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“What?” Cody said, stalling.

“Why you feel responsible for what happened to Britt.”

He should have known Chance would guess. “Because I am,” he said flatly. And he told him what had happened.

“But you’re not sure where it went down?”

“I haven’t had time to go look for it.” Because I’ve been trying to ease the guilt by working my ass off over there.

“So it might not have been over the fence line at all.”

“Maybe. But even if it wasn’t—”

“You’re going to take the blame anyway. Sounds familiar.”

He knew Chance was referring back to what he’d just told him. “But that’s different. That really wasn’t your fault. If that drone was over the line, this is mine.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Chance said, a bit of drawl creeping into his voice, “but isn’t there a borderline psychotic horse involved here somewhere?”

“The one that dumped me in the dirt yesterday?” he asked, his tone dry.

“I rest my case.”

“But Britt is twice the rider I am. Maybe more.”

“No maybe about it, bro,” Chance said with a grin. “Your expertise lies in other areas.”

“But that proves the point, doesn’t it?”

This brother who had been through hells Cody would never know studied him for a moment. Then, quietly, he asked, “Does she blame you?”

“No.” His tone must have given him away because Chance merely waited, one brow raised. He let out a disgusted breath. “She doesn’t know. She thinks the rockslide spooked said psychotic horse.”

“Maybe she’s right.”

“I saw it hit the ridge. I know it must have made noise.”

“Which she thinks was the rocks breaking loose with the rain?” Chance asked. Cody nodded. “Are you going to tell her?”

“I have to, don’t I?”

His brother went silent for a while, then, Chance-like, he distilled it down to the essence. “Only if you want to live with yourself.”

*

She missed him.

How utterly, totally insane was that?

Her mother was in the kitchen, making another ton of her favorite cookies so she’d always have something within reach. Her father was at the kitchen bar with pencil and paper, working on some ideas for her place, to make things easier once she was cleared to be on her own.

And here she was, trapped in this damned chair, moping because Cody hadn’t come over yet today.

Cody. Cody Rafferty. She was missing Cody Rafferty.

Yes, insane. That was the only answer.

“How’s it coming, dear?” Britt looked up to see her mother leaning over her father’s shoulder to look at the paper he had on the bar.