Izzy tapped the pen against the page once.
“Okay. That’s a good group.”
“Food?” Burke asked.
Izzy glanced at Grant.
He didn’t hesitate. “She’s handling it.”
Izzy blinked. “Am I?”
“You are now.”
Burke chuckled. “Sounds like you volunteered.”
Izzy shook her head, smiling despite herself. “Alright. Fine. But I’m keeping it simple.”
“You say that now,” Grant said.
She pointed the pen at him. “Don’t.”
They fell into it easily after that.
Details.
Timing.
Where to set everything up—inside if the weather turned, outside if it held.
Burke moved through it like he did everything—steady, thoughtful, already thinking two steps ahead.
Grant stayed quieter, but when he spoke, it mattered.
Izzy kept the list moving.
At one point, Burke caught Grant’s eye again. He didn’t say anything, but the look was clear: You’re in trouble, little brother.
Grant just gave him a look that promised a knockout if he opened his mouth.
Burke shook his head, a ghost of a grin on his face, and didn’t push.
Izzy closed the notebook with a soft tap. “Alright. We’ve got a plan.”
Burke nodded. “Caitlin’s not going to see this coming.”
Izzy smiled. “That’s the idea.”
The morning settled around them—coffee, sunlight, and the quiet hum of something being built just under the surface.
And for the first time since she’d gotten there, it didn’t feel like she was standing on the outside anymore.
* * *
By afternoon, the barn had settled into a different rhythm. The heavy morning chores were done, replaced by the steady, repetitive sounds of lessons and light training.
Izzy wandered toward the outdoor arena, drawn by the steady pound of hooves and Naomi’s unmistakable, sharp-edged voice. She needed a break from the family feeling in the house—it was already a little too easy to get used to.
A teenage rider was guiding a gray gelding around a small course. The girl was talented but tense, her knuckles white on the reins.
