She squeezed my hand. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”
I got out before I could change my mind and walked toward the barn. The door was open, and I could hear voices inside. Male voices, easy laughter.
I stopped at the entrance, suddenly unsure. Should I knock? Just walk in? Call out?
Before I could decide, Trace appeared in the doorway.
“Leigh! Perfect timing.” He grinned, that paternal warmth from yesterday still there. “Come on.”
He led me away from the house and I followed in confusion. Inside, the barn was neat and organized. Tools hung on walls, workbenches lined one side, and in the center…
Four quads.
They sat in a line, clearly well-used and well-loved. Each one slightly different, personalized. Booker, Xander, and Gage stood near them, and they all turned when we entered.
“Hey,” Xander said, that perceptive gaze taking me in. “Glad you could make it.”
“Thanks for inviting me.” I looked at the quads, confused. “Are we going riding or something?”
Gage grinned. “Something like that.”
Booker moved toward the back of the barn, where a tarp covered something large. “We wanted to show you this.”
He grabbed the tarp and pulled.
Underneath was another quad. Brand new, shiny, completely different from the worn ones they rode. It was beautiful with red and black, sleek lines, clearly top of the line.
I stared at it. “That’s... nice?”
“It’s yours,” Trace said simply.
My brain stuttered. “What?”
“It’s yours,” he repeated, his voice gentle. “We all chipped in. Welcome to the family.”
I looked between them and the quad, not understanding. “I don’t... why would you buy me a quad?”
Xander stepped forward. “Because we’ve been riding together since we were kids. All four of us and Dex. It’s kind of our thing. Every summer we’d tear around the ranch, getting up to no good.”
“When we need to clear our heads,” Gage added, “or talk without anyone overhearing, or just be brothers... we ride.”
“And you’re our sister,” Booker finished. “So you need a quad.”
The words hit me square in the chest. I looked at the gleaming machine, then at these four men. They were strangers two days ago, brothers now, and something in me cracked open.
“You bought me a quad,” I said, my voice embarrassingly thick.
“Can’t be a Farrington without one,” Xander said lightly. “It’s like, a rule.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll come riding with us,” Trace said. “That’s all we want.”
I touched the handlebars, running my hand over the smooth metal. It was real. Solid. Permanent. Not a tentative gesture or a polite inclusion. This was them saying: You’re one of us now.
“I’ve never ridden a quad before,” I admitted.
“Then we’ll teach you,” Booker said. “Come on.”
