“Watch me, Izzie!” April calls from the corral. She’s perched on Misty’s sleek back, all smiles, wearing her new riding boots and helmet, both compliments of Jodi the Horse Lady. Jodi walks closely alongside her, making sure she’s secure in case Misty gets spooked by a chicken or something random as they slowly circle the corral.
“I’m watching,” I call back from the open barn, where I’m sweeping the aisle with a push broom and trying not to pass out from the midday heat. The other horses doze in their stalls on either side of me, only perking up to snort at me as I pass. A giant white horse with brown spots stamps its feet at me as I clean up piles of shavings and straw in front of his stall.
As far as punishments go, I guess it could be worse. Instead of cleaning horse equipment and sweeping the barn, Jodi could have asked me to sift through stalls for manure.
I peer outside again, watching as she repositions April on the saddle. I can see why my father might be attracted to her, or at least flattered by her interest in him. Mom was pretty too, with her carefully applied makeup and jewelry, but Jodi is beautiful in a natural, effortless way. She’s probably the type whose morning beauty routine is throwing her hair in a braid and splashing cold water on her face.
A stab of pain shoots through my right hand, distracting me. In the dim light of the barn, I see a long sliver of wood sticking out of my palm. I rest the broom’s stupid splintery handle against the wall and try to dig out the sliver with my fingernails.
“Looking fierce up there, Sunshine.”
I lift my head again and see my father, smiling as he approaches the corral. April gives him a quick wave and grins even wider. Jodi does the same, even though he’s a sweaty mess with his clothes covered in wood dust and his arms and hands smeared with dirt. She doesn’t seem to mind.
Dad’s gaze bounces to me as I exit the barn, still nursing my stinging palm. “How’s it going?” he asks, resting his arms on top of the fence.
He’s clearly talking to me, but Jodi answers. “She’s been a big help today. She spent the morning polishing tack, and now she’s dealing with the mess Cyclone made in there.”
I assume Cyclone is the brown-spotted horse. Fitting.
“Good.” He grips the fence and leans back. “Well, I just wanted to stop by to see how everyone was coming along. You can take April back to the cabin after you’re finished, Isobel. I’m sure Jodi has other things to do today.”
Jodi guides the horse to a stop near where my father is standing. “No, not really. I mean, when I’m not in my office, you’ll usually find me here.”
I examine their body language for some kind of clue. Had something already happened between them? Would it be obvious? Like, if someone looked at Dane and me, would they be able to tell that something happened between us the other night?
My heat-cooked body grows even warmer as memories of the guard tower flood through me. I’m so sidetracked, I almost miss seeing April dismounting the horse and wrapping her arms around Jodi, hugging her like she does after every ride. I avert my eyes, focusing on my splinter again. I’m glad April gets along so well here, but that doesn’t mean I like watching her bond with Jodi.
“I can’t believe how fast she’s taken to riding,” Jodi says as she opens the gate for April. “Just let me know if you ever want a turn up there, Izzie.”
“It’s Isobel,” I correct her, my tone icy. Dad shoots me a look as Jodi’s smile slips a couple of notches.
“Can I come back tomorrow?” April asks as she takes off her helmet.
“Of course,” Jodi says before turning to my father. “Don’t forget about the party Thursday night, okay?”
April’s face lights up. “We’re having a party?”
Jodi’s grin goes full force again. “The second Thursday of every month, Russell throws a wine and cheese party in the gazebo for members. I was telling your dad about it the other day. It’s always a fun night.”
A wine and cheese party? How bougie. If Jodi knew my father at all, she’d realize that he’s more of a beer-and-nuts-at-home kind of guy. No way will he agree to sip wine and nibble cheese in the gazebo.
“We’ll be there,” he says.
His response feels like a gut punch. Maybe I’m the one who doesn’t know him at all.
Dad and April head to the store after dinner, so I’m alone in the cabin when Dane knocks on the screen door.
“You want to go for a walk?” he asks. “I found a spot the other day that I wanted to show you.”
My heart skips. I saw him earlier today on the way back from the barn, but April was with me and I smelled like horses and leather polish, so all we did was wave. Only in the evenings can we truly be alone, and even then, time is limited. Dad is fine with me spending time with Dane—he thinks he’s a “good kid”—but that doesn’t mean he approves of me wandering around in the dark with him at all hours.
I meet Dane’s eyes again. His dark gaze burns into mine.
“Sure,” I say, grabbing my flip-flops.
“You should probably wear sneakers.”
I raise one brow, intrigued, but he just smiles enigmatically.
Five minutes later, he’s leading me past the log homes to the entrance of a hiking trail I haven’t seen before. Probably because, unlike the other trails, there’s no gravel or well-trampled dirt to mark the pathway. This one is narrow and untamed; the only thing that gives it away as a walkable trail is a slight gap in the vegetation.
A few minutes later, I’m grateful to be wearing my pink Vans and not my flip-flops. The ground is uneven and occasionally swampy, dotted with thorny bushes that make me wish I wore pants too.
“You okay?” Dane asks, glancing back at me. He, of course, is as sure-footed in here as the wildlife that’s surely lurking in the trees.
