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He doesn’t know how to explain to her that he wants more than a closet kiss.

He doesn’t know how to handle the inevitable truth that she doesn’t.

“So they didn’t see you?”

Sticking the manure-covered end of my pitchfork into the dirt, I cock my head at my older sister. “I’m alive, aren’t I?”

“That’s not funny,” Lux chides, yet she smiles like it’s at least a little funny. Finishing mucking out the stall of a chestnut Morgan so creatively named—wait for it— Morgan , she leans her own pitchfork against the wall. “I’ll sort it out, okay? Thanks for telling me.”

I almost didn’t. Old, hard-to-shake habits urged me to keep my discovery to myself, and I did for a couple of days. But my newfound moral compass pointed me in the honest direction—the last thing I need is to give Lux something else to be mad at me for. “What do you think they were doing?”

Too quickly, Lux shrugs. “Who knows?”

She does, it sounds like. Her voice is way too high-pitched to successfully pull off nonchalance, and if there’s one thing I know how to sniff out, it’s a shitty attempt at a lie. “Is something going on with them?”

Suddenly, Lux finds a wheelbarrow full of shit infinitely more interesting than our conversation. As she wheels past the stall I’m in, whistling casually like that’s something she has ever actually done, I duck into the aisle and block her path. “Alexandra.”

Dropping the barrow, Lux shucks the protective gloves she’s wearing, tucking them into her waistband before bracing her hands on her hips. “It’s really not a big deal.”

My eyes narrow. Bullshit .

“More of an annoyance, really.”

“Lux, will you just tell me?”

“They’re just…” She rakes her fingers through her ponytail, twirling the end around her index. “Well, they’re not all that happy about us taking their horses.”

“Taking?” I frown. “I thought they dumped them on you.”

Lux’s gaze drifts to the rafters. “Some of them.”

“And the others?”

She exhales heavily. “A couple of months ago, animal welfare seized a bunch of their horses, and since we’re a registered rescue, they gave them to us.”

Some sixth sense warns me that I will not like wherever this is going. “Which horses?”

Lux rattles off a few names, still not fucking looking at me, and even before she reluctantly utters the final one, I know exactly who it’s going to be. “And Ruin.”

Of course. Of fucking course. “So, what, they want him back? That’s… that’s ridiculous. They can’t do that. Can they?”

“No.” A loaded pause. “Not legally.”

Briefly, I try to recall the last time the Webers gave a flying fuck about legality.

Flexing and stretching my fingers repeatedly, I try to tamp down on the pressure tightening my chest; try to stop it from spreading, metastasizing, materializing into something angry that I throw at the wrong person.

“Hey.” Gripping my bicep firmly, Lux gives me a shake. “It’s fine. It’s not your problem. Don’t worry about it. Let’s get something to eat before your meeting, yeah?”

Meeting. Fuck . That’s the last thing I feel like doing. Which, I guess, probably means it’s the exact thing I should be doing. “I thought Jackson was driving me.”

Jackson always drives me. It’s our thing—or at least as much of a thing that a three-week habit can be. Yet suddenly, “He’s busy now.”

Not unfathomable, considering his wedding is just around the corner, but in case I hadn’t already made it clear, my sister is a terrible liar.

As Lux tugs me out of the stable, I smirk. “You’re gonna sit outside and wait for Caroline’s dad to show up, aren’t you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffs, then eyes me sideways. “I’m gonna sit in the car and wait for Caroline’s dad to show up.”

Knew it. “I doubt he will,” I muse, reminding her that, “He didn’t last week.”

“You never know.”

“What’re you gonna do if he does?”

She doesn’t even hesitate. “Run him over.”

Snickering, I poke her in the ribs. “You’re bad.”

“Tap him with my bumper, at least.”

“Huh. Maybe we really are related.”

Looping an arm around my shoulders, Lux knocks our heads together playfully. “You’ve got more than just my face, kid.”

Something bright blossoms behind my ribcage and fills my chest with warmth.

A short-lived sensation, unfortunately. Anything warm is promptly zapped from my veins when, as we near the house, a yell of Lux’s name diverts our attention to the main barn instead—to the man storming our way.

I don’t know why the sight of Finn makes me stutter a step and gulp like a fucking fish.

Lie .

Yes, I do. It’s because the last time I spoke to him, we were locked in a closet together.

Smushed together. And we almost… well, we almost did something that freaked me out so badly, I’ve spent the past few days avoiding him.

And him me, I think. His brand of avoidance isn’t quite as obvious as mine, he isn’t aloof or avoidant or distant, but there is distance .

Not quite a gaping canyon, but a crack, undeniably.

