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Cassie nods. “That makes sense. But I still think you should give Will a chance. You can just go on one date with him. Maybe he’s not asniceas he seems.”
“I’ll think about it,” I reply as we reach the end of the sidewalk. More to get Cassie off my back than actually meaning the words. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“I can drive you home. It’s almost dark out.”
“I’ll be fine,” I respond. “It’s not far.”
“Okay,” she agrees. I’m sure she’s noticed I’ve never invited her, but she’s never said anything about it. “See you tomorrow!”
Cassie continues into the parking lot and I keep walking. The sun is continuing its rapid descent, showcasing a brilliant spray of color across the darkening sky.
Only a whisper of orange remains by the time I finish my hike across the east pasture.
Gramps is on the phone when I enter the farmhouse. I wave at him before dropping my backpack in the kitchen and heading upstairs to change into my barn clothes and boots. The ancient hinges let out a familiar groan of greeting as I push the door open, revealing the light-yellow walls and white lace curtains of my childhood bedroom. The decor is better suited for a ten-year-old girl than a seventeen-year-old one, but I haven’t had the heart to change any of it.
Redecorating my room so it was suited for a “big girl” was part of my mother’s final attempt to break free of her many vices, before an aneurysm ensured she’d never have the chance to conquer them permanently.
Gramps is still on the phone when I emerge downstairs, so I head straight out to the barn. It’s completely dark out now, much later in the day than I usually start my chores.
Rather than bring the horses in right away I flick on all the lights and start preparing the evening grain and hay allotments, delivering them to each horse’s stall. I mucked out this morning before school, so the stalls are all clean.
The horses are eager to get inside and eat. Dusty was ridden this morning, but Geiger won’t be getting his scheduled exercise tonight. The practice track doesn’t have any lights, and galloping an ornery stallion in the dark is a surefire way for something to go terribly wrong.
It takes me an hour to finish the evening chores. Gramps has already made dinner when I enter the kitchen. It’s tacos, which are a bit adventurous for him. I’m too hungry to care he oversalted the meat and some of the tortillas are still cold.
Dinner is spent discussing one of Gramps’s old trainer buddies, who was on the phone earlier. He was calling from Florida, where he’s training two-year-olds for the upcoming racing season. I nod along as Gramps narrates their conversation about breaking from the gate, but I’m not really listening.
I’m surprised and relieved he remembers as many training techniques as he apparently does. It eases some of the worry that appears every time he can’t find his keys or leaves the oven on.
After we finish dinner, I help Gramps clean up the kitchen and then say good night. I shower off the barn grime and put on my favorite pair of striped flannel pajamas before settling in the rickety wooden chair to complete my assignments for tomorrow.
The English outline only takes me ten minutes, but the study guide for my Oceanography class takes a lot longer to complete. I quit when the words start swimming across the page in a black-and-white river.
I should have time to go over it again in the morning. Even if—and that’s a big if—Caleb actually shows.
I pack up my bag for tomorrow, get ready for bed, and then slide between the soft sheets, letting out a deep sigh. I love this moment. Nothing that needs my attention. There’s no looming task or assignment. Just silence and my warm, cozy bed. I try to savor it, relish the tranquility.
But I drift toward unconsciousness as soon as my head hits the pillow.
CHAPTERFOUR
LENNON
There’s already a figure sitting on the bleachers when I hop over the gate onto the far edge of the baseball field.
My stomach sinks as I walk across the brown grass. I was confident—certain—he wouldn’t show.
“You’re early.” I state the obvious as I take a seat one row below Caleb on the hard metal. I’m not sure what else to say to him.
The metal bleachers are the same temperature as the early morning air. I shiver as I sit, glad I bundled up in extra layers. The first streaks of sunrise are only just beginning to creep across the horizon; nowhere near powerful enough to warm the metal.
“So are you,” Caleb observes. His words are casual, just like his stance. He’s slouched between two of the risers, and the brim of his baseball cap is pulled low, masking most of his face. “Hoping to wrap this up early so you can leave for your Arctic expedition?”
I roll my eyes, and he gives me one of his rare, genuine grins.
Maybe it’s the time. I’m not used to interacting with other people this early, and I haven’t had time to raise the protective shield that’s fully in place by the time I arrive at school. I’m uncharacteristically honest with him. “I was going to leave at 5:31,” I admit.
Caleb chuckles. “Why do you think I showed up early, Matthews?”
