Chapter Eleven
Nora
Later that morning, I was still circling the road to the barn.
Progress.
Boots on. Jeans tucked. Hair twisted into a messy knot. I stood at the edge of the gravel drive, staring down the long dirt road that curved toward my family’s pastures. I’d even taken three steps toward it before stopping dead.
My throat felt thick, tight with that familiar pressure I used to feel when I tried not to cry when my mother chose a solitary ride over letting me go with her.
The morning air still held that soft, early summer warmth Firebrook Valley was famous for—the scent of pine and damp earth. I wanted to do this happily.
Joyfully.
So, why was I fighting back tears?
This was my life. The one I had quietly shut the door on two summers ago. Time to reclaim it.
On one.
Two.
Two and a half.
Two and three quarters.
Two and nine tenths.
I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets, trying to trap the nervous energy before it could vibrate out of me.
“It’s good to see you back in riding boots.”
I jumped slightly at the voice. Evan was leaning against the split-rail fence a few yards away, arms folded across his chest.
“How long have you been standing there?” I asked.
“Long enough to know you’re either about to go to the barn,” he said, “or run in the opposite direction.” He smiled. “And that you talk to yourself.”
I exhaled slowly, my gaze dropping to the dirt. “I’m going to the barn.”
His gaze moved over me slowly. “You always loved it there,” he said.
“Yeah,” I muttered. I looked down the road that led to the pastures again, the red siding of the stables peeking through the trees. “I will again,” I said forcefully.
He didn’t interrupt me.
“It’s been two years,” I said. “That’s enough to heal.”
Evan pushed away from the fence and walked closer. “It’s still hard, isn’t it?” he asked gently.
I nodded once.
Silence stretched between us, thick with the weight of the things we didn’t say. Then, he asked carefully, “Do you want me to go get Brady?”
The offer was respectful, kind, and entirely thoughtful. It still landed like a small twist in my chest. Why couldn’t he see that he was who I wanted with me?
“No,” I said softly. “I can do this.”
He studied my face for a moment, then gave a steady nod. “Alright.”
I squared my shoulders.
Raised my chin.
Inhaled deeply.
But didn’t move.
“Want me to walk you there?” he asked gently.
The simple steadiness of the offer nearly broke my resolve. “Yes,” I whispered.
We started down the road together.
For the first few minutes, neither of us spoke. Gravel crunched under our boots while the barn slowly grew larger, coming into full view past the maple trees. It looked exactly the same as the last time I’d seen it, which somehow made the reality of being here worse.
“You know,” Evan said lightly, breaking the silence, “you were legendary when we were kids.”
I blinked at him, surprised. “Legendary?”
“Oh yeah.”
“For what?”
“Well,” he said, “remember the summer you hosted a ‘bring your farm animal for a swim’ at Mrs. Kelly’s pond? Not only did everyone go, but Mrs. Kelly made us lunch.”
I smiled at the memory. “Kai brought a pig that he couldn’t catch after it got wet.”
“I’m pretty sure it still lives there.”
I laughed. “Smart pig. Mrs. Kelly fed it, and we all know she’s an awesome cook.”
“You encouraged the kids to take turns diving off Rogue. He found that highly undignified.”
“I stand by that decision.”
Evan laughed softly. “I heard about that for years. Laurent has a photo of Rogue with everyone crawling all over him. He shows it off as proof that good training makes all around good horses.”
I smiled despite myself. “He’s right. And we’re lucky Harper takes after his uncle. I never worry that our horses aren’t well cared for.”
The barn was fully in front of us now. My steps slowed as the familiar red siding glowed in the sunlight. The massive paddocks stretched wide behind it, the green grass moving gently in the breeze. My chest tightened until it was hard to draw a full breath.
Evan rested his arms on the fence beside me. “Take your time,” he said.
I nodded, but my mind wasn’t just on the horses anymore. Evan’s word—legendary—echoed in my head, but it wasn’t a childhood pond I was thinking of. It was a humid night in a hallway that smelled of stale beer and bad intentions. I wasn’t a coward that day.
The memory hit me with the force of a physical blow.
I could still feel the vibration of the bass through the floorboards of that frat house.
