The lump in my throat keeps words from forming and I don’t even know what the right thing to say would be. I cross the yard to the stables on the side of the house. The Riggsbys are cattle farmers who rely on motorized vehicles to carry them over the farm, but they’ve always had a few horses. After dinner on Sundays, they’d saddle up and ride over their land, appreciating everything they built. Occasionally, I’d ride along with them, either on my own horse if there wasn’t one free, or I’d double up with Jett.
Copper might as well have been part mine with as much as I rode him.
And that’s how I find myself on the back of a horse I haven’t ridden in years, heading straight for the man who broke my heart. The man I swore off but can’t seem to stay away from.
Resting the reins in one hand, I lean forward, running my palm over his coat. Copper’s muscles flutter beneath my touch. He’s a gorgeous sorrel Quarter Horse with a shiny penny-red coat, deeper red mane and tail, and a few white markings on his legs.
“Good boy,” I coo. “Take me to him.”
I kick at his sides, spurring him to move faster. He kicks his legs from a trot to a canter. As hesitant as I am for this conversation, the uneasiness burrowing a hole in my stomach is making me queasy. My pulse races with every sound of Copper’s hooves against the ground.
With how flat the land is, I can make out Jett in the distance… Only, he’s not alone. There are three other figures standing around him, and the weight of seeing everyone nearly knocks me off the saddle. All four of them are leaning against the fence, staring out over the land. Jett’s no longer in the sweatpants he left the house in this morning. From here, I can see how his Wrangler’s hug the globes of his ass. Copper whinnies as he sees Jett, and all their heads turn in our direction. Baker elbows Jett, and he says something I can’t make out from here. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette.
I slow Copper to a walk as we approach the line of ATVs. As hard as I try to avoid looking at Jett, my eyes betray me. Midnight irises stare up at me, clouded with disdain. His eyes hold me captive as he leans forward to light the cigarette, cupping the flame with one hand like he’s done a thousand times. Levi, who was always in my corner, stares at me with an unreadable expression as Heath crosses his arms over his chest with a goofy smirk on his face. But it’s Baker who steps forward. The ball cap he’s wearing shields his eyes.
“Hey, Wren,” he greets, and I nod before he reaches for Copper’s reins. “Hey, buddy.”
I let the reins go lax as he holds him still. “Need a hand?”
“I’ve got it.” Or at least I think I do.
I bunch the fabric of my skirt in my hand as I fling my right leg over the saddle. The breeze catches the material as it flutters against my boots. As graceful as possible, I dismount the large animal, smoothing my skirt as I tuck a flyaway strand of hair behind my ears.
Baker chuckles. “As graceful as ever.”
“Best I could do in a dress,” I mumble. “Wanna give it a try?”
He huffs a laugh. “Nah, I’m good.”
