Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Grace pauses a few feet from me, focused on Maggie with a quiet fascination. She moves like she knows that even her breath could spook the moment. I like that. I like her caution and her sensitivity.
“Talk to her?” she whispers.
I shake my head slowly.
“Not yet. Let her come to you.”
The mare paws at the dirt, snorts once, then edges cautiously and curiously toward us. Grace’s breath hitches, and my hand hovers low at my side, offering. Maggie stops, ears forward, curious now.
Grace watches, tense and wide-eyed. “She’s beautiful,” she murmurs.
“Terrified, too,” I answer. “That’s the thing about animals. They want a connection. They don’t always know if it’s safe.”
Her gaze drifts to me, expression thoughtful. “Same with people, huh?”
I give her a half-smile, twitching the corners of my mouth. “Some people.”
I think about Brody at the vote. How closed off he is. How my little brother is still carrying around the grief for our parents like a forcefield against love and pain.
The wind stirs the grass, carrying the sounds of distant cattle and the faint clatter of boots from the barn and the yard. I nod toward the pasture behind the paddock. “Come on. Let me show you something.”
She falls into step beside me easily. We pass the barn, Beau trotting next to us, tail wagging. “Stay, Beau,” I tell him firmly. He whines but listens, settling down in the hay for a rest. As we continue, I watch Grace from the corner of my eye. The sun throws long shadows across the dirt, catching her thoughtful expression in light and shadow. I wonder if she’s like the animals I can connect with so easily, whether she’ll open up to me if I’m quiet and calm enough. She’s supposed to be writing about us, but she has a story, too.
We reach a small clearing where the grass grows tall, and the wild rabbits sometimes come out to feed at dusk. I crouch low, motioning for her to do the same. Sure enough, one tiny rabbit is nibbling at the edge of the tall grass, its ears twitching nervously.
Grace lowers herself to the ground beside me, her knee brushing mine. “What now?”
“We watch.”
And she does it patiently. I study her instead of the rabbit. The soft concentration in her expression. The way the breeze lifts the fine strands of hair at her temple and makes them dance. I don’t know if she realizes how rare that is to know when to leave the silence be.
The rabbit edges close enough to sniff her outstretched fingers. Grace’s eyes go wide, lips parting a little like she can’t believe it’s happening. She stays perfectly still, barely breathing.
“See?” I murmur. “You’ve got a way with them.”
“A way?” she whispers.
“Yeah. You know how to slow down to make them feel safe.”
Her head turns toward me, eyes shining softly in the fading light. “I’ve never been good at that.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
A soft chuckle escapes her. “No. I run hard. I work hard. I push and pull and chase the next thing until I’m too tired to remember why I started. It’s the only pace I know.”
I study her profile, the slope of her nose, the gentle set of her mouth. There’s something fragile under all her sharp edges, something she tries to outrun.
“You’ve settled into this place better than I expected,” I murmur.
Her shoulders rise and fall. “It surprised me, too.”
Maggie nickers softly from across the fence line, and the rabbit darts away. Beau comes padding back, tongue lolling, before flopping onto the grass beside Grace and resting his big head on her lap.
I watch her fingers automatically stroke Beau’s silky ears, gentle and rhythmic.
“You listen better than most people do,” I say.
Grace glances up at me, serious now. “That’s the job, Nash. Observe. Blend. Stay detached.”
“You’re terrible at staying detached.”
Her smile flickers. “I know.”
The rabbit lingers in the long grass as the last rays of sunlight disappear, watching like it wants to join us but can’t find enough trust to venture forward. Brody’s the same: always watching, yearning, but never letting go of his demons enough to take what he wants. We sit there for a long time, neither of us in any hurry to break whatever this is.
The sky deepens into velvet blue, and stars prick through the darkness one by one. Crickets hum softly. The ranch feels farther away, like we’ve drifted into our own quiet corner of the world.
Grace lies back in the grass, arms folded behind her head, staring up at the sky. I follow her lead, settling beside her.
“Do you like it?” I ask softly. “Your busy life?”
She’s quiet for a while. “I thought I did. The deadlines, the control, the… noise. It made me feel like I was moving forward, like I was accomplishing something. I used to want to write novels, but I could never sit still for long enough…” She turns her head toward me. “But now I’m not sure I even know where I’m going.”