Chapter 5 #2
“We all had our escapes,” Gage said quietly. “Mine was fixing the bike. Our grandfather helped me with it. As long as my hands were busy and covered in oil, I could stop thinking.”
“I rode,” Booker said. “Horses, quads, anything that got me moving. Hard to think when you’re focused on not falling off.”
“I cooked,” Trace added. “And I was terrible at it! But then I had Delaney and she kept me sane.”
I looked at these four men, each of them carrying their own scars, their own survival mechanisms. We were different in so many ways. Different childhoods, different struggles, different paths. But in this moment, sharing food on a hilltop, we weren’t so different after all.
“Tell me something embarrassing about each other,” I said. “I need ammunition for future family dinners.”
They laughed, and the stories started flowing.
Xander’s disastrous attempt at learning guitar.
Gage getting stuck in a tree trying to rescue a cat that didn’t need rescuing.
Booker’s terrible poetry phase in eighth grade.
Trace’s failed attempt at growing a beard in high school that looked, according to Xander, “like a mangy raccoon died on your face.”
I was laughing so hard my stomach hurt, memorizing every story, every detail. Building a library of knowledge about these men who were becoming real to me. Not just concepts or obligations, but people. Brothers.
“Your turn,” Gage said. “Embarrassing Leigh story.”
I thought for a moment. “Okay. When I was thirteen, I convinced myself I was going to be a professional photographer. Entered this big contest with absolutely terrible photos of seagulls.”
“How bad?” Xander asked.
“They were blurry. Every single one. I didn’t understand focus yet, I just pointed and clicked.” I cringed at the memory. “Didn’t even make the first cut. I was devastated.”
“But you kept going,” Trace said.
“Yeah. I kept going.”
“That’s what matters,” Booker said. “Failure’s only permanent if you let it be.”
We ate and talked as the sun moved across the sky, and something settled in my chest. Something that felt suspiciously like belonging.
Eventually, Trace checked his watch. “We should head back. Reece is probably wondering where we disappeared to.”
We packed up, and as I walked to my quad Booker stopped me.
“Hey. I wanted to say... we’re really glad you’re here. I know this is weird and complicated, but we meant what we said. You’re family now.”
My throat tightened. “Thank you. For all of this. The quad, the ride, just... including me.”
“You don’t have to thank us,” Xander said, coming up beside Booker. “This is what family does.”
“Speaking of which,” Gage added, “we ride every few weeks. Sometimes more if we’re avoiding our women.” He grinned. “You’re expected to show up now. No backing out.”
“I’ll be there,” I promised.
“Good.” Trace handed me a set of keys. “These are yours. Don’t lose them.”
I closed my fingers around the keys, the metal warm from his hand. “I won’t.”
The ride back down was easier, my confidence growing with each turn. And when we got back to the barn and parked the quads in their line, I looked at them arranged side by side and felt something shift.
This wasn’t temporary. This wasn’t just a visit or an obligation. This was them claiming me as theirs.
And I was claiming them right back.
“Same time next month?” Booker asked as we walked out of the barn.
“Definitely.”
Mom was waiting by the car, and from her smile, I knew she could see the change in me. Something lighter. Steadier.
“Good time?” she asked as we drove away.
“Yeah.” I watched the ranch disappear in the rearview mirror, the keys to my quad heavy in my pocket. “Really good.”
#
That night, lying in bed at Jasper’s house, I turned the keys over in my hands. Physical proof that I belonged. That I had brothers who wanted me there. Who’d literally bought me a seat at their table.
I thought about Dex, about how he’d asked me what I was nervous about that night in the bar. I’d told him I was afraid of not fitting in, of being on the outside looking in.
But I wasn’t on the outside anymore. I was in. I was part of this.
My phone buzzed with a new group text, and I smiled when I saw the name: Farrington Siblings.
Trace: Photo evidence of Leigh’s first ride. Proof she didn’t crash.
A photo loaded. The five of us on the hilltop, quads in the background, all of us grinning like idiots.
Xander: Barely didn’t crash. That turn on the way down was questionable.
Leigh: I didn’t hear you complaining when I handled it perfectly.
Gage: He was too busy trying not to laugh.
Booker: Same time next month. No excuses.
Leigh: Yeah, I remember. I’ll be there.
And I meant it. Because for the first time in my life, I had brothers. Real brothers who showed up and included me and made me feel like I’d always been part of this family.
Even if I’d been hidden away for twenty-seven years, even if circumstances had kept us apart, we were together now.
And that’s what mattered.
I set the phone down and closed my eyes, the keys still in my hand, and let myself believe it.
I belonged here. With them.
I was a Farrington.
And no one could take that away.