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"He looks great," she says. "Good color, good energy. The travel doesn't seem to be bothering him."

"He's better in the trailer than I am in the truck," I laugh.

"That's a low bar," Chace interjects.

Does this man ever keep his mouth shut? I reach into the cab of my truck, grabbing my empty water bottle. I have every intention of chucking it at his head, but before I can, he grabs it from my hand midair and heads across the parking lot towards the store.

We weather Dusty properly, and top off his hay while the three of us lean against the trailer in the shade. Eli talks through the next couple of weeks. Even with clients coming in and the cattle drive he’s running next week, he thinks he can make it to one of my competitions.

Eli, Hazel, and I are chatting about whether they’ll fly or drive down when Chace comes out of the store carrying an armful of snacks, my water bottle dangling from his fingers. After depositing his loot into the cab of the truck, he hands me my water bottle.

It’s full of water, with lots and lots of ice. I eye him skeptically. “What did you do to it?”

“It’s water, Addie. That’s it.”

I pop the lid and sniff it while giving him a chastising grin. I’m beginning to see where Dusty gets his skepticism from.

Chace turns to Eli. “We probably should be hitting the road if we want to make it to camp before nightfall.”

“What camp?” I have absolutely no idea what he is talking about. I thought we were driving straight through to Sheridan. “That’s not on the route I planned. I sent you a copy of my plan.” Indignation burning under my skin.

“Yes, I got it, Addie. Cute font, by the way. Love your color choices. However, the pass on Highway 82 you have us going through has been under construction for two years now. We’ll have to detour through Little Creek. Which will set us back three hours. We’ll camp overnight there. Then get back on the road first thing in the morning.”

He has some nerve. “Who died and made you road trip boss? What if I didn't want to go that way?” I can think of three other routes that make more sense. “What about cutting past Garish Ridge?”

“Nope. They’re having their county fair this week. Lodging will be full, and traffic will be a bitch.”

“Well, what if we—”

“Addie, just let it go. It’s a good route.” Eli cuts in. “I just traveled there a couple months back. You don’t have to control everything. He’s here for this. To help you on the road.”

I cross my arms and scowl at my brother. Two Chace, Addie zero. I am losing more and more control of this trip every day.

Hazel squeezes my arm as she moves towards my truck. Eli will be taking my truck back to Ashford Ridge, while Hazel follows behind. I bet he won’t tap the brakes every ten seconds just to piss her off.

"Text me every day," she says, quiet enough that only I catch it. "Not about standings. Just — text me. I want to make sure you’re doing okay."

Eli twirls my keys around one finger before catching them in his palm. I know we can't afford to run two trucks. Chace's is newer, more reliable, and it makes sense to haul the camper and Dusty with his. None of that stops the knot from forming in my stomach as Eli climbs into the driver's seat of my truck.

“The first thing you do when you become a famous barrel racer,” Eli says, taking in the condition of my truck interior, “is buy a damn new truck.”

I just roll my eyes and shrug. She’s been good to me.

We stand there talking with him and Hazel for another few minutes, promising to call, promising to stay safe, listening to Hazel swear she'll keep an eye on the standings while Eli reminds me again they might be able to sneak away for a show or two if the ranch allows it. I most likely won't see them again for almost two months. I don’t think I have ever gone that long without seeing my brother or my parents.

I swallow the lump in my throat as my truck pulls out of the lot, merging onto the interstate until they disappear.

Beside me, Chace claps his hands together once. "Well." He’s rubbing them together with entirely too much enthusiasm. "Road trip. Eight weeks. One truck. One camper. Think we'll still be speaking to each other by Colorado?"

I don't even look at him. "Depends."

"On?"

"How quickly I can figure out where to hide your body."

He laughs like that's the funniest thing he's heard all day, slinging an arm over my shoulders to steer me toward his truck. My body reacts before my brain can catch up, relaxing into the warmth of him for half a heartbeat before I shove the feeling aside and shrug him off.

"Come on, Sunshine. We've got a rodeo to win."