Chapter Sixteen
The sun pressed down on Ethan like a heavy hand, making the back of his neck prickle under his collar.
Heat pooled between his shoulder blades as the horses moved behind him, their hooves stirring up thin trails of dust that clung to his boots and the cuffs of his jeans.
Three of the girls recognized him before they even cleared the yard.
Lily, riding a paint mare, eased up beside him first. She’d always been sharp-eyed and sharper-tongued, the kind of girl who could spot a lie before you finished telling it. Her braid swung over one shoulder as she studied him.
“Ethan Evans? Seriously?” Her eyes narrowed like she was comparing him to an old photo. “Didn’t expect to see you out here. You look… different. Like you actually work now.”
Ethan snorted under his breath. “Guess I do.”
Maddie rode up on his other side. She’d been the shy one in youth group, always doodling in the margins of her Bible. Now she had a messy bun and a sunburned nose, and she looked him over with a half-smile.
“Last time I saw you,” she said, “you were wearing a pressed shirt and passing out hymn books. Now you’ve got dirt on your boots. Kinda weird.”
Ethan forced a small grin. “Yeah, well. Life changes.”
Tessa, the third girl, hung back a little. She’d been the social butterfly—cheer squad, choir, every church event. She gave him a once-over like she was trying to figure out if he was still the same guy who used to hold doors open for everyone.
“So,” Lily said, adjusting her reins, “you seeing anyone at college?”
Ethan blinked. “What?”
She shrugged. “You disappeared after graduation. Figured you had some girlfriend keeping you busy at Chico State.”
Maddie chimed in, “Yeah, like some artsy girl who drinks iced coffee and drags you to poetry readings.”
Ethan grinned. “No. No girlfriend.”
“Really?” Lily asked, eyebrows lifting. “Huh. Thought for sure you’d be dating someone by now.”
Ethan kept his eyes on the trail ahead. “Nope. Just studying hard at school. And now… this.”
They nodded, but he could feel their curiosity buzzing around him like flies. Not mean—just nosy. Church-nosy. It made his skin itch.
“Still weird seeing you here,” Maddie said. “Ranch Ethan doesn’t match Church Ethan.”
“Yeah,” Ethan muttered. “I know.”
He nudged Storm forward, hoping they’d drop it. They didn’t.
Their voices dipped lower, but not low enough.
“Did you hear he failed his senior year at Chico?” Lily said like she’d been waiting to say it.
Tessa clicked her tongue. “Yeah. My cousin said he partied every night instead of going to class.”
“Figures,” Lily said. “He always looked so perfect on Sundays. Guess that was fake.”
Ethan kept his eyes on the trail, jaw tightening. Storm’s ears flicked back, picking up the tension in his hands. Ethan loosened his grip before the horse reacted.
The girls kept going.
“I thought he’d end up at some fancy art school,” Maddie said. “Not… here.”
“Maybe he messed up too much,” Tessa replied. “My mom said his parents were furious.”
Heat crawled up the back of Ethan’s neck.
He’d heard versions of this before—whispered in hallways, murmured in pews, tucked behind polite smiles.
But hearing it now, out here, with dust on his boots and sunlight pressing on his shoulders, hit different.
Like they were peeling back a layer he’d tried hard to bury.
“You know I can hear you, right?” Ethan said, voice steady.
All three girls froze. Lily cleared her throat. “We didn’t mean—”
“Yeah, you did,” Ethan said, not looking back. “It’s fine.”
It wasn’t fine. Not even close. But he wasn’t giving them the satisfaction of seeing him flinch.
He nudged Storm forward again, letting the distance stretch between them, the sound of their whispers fading behind him like a door closing.
And for the rest of the ride, Ethan kept his eyes ahead, pretending the dust in the air was the only thing making his chest feel tight.
Some of the younger girls giggled and whispered to each other, tossing their hair, giving him looks he didn’t know how to handle.
He flirted back because that’s what he’d always done—smile, joke, pretend he knew what he was doing.
But every time one of them leaned a little too close or asked if he remembered them from church camp, something twisted in his stomach.
He kept the ride moving, pointing out trails, warning them about low branches—anything to keep the focus off him.
Two hours later, they returned to the stables. The teens slid off their horses, chattering about pictures and posting them online. Ethan loosened Storm’s girth and was about to lead him inside when Mary stepped up beside him.
Mary had been in his grade—a pretty girl, long brown hair, hazel eyes that always looked like she was trying to figure people out. She smiled at him now, soft and familiar.
“Hey, Ethan,” she said. “You going to church on Sunday?”
His stomach tightened. “No. Not anymore.”
She blinked. “Really? My mom talked to your mom. She said you’d be there. Potluck after service.”
He let out a scant breath. “Yeah, well… I’m not going. Ever again.”
Mary tilted her head. “But your mom said.”
“My mother doesn’t speak for me.”
“If you say so.”
Mary jogged off toward the parking lot, her long brown hair swinging behind her. The rest of the teens piled into cars, laughing and shouting across the gravel. The entire scene felt too bright, too normal, like he’d wandered into someone else’s life for a minute.
He led Storm into the stall, but his hands wouldn’t stay steady. Mary’s words kept echoing.
My mom talked to your mom. She said you’d be there.
His throat squeezed. His mother always did that—made plans for him, spoke for him, smiled for him. Pretended everything was fine. Pretended he was fine. Pretended he wasn’t drowning under all the expectations she stacked on his shoulders.
He rubbed Storm’s neck, trying to breathe through the knot in his chest. The smell of hay and leather usually calmed him, but not today.
“Ethan.”
He turned. Carter stood just inside the barn, arms crossed, eyes sharp. He wasn’t scowling—more like he’d walked in on something he didn’t like.
“You good?” Carter asked.
Ethan nodded too fast. “Yeah. Just finishing up.”
Carter stepped closer, boots crunching on the straw. “That girl giving you trouble?”
“No,” Ethan said. “Just… church stuff.”
Carter’s jaw tightened a little. “You don’t owe anyone an explanation.”
Ethan shrugged. “Try telling my mom that.”
Carter said nothing for a moment. He just watched Ethan, eyes steady in a way that made Ethan feel seen—really seen—and that scared him more than Mary’s questions.
“You don’t have to go back there,” Carter said. “Not if you don’t want to.”
Ethan swallowed hard. “Yeah. I know.”
But he didn’t. Not really. His mother had a way of pulling him back into her world, no matter how far he ran.
Carter reached out and took Storm’s reins from his hands. “Go take a break. I’ll finish up.”
Ethan blinked. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” Carter said. “You look like you need air.”
Ethan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Thanks.”