Chapter 18
My Sister - Reba McEntire
Kinsley
L eaving the creek, Abby and I walked back to my trailer, the moon lighting our way.
After the chill of the water, the breeze was warm on my skin. I was feeling good. I’d finally gotten a bit of the old Wyatt back, the one who could smile, laugh, and have fun with me. I wanted more of that, so much more.
I’d hated saying goodnight and walking away from him. I’d really wanted to invite him back to my trailer, but I was stuck spending the night with my sister.
Abby and I had always been different, but lately, it was like we were worlds apart.
When we were young, we had been inseparable, our lives revolving around the ranch and our horses. Those early days were filled with so much joy and simplicity. I remembered us as little girls, giggling as we brushed our horse’s manes, dreaming of the day we’d compete together. Dad had set up a barrel racing pattern for us in the sand ring. Abby and I had been buzzing with excitement, taking turns weaving our horses through the barrels.
I remembered the thrill of that first run, the wind whipping through my hair as my little quarter horse ran his heart out for me. Abby had been right behind me, whooping and hollering, her face flushed with pure exhilaration.
“We’re going to be the best barrel racers ever, Kins!” Abby had exclaimed, her smile stretching from ear to ear.
In that moment, I had believed her. But it hadn’t lasted.
Things had changed. The innocent dreams of our childhood had faded, replaced by diverging interests and priorities. While I’d become more consumed by the sport, living the rodeo life, Abby had drifted away. She’d called it a ridiculous sport and wanted no part of it.
The sting of her words had cut deep, and no amount of pleading on my part would change her mind. Abby had turned her back on our shared passion, leaving me to navigate the rodeo world alone, and I had no idea why.
From that point on, a chasm had grown between us, widening with each passing year. The bond we had once cherished frayed until it was barely recognizable, replaced by awkward silences and unspoken resentments.
“Did you have fun tonight?” I asked Abby.
She only shrugged.
I rolled my eyes. Once inside, I tried to shake off the awkwardness, tossing my damp clothes into a corner. “You know, Grady was pretty interested in you,” I ventured as I wrapped a towel around myself.
“Not everyone enjoys the constant attention of your cowboy friends,” she snapped, her voice tight with annoyance as she flopped down onto a chair at the kitchenette table.
The towel half-secured, I paused, taken aback by her sharpness. “Hey, I was just messing around. Besides, it wouldn’t kill you to have a little fun now and then.” My words, meant to be light, were full of judgement I hadn’t intended.
Abby stood up, the chair screeching against the floor. “My idea of fun isn’t the same as yours, Kinsley. Not everyone needs to be the centre of attention all the time,” she retorted, her eyes blazing with a mixture of defiance and something else. Was it hurt?
“Abby, I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought—"
“What? Because a bull rider shows a little interest, I should be flattered? That I should be more like you?” Her voice broke a little on the last word.
The hurt in her voice made me pause, my defences crumbling. “No, Abby, that’s not what I’m saying. I just thought you might like someone noticing you. You know, someone as … outgoing as Grady.”
“Oh, right, because no one ever notices me. Not when Kinsley Jackson is around.”
“You know that’s not what I meant!”
Angry, I retreated to my bed. Abby, with a quiet huff, gathered blankets from a cupboard and began making a makeshift bed on the couch.
The trailer was quiet except for the occasional shift of fabric or sigh.
Abby broke the silence, her voice low but clear. “I’ve started seeing someone.”
Surprised, I rolled over to face her, my interest piqued. “Oh? Who’s the lucky guy?”
She hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features, before she replied, “Evan Morris.”
The name hit me like a cold splash of water. Memories of high school flooded back. He was popular, handsome, and knew it, flirting his way through parties, always surrounded by admirers. He was the type who never took anything seriously, including the string of girls at his side. I remembered him hitting on me a few times at parties, always with that confident smirk, assuming I’d be another notch on his belt. I had never been interested; his type had never appealed to me.
“Evan Morris?” I tried to keep my voice neutral despite the whirlwind of thoughts. “From high school?”
Abby nodded. She sat up with a slight defensiveness in her posture as if bracing for judgement. “Yes, that Evan.”
I processed this, trying to imagine the Evan I remembered with my quiet, reserved sister. Abby had always been the antithesis of guys like Evan—loud, outgoing, and always surrounded by a crowd. She preferred to keep to herself and her horses, staying clear of the drama that followed Evan and his friends. It baffled me why Evan would even pursue Abby. Of course, Abby was beautiful—any guy would see that—but their personalities were so different.
