Page 35

S ummer was in full swing. Nineteen hours of sunlight daily chased away the shadows that had plagued her the last few weeks. Each extra minute of sun felt like a promise — that they’d made it through the dark.

Until they could convince Gramps that Lala was dangerous, Claire couldn’t go home to Grams’s.

She sat on the porch swing at Clara Mae’s ranch, wrapped in a blanket, her cast propped on a stool.

Buttercup grazed in the nearest paddock, and Bolt stood near the fence, ears flicking with every breeze.

Claire could smell horses, hay, and something sweet in the air — sap rising in the trees, maybe. Or just hope.

Adam came up the steps, carrying two mugs of hot cocoa. She smiled as he handed her one.

“Thought you could use this,” he said.

Claire inhaled the steam. “How did you know I liked extra marshmallows?”

He sat beside her. “You said it in class once, first or second grade, I think. The teacher asked what our favorite thing was. While other kids came up with extravagant answers, you said hot chocolate with extra marshmallows.”

“You remember that?”

“I remember everything, Claire.”

They sipped in silence for a few moments.

“You okay?” Adam asked.

Claire nodded slowly. “Yeah. Getting there.”

He hesitated. “I need to ask… You said you smelled Charlie perfume, but you never saw Lala? I know she was there. But without your testimony…”

She didn’t answer right away. “I can’t prove it, Adam. But I know this… She’ll screw up.”

Adam’s hand tightened around his mug. “I know, but how do we make others see what we know?”

“We don’t have to yet.” Claire turned her head toward him. “She slipped up. She will again.”

Rusty emerged from the barn, waved, then disappeared down the path toward the river.

Adam watched him go.

“Rusty thinks we should rebuild the farrier station this summer,” he said absently.

Claire raised an eyebrow. “You mean, Rusty wants you to rebuild it. Aren’t he and Clara Mae leaving soon now that you have some extra hands?”

Adam chuckled nervously. “Supposed to, but she’s nervous. Says her gut tells her this isn’t over.”

They fell quiet again.

Claire glanced down at her cast. “You know what the worst part of all this is?”

Adam looked at her. “What?”

“I keep thinking of things I want to do and then remember I can’t. Not yet.”

He leaned closer. “What kind of things?”

She smirked. “Ride. Climb. Run away with you.”

Adam’s breath caught. “You don’t have to run, Claire.”

She reached for his hand. “I’m not running. I’m choosing.”

He kissed her then, slow and steady, with no urgency — just the kind of kiss that made a girl believe in fairy tales again.

In the field, Buttercup nickered softly, as if giving her approval.