Page 16

You can do whatever you want with me, he says in his dreams.

And in his dreams, she does.

“I want you to come to dinner tomorrow.”

Eight words honest to God strike dread in my heart. Sensing my sudden distress, Grouch lifts her head off my thigh, ears flat and teeth bared at my brother. And as I peer up at him too, I don’t think my expression is all that different. “I have a meeting.”

Which I’d rather shoot myself in the foot than attend, but shit, I think I’d actually rather be stuck in a community center with a bunch of strangers, drinking shit free coffee and eating shittier free biscuits, than suffer through a Jackson family Sunday dinner.

“We’ll wait ‘til you’re done.” Brow wrinkling, Jackson eyes my chosen lunch spot quizzically. “What’re you doing out here?”

“Eating.” Hiding . Surprise, surprise, I do not enjoy the communal eating vibe.

Or more accurately, I guess, I don’t enjoy the communal eating chatter.

The small talk. The entirely unsubtle barrage of curiosity about my presence at Serenity, and my preceding absence.

I much prefer camping out at the back end of the main barn, sitting cross-legged in the dirt, soaking up as much peace and quiet as possible. “And watching Ruin.”

Following the jerk of my head, Jackson surveys the stallion expending some of his frantic energy in the nearby paddock. “Finn says he likes you.”

“Unbelievable, right?”

My brother slants me a deadpan look. “Dinner, okay?”

“Maybe.”

“Lottie.” He sighs like he knows my maybe is really a big, fat no way . “Baby girl, I’m not asking.”

I wrinkle my nose at the old nickname—he hasn’t called me that since I was a kid. “Jackson—”

“You can meet Izzy.”

That shuts me up. Pokes me right in the soft spot reserved solely for my nephews. Still, I act like I have to think about it before nodding sharply and muttering a sullen “ fine .”

Wisely, Jackson stifles the satisfied smirk I know damn well is itching to be set free. “Your meeting’s in Ponderosa Falls, right?”

I nod. Thank fuck. The next town over is still a little too close for comfort, but at least it’s not in Haven Ridge.

“I’ll drive you.”

“I—”

“ Charlotte .” Again, my protest is cut off—and by my full name, no less. A sure sign that my brother means business. “Not asking.”

“Yes, father,” I joke and Jackson snorts and rolls his eyes, but when I push to my feet, he tugs me beneath his arm and pecks me on the top of my head like I imagine a dad would—like he often does. “I gotta get back to work.”

He tightens his grip before I can slip out of it. “I’ve got a specialist coming to work with Ruin next week. You wanna help out?”

That offer, I don’t even pretend to mull over. “Definitely.”

“Good.” With a pleased nod, Jackson releases me, socking me on the shoulder as he adopts a dumbass, fake Southern drawl. “Go on, get.”

Rolling my eyes, I slope inside the barn. Grouch doesn’t join me, loping off to join her siblings and mother instead where they sprawl on the sunny porch, leaving me alone.

Not that that lasts long. It never does. Like fucking clockwork, I spend five whole seconds in my own company before, lo and behold, there he is.

Finn.

For someone who’s scared of me, allegedly, he sure does spend a fuck ton of time in my presence.

He’s always there. Everywhere. Working. Lurking.

It’s like I can’t get away from the guy, and God knows I’ve tried.

I can’t tell if it’s a coincidence or if he’s following me or if he’s been assigned to follow me—I wouldn’t put it past my older siblings to sic me with a watchdog.

Whatever the case, he’s there. In my vicinity at all times, at all hours.

Honestly, I’m surprised I haven’t woken up with him sleeping outside my fucking bedroom.

As it is, he’s the first thing I see in the morning, always already in the kitchen when I slope downstairs.

The last thing I see before bed too, a deep ‘ good night ’ always following me up to the attic.

If the circumstances were different, I don’t think I’d consider that all that terrible a way to start or end my day.

But the circumstances are not different.

So when he strolls into the barn, fucking whistling a merry tune, I turn my back. Pretend he isn’t there. Pretend his presence isn’t such a very visceral thing; pretend I am, actually, more interested in the Clydesdale dodging my attempts to pet him because I’m not his pretty, blonde owner.

It’s just my luck that Finn slips into the stall right next door.

“How’s my girl, huh?” he murmurs to what might be the only horse on the planet that’s bigger than Clyde, and I frown.

And I frown some more when the big, black Shire greets the ranch hand with a soft snort against his neck.