I couldn’t believe I had, even jokingly, entertained the notion of Grady and Abby, which was even more ludicrous if that was possible. Grady, with his wild rodeo lifestyle and his easy charm, represented everything Abby stayed away from. The rodeo circuit, the late nights, the constant travel—none of it was her. Abby had never shown the slightest interest in rodeo or the cowboys who came with it. And Evan, well… That didn’t seem to be the right direction either. I saw her with someone more reserved. Someone serious but kind.
“That’s ... interesting,” I managed, choosing my words carefully, but I knew as soon as the words left my mouth that I had chosen wrong. “I hope he’s good to you, Abby,” I offered.
Abby bristled, her voice tightening. “He is. But you wouldn’t understand, would you? You wouldn’t know a healthy relationship if it smacked you in the face.”
I recoiled. “What the fuck, Abby?” My patience with my sister was wearing thin.
Abby’s expression hardened. “He’s a lawyer now, Kinsley. People change. Or is that concept too foreign for you, given your endless dance with Wyatt?”
Her words stung. “Abby, that’s not fair. Things are complicated with Wyatt—”
“Complicated?” She scoffed. “Is that what you call it when you spend the entire night clinging to each other? Seems pretty straightforward to me.”
“It’s not like that with Wyatt. We’re friends and—"
“Friends?” Abby interrupted, her voice rising with incredulity. “So, the way you two flirted with each other tonight, that’s how ‘friends’ act? Please, Kinsley, who are you trying to fool?”
The accusation hit hard, forcing me to confront the blurred lines between Wyatt and me. “It’s not the same, Abby. Evan—”
“With Evan, I’m happy,” she cut in, her voice firm. “Can you say the same about you and Wyatt? Off again, on again. It’s exhausting, Kinsley.” The roll of her eyes was pointed and patronising.
I felt a flush of anger at her words, a fire that pushed back against her judgement. “At least I’m not pretending to be someone I’m not. Unlike some people who date guys because they tick all the ‘perfect’ boxes.”
Her comeback was swift but with a sharper edge. “You think Wyatt is box-free? Let’s see… Bad boy cowboy? Check. Perpetually broke? Check. Oh, and let’s not forget the charming habit of disappearing when things get tough. Check. Anything else you’d like to add to the list?”
“That’s low,” I shot back. “I’m trying to be supportive here, but you’re making it really hard.”
“Supportive? This from the sister who’s always in the spotlight and leaves no room for anyone else? Maybe I wanted something different, Kinsley. Maybe Evan’s exactly what I need.”
The implication that I was somehow the cause of her choices, her retreat into the shadows, ignited a fresh wave of frustration within me. “Or maybe you’re scared, Abby. Scared to really live, so you choose the safest option. Evan Morris might look good on paper, but is he what you want, or is he just another part of the ‘perfect life’ fa?ade?”
“You think you’re so brave because you ride fast horses and have a chaotic love life? At least I’m trying to find real happiness, not just the thrill of the next ride or the next argument with Wyatt.”
The trailer felt small, a pressure cooker set to explode. “Real happiness?” I challenged. “By always playing it safe?”
“We’re not talking about me anymore,” Abby snapped, her voice tight. “We’re talking about you and Wyatt. How many times will you go back to him before you realize it’s not going to work?”
Her words struck deep. I lay back on the bed, staring at the trailer’s ceiling, the weight of her accusation settling heavily on my chest.
Was it the thrill of the ride, the rush of the argument that kept me going back to him? Abby’s words replayed in my mind, taunting me.
I rolled over, burying my face in the pillow, trying to block out the thoughts that swirled in my head. But they wouldn’t leave me alone; they wouldn’t let me rest.
As I stared into the darkness of the trailer, I couldn’t help but mourn the loss of the closeness Abby and I used to have, that unbreakable sisterly bond we had once shared. Somewhere along the way, we had become strangers, two people leading parallel lives that rarely intersected.
I didn’t understand her choices, her desire for a life so different from mine. But maybe that was the problem. Maybe I’d been so focused on my own path, my own dreams, that I’d forgotten to see hers. I wished I could figure out where hers was leading. I had a hard time believing even she knew that.