I wasn’t supposed to be there, but I’d overheard my roommates’ boyfriends laughing about the “Holliston setup.” They were going to record him, plant drugs, and hand Gabe Holliston’s youngest son over to the police on a silver platter just to see the titan fall.
I hadn’t called the police. I hadn’t called my father.
I’d simply gone to that frat house. When I found Brady, he was slumped in a chair, glassy-eyed and surrounded by predators with cell phone cameras.
When they’d blocked my way, shouting slurs about the “stuck-up Burke girl” and grabbing at my clothes until my shirt was half-torn, something in me had snapped.
I wasn’t the quiet daughter then. I was a storm.
I’d found the ringleader—a boy twice my size—and put my entire weight behind a punch that shattered his front tooth and silenced the room.
I’d dragged Brady out while the chaos erupted behind us, my knuckles throbbing and my heart screaming that I didn’t care about the feud. I only cared about him.
When it comes to being brave for others, I find the strength to be.
I need to do that for myself.
Right now.
I lifted two fingers to my mouth and whistled—the sharp, clear call Harper had taught me to use.
For a moment, nothing happened. My stomach dropped. The thought slammed into me unexpectedly hard: What if Sunny forgot me? Two summers was a long time. Horses remembered voices and routines, but bonds could fade. What if—
Movement exploded across the pasture.
He came galloping, not gaiting, not floating. My little Paso thundered over the grass in a golden blur, mane flying and ears locked forward as he closed the distance.
My breath caught. “Sunny.”
He skidded to a stop at the fence, nickering loudly. I was over the rail before I could think better of it, and he met me halfway. The moment I reached him, I buried my face in his mane and completely lost it.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered into the warm silk of his neck. “I’m so sorry I stayed away.”
His coat still smelled like summer grass and a thousand happy memories. Sunny blew warm air against my shoulder and pressed closer, nickering softly as if he’d missed me every bit as much as I’d missed him.
I laughed through my tears, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I missed you,” I said. “God, I missed you.” Sunny nudged my chest impatiently, clearly checking my pockets for the treats I used to hide there. I sniffed and rubbed his face. “You’re still greedy. I’ll bring you something later.”
I glanced over my shoulder. Evan was standing quietly at the fence. He didn’t interrupt. He just stayed.
Another horse approached, slow and elegant. Untouchable de Clasico. My mother’s mare, born here from my mother’s first horse. My chest tightened instantly. Sunny stepped aside slightly as the mare stopped beside us. Untouchable stretched her neck toward me.
I froze. This was the horse my mother had ridden into the mountains that morning. Love and anger twisted painfully together inside me.
“I hated that she chose you over me,” I whispered. “Even on that last day.”
The mare let out one low, rumbling breath against my hair. Her gentle eyes held no guilt, only love. No past, just the present.
“I know it wasn’t your fault,” I said, tears slipping down my face again.
My hand lifted slowly. I touched her face, my trembling fingers sliding down the silky mane I hadn’t been able to bring myself to touch since the day everything changed. Untouchable nickered softly, and the sound tore something open inside me.
“Do you miss her too?” I whispered.
For one heartbeat, I could almost smell my mother’s perfume, the same faint citrus she wore every morning before she rode out. The mare lowered her head slightly.
And I broke. I wrapped my arms around her neck and ugly cried into her mane, the grief I’d held back for two years finally crashing through every wall I’d built.
I wouldn’t have blamed her if she’d pulled away.
It was a lot of emotion to lay at her hooves.
But she stood there, strong and present with me as I faced my grief.
“I forgive you,” I whispered.
Sunny hovered beside us, nudging my shoulder as if he were trying to help. Eventually, the storm inside me calmed. My breathing steadied, and the tears eased. I wiped my face and stepped back, a bit of embarrassment creeping in now that the intensity had passed.
I needed this.
I gave both horses a pat. “I love both of you. I hope you’ve been missing riding, because I’m going to figure out a way to spend time with you. No excuses. Even if it’s hard. We’re doing this.”
Feeling stronger, I turned toward the fence, expecting to see Evan still standing there.
Instead I saw Brady. He waved awkwardly.
I waved back, then wiped more of my tears from my cheeks.
“You okay?” he asked.
I stared at him for a long moment, then gave a small, shaky laugh. “Yeah,” I said quietly.
His expression was pained and confused, matching exactly how I felt on the inside.