He hasn't been as there as he usually is. He hasn’t lingered as much.

Except during training sessions with Carmen and Ruin.

Which, of course, isn’t the slightest bit infuriating.

God, it’s so fucking silly . We almost kissed.

So what? It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve made out with the wrong person, and I’m sure it wouldn’t’ve been the last either.

It shouldn’t be this big of a deal, it shouldn’t make me feel all weird and squirrely, and I sure as fuck shouldn’t care about it not happening more than the consequences of it actually occurring.

Except… well, it doesn’t feel like there would’ve been consequences.

It didn’t feel like Finn was the wrong person .

It didn’t feel like I was doing something wrong at all.

It felt like I was doing something stupid, sure, but not in the delightfully rebellious way I’ve developed a taste for over the course of my life.

It was more… I don’t know. Scary doesn’t feel like the right word. Daunting, maybe.

Like I said, silly .

Like I said, it didn’t even happen .

Like I said, so fucking what?

Get over it, Lottie. Get the fuck over yourself.

Squaring my shoulders, I lift my chin, bracing myself for the inevitable weight of his gaze finding mine.

Except it doesn’t.

It skips right on over me.

It locks on Lux, and that fucking stings.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s that pregnant mare,” Finn spits and I recoil at the venom he projects, unaware that he was capable of such poison. “They fucking dumped her on a back road in the middle of nowhere. People who found her said she’s in a bad way.”

Both me and my sister swear. “She’s on her way here?”

“Ten minutes out.”

“Shit.” Lux glances at me, face crinkled with apology. “I should be here.”

I nod without hesitating. “Agreed. So should I.”

“No, you gotta go. You already skipped one—” She cuts herself off, eyeing Finn as she clears her throat. “You need to go.”

“Lux, c’mon. I can help.”

“This isn’t up for discussion, kid. Get out of here.”

“What, am I walking?”

“I’ll drive you.”

I squint at Finn—at the mouth that just uttered the only words he’s aimed in my direction in days. “No.”

“I need to go into town anyways to get some foal formula.” He swallows, looking stricken for a second. “Just in case.”

In case the mare doesn’t make it and the foal does, he means. Fuck . “I’m not going to town.”

“Where’re you going?”

“Ponderosa Falls,” Lux answers for me. I slide her a glare and her expression goes tight, shoulders rising with an exasperated shrug. “Jackson’s out with Yas, I need Theo to help me, and Adam is the only one with vet training.”

“But—”

An exasperated huff cuts me off—a blank expression and a tone that’s even worse lodge in my gut like a rock. “You can survive being trapped with me for an hour, princess. Get in the truck.”

My lips part, but nothing comes out, not even a breath. As Finn strides away, I watch him with wide eyes, and Lux does too. “What was that?”

I swallow. I lie, “I don’t know.”

“Did something happen with you two?”

At least that, I can answer honestly. “No.”

“Lot—”

“I’ll see you later,” I interrupt before she can ask any questions I don’t want to answer, I can’t really answer, and take off after the very man those questions would be about. “Good luck.”

“What’s wrong?” I ask no less than three times during the most uncomfortable journey of my life.

Well, once.

The second time, I croon, “Howdy, partner.”

The third, “What’s tuggin’ your lasso?” actually leaves my mouth.

I’m desperate. Uncomfortable. Not worthy of anything more than a muttered, thickly accented, “Nothin’.”

Slumped in the passenger seat with my elbow propped against the door frame, I stare out the rain-streaked windshield like the main character in a fucking depressing-ass movie, and I decide I really, really don’t like this. I’ve had enough of this.

BandAid, rip .

“Is this what it’s going to be like from now on? Because of something that didn't even happen?”

In my peripheral, long fingers flex and curl tightly around the steering wheel. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Bullshit. We’ve barely made eye contact since the other day.”

“And that’s my fault?”

Sucking a deep breath, I dare to glance aside, to meet a near-black gaze that hurriedly darts away. “Listen, it’s really not that big of a deal. You almost kissed me—”

“Oh, I almost kissed you ?”

“Exactly,” I agree, wondering if my cheeks are as red as they suddenly feel. “And I get it. I am stunningly attractive and you have a giant crush on me—”

A bitter laugh stains the truck’s interior.

“And if you squinted in a dark room, I might somehow resemble Carmen—”

“What’s your deal with Carmen?”

Yeah , an inner voice parrots. What is your deal with Carmen? “I don’t have a deal. I’m just teasing you. Keep up.”

“I’m trying.” That strong, sharp jaw ticks. “You don’t like when I talk to Carmen, and you don’t wanna kiss me. Is that it?”

“Don't remember saying that.”