“Ethan, I need your help.”
He turned. His sister, Harper, stood behind him, studying the newly sanded wall that had once been stained by water leaks. Her short, dark-brown hair framed her face and screamed no-nonsense, and her skin had already turned a warm, brown color from the sun. Those sea-green eyes were just as direct and startling as he remembered. Why did she get the Black Irish gene while he and Ophelia were stuck as gingers? She was tall like their father, hovering near six feet. The students had bullied her at school, calling her an ugly Amazon, and the girls formed a hate club, spending their days gleefully torturing her. He watched his once-joyous little sister slowly lose her zest for life, folding into herself until her only friends were the horses at the stables. His family had all tried to help, but everything they did backfired, pushing her further into her own world, where she was safe.
Now she was a powerhouse, leaving that once shy, isolated girl behind. But Ethan knew the past left permanent scars most couldn’t see.
She wore her usual outfit of old jeans, high riding boots, and a faded baby-blue T-shirt. Ethan bet she had one T-shirt and one pair of jeans for every day of the week. His sister was as low maintenance with her wardrobe as she was high maintenance with her causes.
“Hey, Harp. What’s up?”
“The place looks great. You’ve really turned the bungalow into a home these past few weeks.”
“Most of it was an easy fix. Now that I got the roof patched, the walls can get a new paint job.”
“It doesn’t smell anymore.”
He laughed. “Just some good old-fashioned elbow grease. Just like—”
“Mom used to say,” she finished, a rare smile curving her lips. Ethan poked at the wound, but time had finally lessened the sting of his mother’s absence. From his sister’s face, it looked like she felt the same way. His mother’s Irish blood had given them all a fierce loyalty to family, stoicism to get through hard times, and a deep love of land. He knew his mother had been hurt when he announced he needed to leave, but his sisters had risen to leadership and seemed to be happy about where their paths had led. He’d never thanked them, though. Never told them how he appreciated their support, allowing him the freedom to do something else without the guilt.
The accident dragged too many hard truths to the surface.
He was back to face them all.
In tune to his thought, his knee throbbed, and he shifted his weight to take some of the pressure off. Harper studied his face, her bright eyes assessing his condition in true sisterly style. “How’s the leg?” she asked.
“Better. What’d you need?” he asked, trying to direct her attention back to her original request.
She gestured to the now-shaggy facial hair that had little structure. “You ever gonna shave that beard?”
He ran a hand over his chin and shrugged. “Don’t know. It’s nice not to worry about what I look like.”
“You look scary, dude. Like one of those crazy Duck Dynasty guys.”
He grinned. “They’re kind of cool.”
She kept staring. “It’s been three weeks, and Ophelia said you rarely come to the main house. You’re bunked up back here alone like some crazy hermit.”
“Lots of work to do on the bungalow. Not in the mood for chatting with strangers. You avoid it all the time.”
She gave a suffering sigh. “I make my appearances when I have to. Play the good hostess. But that’s Ophelia’s territory. Plus, I go into town and talk to actual people other than Wheezy and Hei Hei.”
The Lab heard his name, picking up his head to give Harper a drooly, happy grin, then dropping his chin back onto the floor and snorting.
“Wheezy’s great company. I missed him. That chicken is another story.”
On cue, they both looked out the window at the black Polish chicken with a bunch of crazy feathers sticking out of his head. He clucked and clawed at the ground and seemed to have the run of the place.
“He was another rescue. When I found him this winter, his poor feathers were almost frozen because they never let him inside. He’s blossomed since he’s been here.”
“And did you have to name him after another Disney movie?” He groaned. “I feel like I’m living at Disney World.”
“Nothing wrong with Disney. Mom always taught us all problems can be solved or figured out by watching those movies. Stop trying to change the subject.”
“What subject?” he asked innocently.
“We’re worried, okay?”
He stiffened, hating the concern in her eyes and knowing why it was there. His voice softened. “I’m doing fine, Harp. Seriously. Just need some alone time to process shit.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
He jerked. His gut clenched. “Yep.”
Frustration shot off her figure. “Forget it—I know you don’t want to talk. But you’ll have to get over your solitary status for a little bit and help me out. I just found out I inherited a young girl who got mandated community service. She’s here for the summer to work.”
“Thought they assigned kids to clean up parks or pick up garbage on the highways?”
“Punishment has evolved. She’s a college student who got in trouble. Guess who heard her case?”
“Who?”
“Judge Bennett.”
He winced, shaking his head. “He’s still on the bench? He’s older than Wheezy.”
“I know. He’s still serving and living in that big old empty house in town, raining terror on college students. He’s big on making an example of bad behavior.”
“Why us?”
Harp lifted a brow. “Mom, of course. He used to send the troubled kids over to the horse farm to work off their community service. Mom got volunteers, and he got the joy of justice. Of course, I told him after Mom passed we didn’t need any extra volunteers, but he still throws us one occasionally. Guess he decided we’d be the lucky recipients of her horse expertise.”
“Oh, she knows about horses?”
Harper shot him a glare. “No. That’s my problem. This can be a nightmare, Ethan. Imagine a hormonal-ridden, snarky teen who knows nothing about running a horse-rescue farm or a bed-and-breakfast. I’m slammed and working overtime. I can’t deal with teaching her crap. You have to do it.”
He stared at her. “You’re kidding.”
“No. You’re in charge of her. Show her the ropes. Teach her how to take care of the horses—I don’t care. Give her jobs that will help, but keep her out of my hair.”
“Fuck no. Give her to Ophelia. She’d love getting an assistant at the inn.”
