Chapter 9
Asher
My phone chimed early the next morning, the sound piercing through the heavy fog of sleep and dragging me back to reality. I groaned, running a tired hand over my face, trying to scrape together some semblance of awareness.
Judging by how dark it was outside of the windows, I’d only been asleep for a few hours, passed out after Dexter had wandered off to my room and I’d crashed with Grey in his.
Now, my body protested as I pushed myself upright, sore from the cramped pretzel I’d somehow twisted myself into after finally falling asleep.
Beside me, Grey let out a soft grunt as the blankets dragged with me, his hand immediately batting at my side before he ripped them back, rolling over and pulling them tight around his body like a damn burrito.
I shook my head, exhaling sharply.
If he hogged them all night, he was going to wake up on the damn floor.
Standing up from Grey’s full-sized bed, I stretched my arms high above my head, sighing in relief when a few satisfying pops ran down my spine and into my shoulders.
My phone lit up again across the room, another text incoming.
I frowned. That was weird. Usually, the only people who texted me were currently asleep under this roof.
My gaze flicked toward the phone, catching the soft glow from where it sat on the desk across the room. Heading over, I swiped it off the surface, unplugging the charger before flipping it over and leaning a hip against the desk.
The screen lit up, instantly blinding me.
“Ugh,” I muttered, squinting hard, blinking the floating spots out of my vision.
When they finally cleared, I focused on the contact name scrolling across my screen.
Laken.
My frown deepened.
Why the hell would he be texting me at... God, 4:22am?
Swiping my finger over the passcode screen, I opened up the message.
‘You up?’ it read.
That was all the text said.
I stared at it for a second, brow furrowing.
Then, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I typed back: ‘I am now.’
I barely had time to set my phone down before the screen lit up again, this time with an incoming call.
I didn’t hesitate.
Grabbing my phone, I quickly pushed away from the desk and made my way toward the door, slipping out of Grey’s room as quietly as I could. The last thing I needed was him waking up and demanding to know why the hell I was taking a call at four in the goddamn morning.
Padding lightly down the hall, I kept my steps careful, moving past the guest rooms, past the kitchen, and straight for the front door.
The second I stepped outside, the night air hit me like a slap—humid but cooler than the usual sweltering Louisiana heat, carrying just enough of a breeze to send a shiver up my spine.
I pulled the door shut behind me, leaning against it as I finally swiped my finger over the screen. Bringing the phone up to my ear, I exhaled, voice still heavy with sleep as I muttered, “Hello?”
“Hey.” Laken’s voice came through the line, annoyingly alert for it being an hour and a half before he was even supposed to be up for chores. “You got a second?”
I ran a hand through my hair, still half-asleep as I leaned back against the front door. “Kind of do now that you woke me up.”
He sighed. “Sorry. I just wanted to keep you in the loop before you found out some other way.”
My stomach dropped.
I did not like the sound of that.
At all.
The last time someone had said something like that to me, it hadn’t been good news. My grip tightened around my phone. “What happened?”
Laken hesitated—just for a second. Just long enough that I nearly snapped at him to speak.
And then, finally, he said, “Pelly got sick.”
What?
I instantly pushed off the door, my body going rigid. “How sick?”
Another pause. Too fucking long.
“We’re not sure,” he admitted. “Sully was up early doing some paperwork in the office when he saw she was laying down in her stall. She apparently got really sick in the middle of the night. Made a mess of the whole stall. A few of the other horses got sick as well, but none of them were found laying down.”
My heart started pounding hard, my breath catching in my throat.
Laying down?
That was bad for a horse.
That was real bad.
I clenched my jaw, forcing my voice to stay even. “Tell me he called Teddy to come out and do an emergency look.”
“Wilder actually loaded her up into the trailer and took her over to the equine hospital.”
I sagged against the front door, relief rushing through me so fast I nearly dropped my damn phone. Smart thinking on his part.
Damn good thinking, actually. There was no sense in taking any chances. Because whatever was going on, it wasn’t just some minor bug. If Pelly was down, if she’d been sick enough to make a mess of her stall, if other horses were starting to show symptoms, too—
This was something that needed to be handled fast.
