Page 26 of The One Who Never Left: Colter

Colter gave him a flat look. “Leadership.”

Boone barked a laugh. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Colter didn’t even crack a smile because he didn’t feel much like a leader at that moment. Leaders were supposed to be sure, decisive, the kind of men who saw the whole picture and knew when to push. All he felt was the tight pull in his gut, the warning he’d learned the hard way not to ignore.

The horses in front of him were some of the best he’d ever seen—strong, sound, worth real money—but quality didn’t mean ready when everything about this felt rushed. It was like someone else had set the pace and expected him to keep up. He’d led plenty of times before but right now it felt more like he was being dragged.

While his brothers bickered, Colter’s brain kept spinning on its own track—vaccination schedules, transport logistics, feed storage, breeding rotations, foaling risks, staffing shortages, night checks. Not to mention the few hundred grand they’d drop on a chance that they produce a champion line. Every horse they passed was another thread tightening across his chest.

Somewhere, in a version of his life he apparently didn't have anymore, he'd been the brother with room in his head for one problem at a time. That guy sounded delightful. Colter missed him.

The breeder nudged him. “What do you think, Doc?”

Colter ran a hand along the bay’s warm shoulder, its muscles rippling beneath his palm. “He’s exceptional. All of them are. You’ve done good work.”

Boone nudged Eli with a smug grin. “See? Colter said it. Exceptional.”

“He also said her fetlock’s messed up,” Eli pointed out. “Let’s not crown him the positivity king just yet.”

“You two do realize this whole operation lands on us, right? The breeding program, the training, the vet care, foaling season⁠—”

Boone threw an arm around him. “Relax, brother. We’ve got this.”

“You say that now,” Colter muttered. “But at three a.m. when we’ve got a breech foal, suddenly everyone remembers I’m the one who went to vet school.”

Eli lifted a finger. “Incorrect. Boone remembers. I panic.”

Boone scratched his beard. “Accurate.”

"So the plan is that I do the work, Boone remembers I exist, and Eli has a nervous breakdown somewhere off to the side."

"That's the plan," Boone confirmed. "It's a good plan. We've been running it for years."

Despite himself, a raw but real laugh escaped. The worry didn’t vanish, but it eased, settling deeper instead of pressing at his throat, where it had made every breath feel like a negotiation.

Maybe that was the thing about being a Callahan. You carried the weight but at least you didn’t have to carry it alone.

CHAPTER 11

Sutton gripped the steering wheel, knuckles tight, like letting go wasn’t an option.

Her stomach was doing some serious acrobatics, because today Lynlee was meeting her family—one she knew nothing about. Sutton had a very strong feeling that this was the exact moment everything could go spectacularly wrong. Or spectacularly right.

She wasn’t sure which scared her more.

The only thing tipping slightly in her favor was that half the town seemed to be here too—so at least the spotlight on her little family wasn’t quite as blinding.

Sutton pulled the keys out of the ignition and then swung around in her seat to face Lynlee, giving her full attention. “Hey, pumpkin, we can leave any time you want. Just say the magic words—‘I’m tired’—and we’ll pack up and head home, no questions asked.”

Lynlee tilted her head, curls bouncing, suspicion and curiosity warring on her face like she was waiting for the catch. “I don’t want to go home. We just got here and I need to hand out my birthday party invitations.”

Lynlee held up a giant stack of construction paper cards that she’d painstakingly made last night. They were orange and had horse stickers all over them. Sutton helped write the details on the inside, but Lynlee printed her name on each one like she was Taylor Swift signing an autograph.

“Just remember, bedtime is only a few hours away, so when the sun starts to go down it’s party over.”

Lynlee paused, her little brows knitting together, clearly trying to make sense of the offer. The concept didn’t quite compute—leaving early, no fuss, no bargaining required.

“Why do you want to leave, Mommy?”