“Already talked to her. She runs a tight ship and just hired an extra cleaner she can’t lay off. Said she’ll throw her an occasional odd job, but she doesn’t want her underfoot.”
Ethan muttered a curse. “Why can’t we reassign her somewhere she’s actually needed?”
“Judge Bennett wanted her to have a place to stay since the dorms shut down for the summer. I guess her parents won’t allow her to have a place of her own and intend to keep her at the inn under a watchful eye. She must be a troublemaker. Another reason you need to be in charge. She’ll listen to you. You won’t put up with any bullshit.”
“Neither would you! Harp, I don’t think this is possible. I still have to finish up the bungalow, and then I have other stuff to do.”
She placed her hands on her hips. “Like what? Yes, you’ve helped me at the stables, but you still refuse to train the new horses or come with me to the auction. You avoid the inn. You rarely go into town and haven’t left this place since you arrived. Am I missing something?”
Ah, shit. He should’ve known Harper wouldn’t leave him alone, and now he’d be stuck with a spoiled kid who didn’t even want to be here. “What if I find her another place? Maybe I can ask around.”
“I couldn’t care less. Why don’t you appeal to Judge Bennett? He’s down at Bea’s Diner every morning for breakfast.”
“Fine. I’ll talk to him and see what we can work out.”
“Great. In the meantime, I’ll tell her she reports to you. They’ll be here this afternoon.”
Harper turned and headed toward the door.
“Wait—today? Who else is with her?” he demanded.
“I think her aunt since the last name is different. Mia. Girl is Chloe. They’ll be checking in, but you should at least introduce yourself. John could use another hand down at the stables, too.”
“You’re just full of happy advice, aren’t you?”
She shot him a false, cheeky grin. “That’s me. I just shit out happiness and rainbows.”
Then she was gone.
He smothered a groan, too aggravated to give in to her sense of humor. He walked into the small area he’d made into a half-functional kitchen and refilled his coffee mug, tempted to spike it with his favorite Irish whiskey. But that would be too easy. He’d learned to take his medicine without the spoonful of sugar, and he wasn’t about to go back now. Sipping the hot brew from a chipped red mug that screamed I’M HORSING AROUND!, he brooded about this latest mess on his hands. He’d come home for some damn peace and quiet—not to babysit. Hell, that was the reason he avoided the auction and training the new horses.
He couldn’t help anyone right now, human or animal. Best to avoid it all.
Tomorrow, he’d head to the diner and convince the judge to get the girl reassigned. Then he could get back to a peaceful, quiet existence for the rest of the summer while he figured out his future.
He slugged down the rest of the coffee and put the mug in the sink. “Come on, Wheezy, let’s take a stroll.”
The Lab’s bones creaked as he got up, but his tail did a mad dance of glee as he followed him down the back path. Hei Hei regarded both of them with fowl-like arrogance, then dismissed them with a shake of feathers. The thick woods muffled sounds and sun, wrapping him in a temporary peace he didn’t take for granted. He needed no markers to follow the dirt trail that sloped downward, twisted around various-size rocks, and suddenly ended at a tangle of brush.
Wheezy howled in excitement, knowing what came next, and bounded around the scary thorn bushes, following the secret trail hidden in plain sight.
Ethan followed the Lab’s lead and stepped out of the woods.
And gazed upon what he imagined heaven looked like.
The stables lay ahead of him in organized chaos. Endless acres of open green hills rolled ahead of him, dotted with white fences, the colors of various horses and hay piles like map markings. His gaze tracked the stretch of land that morphed into over fifty acres of trails and woods, then reached farther to finally stop in glory at the mighty thrust of the Shawangunk Mountains—commonly termed the Gunks—highlighted under an azure sky.
Ethan stared at the earthly colors and textures revealed in perfect glory. Shivers of memory raced down his spine, bringing him back to the years spent in this exact place, perched on his favorite rock, pondering his life. This was where his dreams and plans were laid out. Where hurts and heartbreaks were healed. Where the joy of childhood freedom and endless possibilities lay within the reach of trees and rock and mountain, with no one to judge him other than the horses and birds and creatures great and small.
For a few precious seconds, the ragged hole in his soul took a breath and sighed.
He moved forward, ready to greet what was ahead.
The sudden scream of bullets shot through the air, shattering the idyllic view, tearing away the peace. He staggered and went down fast, hands over his head, heart thundering like a pack of Thoroughbreds. Dirt and rocks scraped against his chest, and his breath strangled in his lungs.
“Don’t let me die.”
“I won’t. I swear to God I won’t let you die.”
His vision blurred. He fought hard for consciousness. For sanity. For—
The low whimper and touch of fur and wetness pressed against the side of his head. Still trying to gulp precious air to stay alive, it took him a while to register the wild lap of a tongue covering every part of his body. His sight cleared, and he slowly raised his head.
Wheezy met his gaze with delight, his brown eyes full of greeting and joy. He panted, covering his face with doggy kisses, and Ethan unfolded himself from the ground. The same sound ricocheted through the air, but this time, he recognized it as a nail gun, spotting a guy in the distance fixing up a fallen piece of wood from the barn.
Fuck.
He’d hoped his freak-outs were behind him, but it seemed they still lay in wait for the right time to jump out. Just like the monsters under the bed that had kept him up at night, courtesy of his love of Stephen King. He was unsuitable for the outside world. Better to keep his shit to himself and deal with it.
At least horses didn’t care how broken he was on the inside. At least he could make himself useful for a little while.
He stood up and brushed the dirt from his clothes. Ignoring the throb in his knee from his ground hit, Ethan walked into the stables.