My fingers curled tighter around my phone.
“What do you think happened?” I asked.
“Not sure. We’re checking the feed since a few other horses got sick also, so I’ll keep you posted.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, my chest tight with unease. “And thank you for calling me. Sorry for being a bear.”
I hated the not knowing.
He chuckled softly, the sound warm. He got it, he knew I wasn’t really mad at him—just anxious, wound too tight, too wired to think straight because of which horse was being affected. “It’s okay, Asher. I know how much she means to you. That’s why I didn’t mind volunteering as tribute to call you.”
“I appreciate you.”
“Thank Wilder. He was the one who woke me up.”
My heart squeezed.
I really, really didn’t want to read into that.
But... how could I not?
It didn’t mean anything.
It didn’t mean anything.
Wilder, just like Laken, knew how much I loved Pelly. He knew how attached I was to that damn horse. Of course, he’d make sure I found out right away. Of course, he’d handle it—because that’s what he did. That was what a good rancher did for the animals in their care.
Him going out of his way to not only pull Laken out of bed to serve as his messenger, but to also get Pelly up and load her into the back of a trailer in order to bring her to the vet was taking care of the rescues the ranch took in.
He wasn’t doing it for me; he was doing it because it was the right call. Because Pelly needed to be seen immediately. Because that was just part of the damn job.
It had nothing to do with me.
I swallowed thickly. “I should probably call him.”
“Good idea. He’s still at the hospital with her so he’ll be able to give you a better update than me.”
“Thank you, Laken. I’ll text you in a bit.”
“Sounds good.”
My hands shook when I pulled my phone away from my face. A deep, slow breath pushed past my lips, but it did little to steady the anxious energy rattling through me.
I hated that I couldn’t do anything. That I was an entire state and a half away while Pelly was in some equine hospital, probably scared and wondering what the hell was happening to her while a bunch of vets poked and prodded at her.
I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, pressing the heel of my palm against my forehead.
I hoped—God, I hoped—none of this was triggering memories of the place she’d come from. Of the years she’d spent in neglect, too thin, too scared, too broken to trust a single soul.
She had a forever home at the Boone ranch. A cushy life where she’d be spoiled rotten until her dying day.
But did she know that?
Did she know that this wasn’t abandonment?
That she wasn’t being sent back to the hellhole she’d barely survived coming from?
Fuck.
I thumbed through my contacts, scrolling until I found Wilder’s.
Our call log was sparse. Hardly anything exchanged between us—just a handful of short calls, most of them over work-related things. Nothing personal.
Which made sense. We saw each other every damn day.
What reason did we have to text or call when I could just walk up to his house or catch him at the stables?
When I could stand in front of him instead of looking at his name on a screen?
But now, staring at his contact, my thumb hovering over the call button, I felt... hesitant.
Like this was crossing some kind of invisible line.
A work call?
A necessary call?
That wouldn’t be weird. That wouldn’t make my stomach clench the way it was right now.
But this?
This wasn’t about the ranch. This wasn’t about morning chores or scheduling rotations or checking in on the other hands.
This was me, reaching for him because I needed to hear his voice.
I needed him to tell me everything was going to be okay before I had a massive breakdown.
Because right now, as my thoughts were spiraling and my gut twisted itself into knots, the only thing I could think about was how badly I wanted to hear his voice.
I wanted him to tell me Pelly was okay. That she wasn’t scared and she wasn’t hurting. That she was going to make it through this, and it wasn’t as bad as I was imagining, that I didn’t need to be freaking the hell out while stuck hundreds of miles away, useless and helpless to do anything.
I needed him to steady me before I lost my grip on my own damn emotions and had a massive breakdown at four in the goddamn morning on my brother’s front porch.
And that?
That was the part that terrified me the most.
Just as quickly, though, I pushed the thought away. Shoved it deep down, where it couldn’t distract me from what I needed to be doing right now.
Tapping on his name, I drew the phone up to my ear and waited for the other side to ring. Two tones passed before the other end finally picked up.
“Asher.”