Page 54 of Total Jane Wreck

I stand. “Thank you, but, no. I should get going.”

“Already?” Marigold asks.

“Yeah. Sorry.” I pick up my purse and put its strap over my shoulder. “I’m so happy to have joined this book club. Please forgive me; I’m just having an off night. Next time will be different, I promise.”

“No need for apologies, Jane.” There’s sympathy in Emma’s voice and in her eyes. “But are you okay to drive?”

“Yes,” I answer. “I’ll be fine. Thanks again, and good night.”

I make my exit, out of the bookshop and to my car, which is parked along the street. All the way back to Resilience Ranch, I grip the steering wheel with sweaty palms. I’m not sure what I’m afraid to discover—only that it won’t be good.

Somehow, the drive takes forever and yet goes by in a flash. When I arrive, gravel crunching under my tires, I pull up to the gate and punch in the entrance code. Once through, I drive at ten miles per hour to my usual parking spot, in between my trailer and the horse barn, right next to that old tree stump. Chet’s already outside, gazing up at the starry sky. He ambles over to me.

“You’re back early!” Chet says the moment I get out of my car. He’s in running shorts and an ancient hoodie, like a college athlete hanging out in his dorm room. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” I force a smile, shutting my car door with my hip. “Just awkward new-girl nerves, I guess. Book club is . . . a lot.”

I’m waiting for Chet to tease me, or to lean in for a kiss. He does neither. “Well, I’m glad you’re back. The horses and I both missed you.” He extends his hand. “Walk with me.”

I take his hand. We move toward the horse barn, and Chet fixes his gaze forward. A strange mood seems to radiate off him.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothing’s wrong. Not really.”

I expect more conversation, or at least a joke, but Chet’s silent. The moon is out—big, full, smudged at the edges. I’m holding my breath, waiting for bad news.

Then, beyond the rolling fields, I see a flicker—a movement at the fence line near the blue barn. I pause, blink. Did I imagine it? Someone’s there, then gone. Two someones, maybe.

“Did you see—” I start, but Chet talks over me, voice a little too loud.

“Let’s get a carrot from the feed room,” he says, already angling us toward the back. “Betty goes nuts for them.”

I shove the door open. The instant it swings shut behind us, Chet turns to me and presses his hands to my shoulders—gentle but insistent. “Listen,” he says, “if I ever ask you to trust me—”

His words vanish under the thunder of horses clamoring at their stall doors. The barn smells like an earthy mix of hay, sawdust, and horse breath. A sudden chill skitters down my spine.

“See,” Chet says, “the horses really did miss you. They’re excited you’re back.”

I clamp my lips together, willing my heart to slow.

“What is it?” he asks. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Are you okay?” My question sounds accusatory, belligerent even. But Chet’s face doesn’t register surprise. “What were you about to tell me—something about trusting you?”

Easing his hands away from me, Chet runs his fingers through his hair. “It’s not a big deal. I’m just wondering if you’d ever trust me with the horses.” He stares at the ground and gives a stray bucket a lazy kick.

Okay. That’s really not what I was expecting him to say. “What are you talking about? The horses belong to you.”

“Except, by my own definition, they don’t. When I called Reed, I said Betty belonged to you because emotionally, she does. Emotionally, these horses all belong to you, Jane. And that’s how it should be. But I want them to belong to me as well. I want you to teach me how to connect with them.” Chet meets my gaze, his dark eyes raw with something I can’t name. “And I want to start right now.”

“Okay.” I lead him to Betty’s stall. “First thing—let her come to you. Don’t reach.”

He nods, stuffing both hands in his hoodie pocket. Betty swings her big head over the stall door and blows a warm gust at his chest.

“She’s deciding,” I say.

“Deciding what?”