Affectionately so, like she likes him, which is weird to me because as sweet a mare as Gaia is, there’s only one human alive she actually likes.

I liked him too. Though, I’m not sure he ever knew that. I sure as fuck never told him, but I think he knew. Hunter was smart like that. Intuitive. He noticed everything, but he kept shit to himself, minded his own business.

He caught me crying in the barn once. The other barn that, before it became a stable, was briefly my dusty, dark hiding spot. I’d just had a fight with Lux about… I don’t even remember what, but I know I was upset. I was licking my wounds, mid-releasing my frustrations when Hunter stumbled upon me.

He didn’t say anything—he never said anything. He just left me to it, but the next time I found my way there, there was a box of tissues tucked in the corner.

Something that made me laugh when I really, really needed it.

It doesn’t make me laugh now. In fact, thinking about Hunter makes me feel like shit because right before he ran off into the sunset with my brother’s ex-girlfriend, he asked me to take care of Gaia. And I agreed. And then I fucked off too.

I’m well aware that I’m being ridiculous. That I’m being the brat Finn claimed me to be. Yet self-awareness doesn’t stop me from blurting out, “That’s not your horse.”

Finn takes his time turning towards me, his head just as slow to tip to one side. “She yours?”

I do some kind of a nod-shrug combo.

“May I take her for a ride, please, Your Highness?”

Jackass .

I purse my lips and I guess Finn takes that as permission because he leads her into the aisle—more like Gaia shoves him into the aisle. I think the mare would saddle herself up if she could. What the hell? “Where’re you going?”

“Got some fences to mend.” He tugs on the saddle, checking it’s secure, before sliding one foot into a stirrup and smoothly hoisting himself up. “You wanna come?”

I don’t consider it—that’s not why I hesitate.

I just take a moment to process the sight of a big man comfortably straddling a bigger horse, something innately cocky in his posture and the way he gathers the reins in one hand.

He’s all spread thighs and corded forearms and a crooked grin, and it distracts me.

My snapped, snarky no thanks gets caught in my throat.

And before I can spit it out, Finn makes a sound through his teeth. He clucks his tongue, and I get the feeling it’s a chastise aimed at me as much as it’s a command for Gaia to get moving. “Too bad I got your horse, princess.”

For the hundredth time in the space of a single hour, Yasmin asks if I’m sure.

From my position slouched on the couch, one hand in a family-size bag of candy corn while the other tries to solve today’s Wordle, I shake my head without looking up. “I’m good.”

Good being code for grounded , of course.

When Yasmin sighs disappointedly, I’m tempted to tell her to take it up with my jailers.

Although, even if I didn’t have an invisible house arrest anklet weighing me down, I wouldn’t join the other hands on their weekly big night out before their day off tomorrow.

It sounds like my worst nightmare, to be honest. Cramming into Bishop’s on a busy Saturday night, making small talk with strangers—or worse, making small talk with not strangers.

With people I know. People I went to high school with.

Just thinking about it makes me want to dry heave.

No, I’m perfectly fine vegging out right here all night.

Sure, I got the itch a little watching Yasmin get ready, as she parked herself on the living room floor because she said the lighting was best down here and talked my ear off for an hour and a half.

I might’ve stared a little wistfully as she slicked on eyeliner and red lipstick, and fixed all that hair into a sleek ponytail, and briefly scampered upstairs to slip into a mini skirt.

That always was my favorite part of going out, the getting all dolled up bit.

The rest of it though, I’ll pass. Because I want to, not because I’ve been forbidden from having a social life.

Long, golden brown legs appear in my peripheral, crossing at the knee as Yasmin perches on the coffee table in front of me. “Just one drink?”

Speaking of things I want. “Sorry.”

She pouts, shoulders slumping, and God, speaking of things that make me itch too. Her disappointment hits me in the sternum, lodging behind my rib cage to join the weighty chunk of that emotion I’ve already accrued after twenty-two years of letting people down.

I don’t want any more of it. I want to get Yasmin off my back. That’s why I mumble, “Maybe next time, though.”

Not because I intend on following through. Only because I want her to leave me alone.

Which she does. With a pleased smile and a pat on my blanket-covered leg, she skips off towards the two boys waiting for her by the front door.

Her boyfriend slaps her on the ass while Adam yanks her ponytail, the trio skipping towards one of the trucks parked outside just as the owner thunders down the stairs, twirling his keys around one, long finger.