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“Can I get a ride?” Instead of answering, Jake glances at Caleb. So do Colt and Luke.
I don’t.
Jake lives in an upscale gated community located only a couple of blocks from the high school. There’s no such thing as “out of the way” in a town as small as Landry, but there’s no denying the fact Jake lives closest to me.
“Sure,” Jake replies, although the words don’t sound all that welcoming. Maybe he’s worried someone from school will see us together.
Relieved about managing a ride home with someone other than Caleb, I turn to the other three boys with a bright smile. “See you guys Monday. That movie was great…exciting.”
Exciting can apply to any action movie, right?
I’m avoiding looking at Caleb, but both Colt and Luke nod their heads before I head toward the exit doors.
A few seconds later, I hear Jake behind me. I hold the door for him as we emerge outside into the damp air.
Jake Barnes is known for being a jokester. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him without an easygoing grin stretched across his face.
But he’s silent and serious as we walk down the sidewalk. Aside from turning on the radio and instructing me to play whatever I want, Jake doesn’t say a word as we make the short trip back to Matthews Farm from downtown Landry. There are a couple of times when he opens his mouth, as though he’s about to speak, but he always closes it before any words actually escape.
“I’ll, uh, walk from here,” I say when he pulls into my driveway. I can’t handle any more of the awkward silence.
“You sure?” Jake asks.
“Yes,” I confirm, opening the door to climb out. “Thanks for the ride.”
I jump out and start walking up the dirt driveway, trying to put as much distance between myself and this weird afternoon as I can.
CHAPTERTWELVE
LENNON
It feels like I’ve only just climbed into bed when my phone vibrates from its spot on the three-legged stool I keep to the right of my pillow for the sole purpose of making sure I hear my alarm in the morning.
I fumble my fingers across the slab of oak for my phone, unwilling to open my eyes just yet. Once I convince my eyelids to open, I have to blink at the phone screen about a dozen times to make sure I’m not misreading the text I just received.
Caleb:Baseball field. 1 p.m.
It’s 5:15 in the morning. My alarm hasn’t even gone off yet. And Caleb is texting me? About playing baseball? What is he even doing up at this hour?
There’s no way I’m falling back asleep now. With a long sigh, I abandon the warm covers to get dressed. I only had fifteen minutes of sleep left, anyway.
I’ve just pulled on my usual fleece when my phone buzzes. It’s from Caleb again. A series of obnoxious question marks.
Lennon:Fine.
I send just the single word, biting back some of the snarkier ones I wouldn’t mind adding. The main reason I hold back is because he’s doing me a favor. Caleb’s my best hope that I won’t have to spend gym class on Monday listening to overdone sighs behind me as I repeatedly miss hitting the ball.
There’s a whisper of warmth in the air when I step out onto the front porch; the first I’ve felt in months. The barest hint of color is edging across the brightening horizon, silhouetting the barn and the broad oaks that surround it in a pastel hue.
Landry doesn’t look so bad right now. This image? Spread before me like one of the oil paintings that line the hallways of Caleb’s family’s estate? It kindles a warmth that sits in the center of my chest.
Thanks to Caleb’s text, I’m running ahead of schedule, and I don’t have the constraint of school since it’s a Sunday. I head into the stallion barn first to tack up Geiger.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m appreciating the sunrise as a streak of color from my perch atop his broad back. The world flashes by in a series of slowly brightening hues as we circle the practice track again and again. My thighs are burning by the time Geiger is willing to slow his pace. I slide out of the saddle, letting out a quietoomphwhen I hit the ground harder than I expected to.
Gramps has already started distributing the mares’ grain by the time I’ve untacked Geiger and fed both him and Gallie.
“Morning, Gramps,” I greet as I enter the tack room.
