Page 111 of Wild Sanctuary

The water line on the north pasture has been leaking for three days, according to Colt, which roughly translates to it’s-been-leaking-for-five-and-he’s-only-just-noticed.

Normally, I’d give him hell for that.

Today, I crouch in the mud and dig around the coupling with my hands while my brother leans against the fence post, watching me work like he’s supervising.

“You gonna help or commentate?”

“Figured I’d let you have this one.” He pulls a blade of grass and chews the end of it. “You seem like you could use somethin’ to hit.”

He’s not wrong.

My hands are buried in cold mud but my head is still in the cab of my truck, with her voice in my ear and the softness of her skin under my thumb. I yank the cracked coupling free and toss it into the grass.

“Hand me the replacement.”

Colt digs through the toolbox and passes it over without comment. “West headed to Billings this morning. That mare he’s been after came available.”

I grunt in acknowledgment and thread the new coupling onto the line.

He lasts about thirty seconds, which I reckon might be a personal record.

“So.” He settles back against the post. “Town was productive, huh?”

“Daisy said that. Not me.”

“Yeah, I caught the direct quote. Also caught the part where you two looked like you’d been set on fire and somebody forgot to call the department.”

I thread the new coupling onto the line and tighten it with the wrench, giving it more force than it needs. “We were talking about the break-in.”

“Sure you were.” He’s quiet for a beat, which is never a good sign. Colt’s silence is louder than most people’s shouting. “Can I say one thing?”

“You’re going to regardless.”

“I don’t know what happened before she left. That’s your business. But I know what I’ve seen since she got back.”

His voice has dropped the lazy drawl, and when I glance up, the grin is gone.

“She watches you when you’re not looking. And you smile when she’s in the room. Actual smiles, Wyatt. Damn, I forgot your face knew how to do that.”

He chews the grass stem as he looks out over the land.

“You’ve spent your whole life showin’ up for everyone else.”

When he looks at me, his eyes are as serious as I’ve ever seen.

“When do you get to be the one who wants somethin’?”

My hands still on the wrench. The mud is cold against my knees, and somewhere beyond the tree line, a hawk calls and goes quiet.

“You done?” My voice comes out flatter than I intend.

“I’m done.”

I finish tightening the coupling and test the line. Water flows clean. No leak. I wipe my hands on my jeans and stand, and Colt is watching me with something that looks a lot like the expression Dad used to wear when he knew something the rest of us hadn’t figured out yet.

“Careful,” I mutter. “You’re startin’ to sound like him.”

Colt doesn’t smile. “Maybe that’s the problem.” And for a moment, he looks like he’s going to say more, but when he stays silent, I push myself off the ground and wipe my hands on my jeans.