“I’m up,” I call back, willing every fiber of my being to sound casual.
No way.There is absolutely no way I can face him right now. Not after what he—whattheydid to me in that dream.
There’s a long pause. I can hear the wood creak beneath his boots as he shifts on his feet outside my door.
“You okay? Sounded like you were crying.”
I sit up, pulling my pillow over my face and screaming into it before throwing it onto the floor. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
“I’m fine,” I manage, but my voice cracks. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
If there’s a God, now would be a really good time to smite me.
Heat blooms under my skin, spreading from my chest to the tips of my ears.
I had a dream. A filthy, pulse-pounding dream about athreesomewith both of them. Withbrothers—and now one of them is asking if I’m okay.
Heheardme.
Silence stretches for a second before his footsteps finally fade down the hall. I collapse back into the blankets, completely mortified.
When I finally drag myself out of bed, I twist my hair into a messy top knot, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My skin is sun-kissed from weeks of being outside, a new constellation of freckles across my nose.
I should be thinking about the horses and training Iris and the workday ahead. Instead, my brain keeps replaying hands—their hands—caressing my skin.
Mornings here are freezing, so I pull on a hoodie and the camel Carhartt coat Emmett’s been letting me borrow. It swallows mewhole, still carrying his warm, woodsy scent, and for one dizzy second, I see him again—grinning up at me, the way he had in my dream before he kissed me.
Today is going to be a very long day.
Breakfast is the usual spread—eggs, toast, sausage, fresh fruit, and a leaning stack of pancakes in the center of the old kitchen table. The sticky-sweet scent of maple syrup fills the air, mixing with the warmth of a fresh pot of roasted coffee.
Across from me, silverware clatters as Heath and the boys waste no time digging in, like it’s an ordinary day. Like I didn’t open my eyes less than an hour ago with my pulse in my throat and the ghosts oftwosets of hands on my body.
I keep my eyes pinned to my plate. My fork scrapes softly as I nudge a single berry in pointless circles, pretending I’m not hyperaware of the heat pressed against my skin from either side of the table. If I look at either of them,they’ll know. I don’t know how—telepathy, brotherly intuition, a cosmic joke?—but somehow, they will.
“Is that okay, Sadie?” Heath’s voice slips through the fog in my brain.
“Hm?” My eyes flick up, looking straight into Wesley’s. Then, as if that isn’t bad enough, Emmett’s. Both of them are staring at me like I’ve just confessed every detail of my dream out loud.
My cheeks flare with heat.
“Having your friends visit next weekend?” Heath repeats.
“Oh! Right—um, yes.” I clear my throat, trying to drag my thoughts back to normal human conversation. “Thank you again for letting them stay.”
“Not a problem.” Heath smiles, warm and easy. “Seems like a good time for you to have a little fun.”
Fun.
I drag my gaze back to my plate. I’ve been hoping today will be the day he lets me take on more responsibility.
I’ve been busting my ass for weeks—emptying trash cans, feeding animals, scrubbing buckets, shoveling literal tons of horse shit, hauling hay—and doing it all without complaint. Well, withoutoutwardcomplaint.
I’ve shown I can handle more—real responsibility. Maybe he’s planning to tell me after breakfast. He usually meets me out at the barn to give me a rundown for the day and tell me which horses are being pulled for trail rides.
I’m not giving up hope yet.
Even if my brain is still at war with itself, replaying pieces of the dream like a movie trailer I absolutely should not want to see.
