“Did you get rid of my old coat?” Alix asked.
“I donated it to the women’s shelter in Fort Collins,” Helen said without glancing her way. Translation:What does someone who avoids being home in Colorado for ten years need a coat for?
Alix smothered her reply — if she complained that her mother hadn’t kept a coat for a person who never came home, she’d be risking a lecture.
“Do you need to borrow one?” her mom asked. She was putting on her own coat but paused as if she might just offer it to Alix right off her back.
Alix shook her head. “Nah, this one’s fine,” she said, stuffing her hands into her denim jacket.
“Are you sure, Alexandra?” Helen eyed her. “It’s been a cold winter so far.”
“Yeah,” Alix said. “This is totally fine. We’ll only be outside for a minute.”
Outside, the cold hit like a slap: clean and sharp, full of cedar and snow. The sky stretched pale blue over the Wolf property, the paddock gleaming white. Every inch of it looked exactly the same and somehow entirely different. The fence posts her father had replaced himself. The big maple tree where she’d fallen and broken her arm when she was nine still standing sentry near the drive. Even the faint trail that led to the pond shimmered with snow, a memory of the path she used to take when she wanted to disappear from arguments. The air carried the same scent she remembered from childhood — horse, hay, and pine — but it felt foreign now, like revisiting a language she once spoke fluently and only half recalled. It stirred memories she’d buried under years of city noise: the thrill of early rides at dawn, the crunch of gravel under boots, the hollow quiet after shouting matches with her mom.
Having Grace there changed everything. The place that used to shrink her now seemed to stretch, to breathe again, as if someone had opened the windows of an old house. She could almost feel her teenage self rolling her eyes somewhere in the ether, watching her fall for someone who didn’t belong here and yet somehow fit. Grace’s quiet awe smoothed the edges of every memory, made the awkward versions of her past selves seem a little less sharp, a little easier to stand beside.
Four horses stood by the fence: old gentle Lavender, Helen’s favorite mare; restless Athena; lazy Major; and Rook, the youngest and prettiest, his breath clouding in the air as he snorted at the sight of them.
Grace stopped short, eyes wide. “They’re so beautiful.”
Alix kicked at the snow, teen angst overtaking her body before she could stop herself. “It’s cold.”
Helen handed Grace half an apple.
Grace hesitated until Alix demonstrated feeding Athena — flat palm, slow step, calm voice. Alix pointed her toward Major. The horse’s lips brushed her hand and she squealed, half-delighted, half-startled. Helen handed her another apple and pointed toward Lavender. Grace held out the apple in one hand, and Alix rubbed her hand down Lavender’s nose.
“She likes you,” Helen said warmly. “She bites most people.”
Alix deadpanned, “She bites me like ninety percent of the time.”
Grace grinned. “Maybe she has taste.”
Alix laughed before she could stop herself. Grace sniffled in the cold as her breath puffed white in the air. She was pink-cheeked and glowing, and Alix smiled into the collar of her jacket.
The wind picked up, slicing through denim. She shoved her hands in her pockets and pretended not to shiver.
Grace noticed anyway. “You’re freezing.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.” Grace unzipped her jacket and stepped closer, her voice gentle but firm. “Here.”
“I’m not taking your coat.”
“You’re shivering.”
“I’d rather take Rook’s blanket, seriously. Grace?—”
“Alix.”
The way Grace said her name — steady, certain — left no room for argument. Grace slipped the jacket around her shoulders, fingers brushing the back of Alix’s neck.
Warmth flooded through her instantly, equal parts physical and something else entirely. It startled her how easily herbody leaned toward that heat, as if it had been waiting years for permission. Beneath the borrowed jacket, her pulse kicked, betraying the steadiness she tried to project. She told herself it was just the contrast — the cold air, the warmth — but it wasn’t. It was the way Grace didn’t hesitate, didn’t ask if it was okay, just saw her and fixed the problem like she’d been doing it forever. Alix’s breath caught, and she swallowed it down, pretending her eyes were just watering from the wind.
Helen called from the fence, “For shame.”
Grace laughed.
