Boone waited patiently as always, head low, steam rising from his coat. I loosened the girth one notch, then another, slow and methodical. Leather creaked. Metal buckles clicked. My fingers knew the work even if my head didn’t. I pulled the saddle free and settled it on the rail, then ran my hands down Boone’s neck, his shoulder, checking for heat, for strain, for anything I’d missed in the rush.
Jake worked beside me, quiet as ever. He was taking care of Buddy, and the only sounds were the soft thud of hooves shifting in the dirt and the scrape of leather.
I brushed Boone down, longer than necessary, grounding myself in the rhythm. Stroke after stroke. He flicked an ear back toward me, steady, solid, same as he always was.I led him into the stall, made sure he had water, that hay was set right, and everything was in its place.
Jake finished at the same time I did. He shut the stall door, checked the latch, then looked over at me.
“How long have you all been keeping secrets from me, Jake?”
Jake frowned. “Huh”
“How long have you known Abel’s been here, harassing Miguel? And why would you ever tell the kid it was his job to defuse what my dad does?” I tried to keep my voice level.
“Because you never did anything about it,” he said and huffed a breath. “Abel does it in front of you, same as always, and you don’t see it.”
“Of course I see it! I deal with things when they happen.”
“Not in the proper way,” Jake said, blunt as usual.
“Fuck! I try,” I said.
Jake nodded. “I know, but when it’s just him and Miguel—or him and anyone he thinks won’t push back—it gets personal.Realpersonal. And it happens more than you care to see.”
The truth hit me; I hadn’t seen it because I hadn’t wanted to. I’d been there when Dad ran his mouth, when he crossed lines just enough to make everyone uncomfortable. I’d told myself it was noise. Bluster. The same old shit that we were all used to.
But I knew how my dad worked. I knew he saved the worst for when no one was watching. He’d done it to me my entire life, and I knew he pressed until he found the weak spot and leaned onto it. Somehow, I’d convinced myself that because I didn’t see it, it wasn’t happening.
That was on me.
This was my crew. My responsibility. And I’d let things with Dad slide until they were out of control.
I owed it to them all to fix this. I just didn’t know how.
I needed to make things right with Miguel.
And I owed Lucas an apology.
Chapter 19
Lucas
Jesse came into the kitchen as I swallowed the pills dry, the chalky taste sticking in my throat. He didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there, one hand braced on the counter as if the room might tilt without it.
“What are the pills for?” he asked me.
I capped the bottle and shoved it into my pocket.
“Old injury,” I said.
He met my eyes, steady. “Dining hall,” he said eventually. “Meeting.”
“No.”
“I wasn’t asking, City.”
He waited as I grabbed my coat, and I fell in beside him as we walked.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, but he shook his head. Oh, man of few words.
