The guest ride I was supposed to lead bailed to stay at their cabin and hit the bonfire instead. Probably a sign from the universe that I should take Falcon out for a solo ride and clear my head—or at least try to.
I’m tacking him up when I spot Sadie dragging a bag of animal feed across the ground.
Aside from our awkward run-in outside the lodge earlier this afternoon, we haven’t really talked. We haven’t really talked, period. Every text I’ve sent her has been left on read, unanswered.
I’ve seen her a few times in passing. Either she didn’t notice me or she’s been making a point not to. Judging by the tight set of her jaw, I’m betting it’s on purpose.
Still, it’s a little satisfying to know that I rattle her. That I get under her skin. That she’s thinking about me.
I shouldn’t want that. I’m supposed to be moving on and letting this go.
She groans, letting go of the bag and planting her hands on her hips.
I should keep walking, but my feet are rooted to the ground and I can’t look away, especially when she tips her head back and exhales deeply. Her eyes are closed, face tilted to the sun.
Even pissed off, she’s stunning.
I hate that she’s mad at me.
I hate that I didn’t ask her to dance.
I hate that no matter how many times I tell myself otherwise, I’m still not—
“Are you going to help me or just keep staring?”
“I wasn’t staring.”
She arches a brow. “Wesley. Come on. You’re a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them.”
“Alright,” I concede. “I wasn’t staringintentionally.”
“Mhm.” Her tone is dry. “Think you can pause thenot staringlong enough to help me with this?“ She nudges the bag with her foot.
I give Falcon a quick pat and cross over, handing her the lead and hefting the bag onto my shoulder.
“Jesus,” she mutters behind me. “How do you make that look so easy?”
“Years of practice. I had to carry feed bags, hay bales, calves—you name it—for years before my dad let me have even an inkling of responsibility.”
“Years?”
“Mhm.”
“Why’d it take so long?”
“That’s a question for my dad.” I keep walking, brushing it off.
But I know the answer.
I fucked up the summer before I turned eighteen. Dad made me earn every ounce of trust back—starting over from squareone, shoveling shit and everything else until I proved I was ready for more.
“Well.” She peels off her gloves and tosses them into a green bucket. “Thanks for the help. I’m gonna head out.”
Just then, Iris trots around the corner, her tiny puppy paws scrambling to keep up with her oversized ears. She skids to a stop at Sadie’s feet and lets out a sharp yap, tail wagging like she’s just found her favorite person in the world.
Sadie’s whole face softens as she bends down to scoop her into her arms. She giggles—quiet and unguarded—and it hits me square in the chest.
I don’t want the moment to end.