I duck as something the size of a golf ball buzzes past my face. “Yep.”
After walking for what feels like ages—though it’s probably been about fifteen minutes—I hear the distinct sound of rushing water to our right. A few minutes later, the trail curves toward a narrow, bubbling stream snaking through the woods. We follow it for a few yards, then step out into a rocky clearing. A blanket of cold mist coats my face and I gasp. The stream we’ve been following has expanded into a small pool of water that looks like it was scooped out of the earth. Above it, rivulets of water trickle off an outcrop of rocks and into the pool below.
“I came across it the other day when I was in here looking for fiddleheads,” Dane says over the sound of the rippling water. “The heat was killing me, so I jumped in there to cool off. It’s too shallow for swimming, but the water’s nice and clean.” He grins at me, backing away. “What do you think? You want to try it? Don’t worry, I made sure it’s safe.”
My gaze shifts to the clear, inviting water. The live-in-the-moment part of me that I thought was dead and buried suddenly pokes its head up again at Dane’s hopeful face.
“I guess I’ll have to trust you.”
He grins and pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it on one of the larger rocks. For a moment, I’m sidetracked by the sight of his bare skin, smooth and toned and bronzed even deeper by the sun. I’ve seen him shirtless since we’ve been here, but never this close up, and not since our relationship progressed to kissing. It takes me a few seconds to tear my eyes away so I can untie my Vans.
I’m too self-conscious to take off anything more than my shoes, so I step up to the pool in my shorts and tank top. When the water hits my skin, I stifle a squeal. It’s a lot colder than I anticipated.
“You get used to it,” Dane assures me from the middle of the pool, which only comes up to his waist. As I slowly wade out to him, he falls backward, dunking himself under the water. “You just need to do that,” he adds when he surfaces again, rubbing a hand over his face.
“No, thanks.” I continue toward him, my arms crossed over my chest.
“I miss swimming. This is the first summer in years that I haven’t gone to the pool even once. Kind of makes it hard to practice for swim team tryouts in the fall.”
“Aren’t you homeschooled?” I ask, stopping in front of him.
He laughs. “Homeschooled kids do sports too. Not all teams are school-based.”
“I’ve never joined a team in my life, so I wouldn’t know. My best friend Claire is a jock though. She’s into soccer.”
“And what are you into?”
My gaze travels down his arm to his hand, resting just under the water. “I make jewelry,” I say, uncrossing my arms to touch the hemp bracelet on his wrist.
“Really?” Dane says, capturing my hand in his. “How did I not know this about you?”
I shrug. “You never asked.”
He detangles his fingers from mine and places his hands on my waist, his thumbs brushing the exposed skin above my shorts. His hands feel warm despite the numbing chill of the water. As he leans in to kiss me, I try not to think about the fact that this is all temporary. That maybe I shouldn’t be getting close to a boy who I may never see again. I try not to think about anything but the warmth of his mouth and the feel of his hair between my fingers, and how being with him is the only thing that makes me forget where I really am. Like the other night in the guard tower, here doesn’t feel like part of the ranch. Here is a private little oasis, created especially for us.
“Damn,” Dane mumbles when our lips detach several minutes later. “I wish I wasn’t leaving on Friday.”
I pull back. “What?”
He raises his eyebrows. “Well, yeah. We can’t stay at the ranch forever. I mean, unless there’s a declared emergency. You knew that, right?”
I fold my arms over my chest, suddenly cold again, and start wading toward the edge of the pool. The sun has disappeared behind the canopy of trees, cloaking our little oasis in shadows. “We should probably leave before it gets too dark to find the path.”
“Oh,” he says, and I can hear his disappointment. “Is everything okay?”
I don’t want to tell him I don’t want him to leave. Or that he’s the only part of this place that feels anything close to normal. So instead, I say, “My father will probably send out a search party if we don’t get back soon.”
“Right.”
Once we’re back on the rocks, I try to keep the conversation going. “Where will you go next?”
“Not far. We’re parking the Winnebago at this campground about thirty miles down the road and staying there until we find a place to live. Don’t worry,” he adds, flashing me a grin as he slips his shirt back on. “I plan to come back here every day to visit. I’ll have the car.”
“I’m not worried, I—” Lost for words, I lean over to tie my Vans, not wanting him to see how much I dread the thought of being here without him. “I guess I assumed you were sticking around a little longer.”
“Hey,” he said, nudging me, “I wish I was.” We start walking, falling into step beside each other even though the path is really only wide enough for one. “I heard my moms talking the other night. They said your dad has an open-ended invitation to stay here.”
“Because of the shelter construction,” I say.
“And because Russell likes him. He’s exactly the type of person they want at this place.”
“What type is that?”
He pushes aside a tree branch so it doesn’t whip against our faces. “Smart, logical, level-headed…you know, the opposite of Nick.”
I snort. So it’s not just me who noticed Russell’s apathy toward the ranch’s resident hothead. “Nick’s a member, though, and my father is not.”
“True,” he says, taking my hand as I navigate past a muddy patch. “But I bet Russell has been putting pressure on him to join. I mean, he needs people like your father to give the ranch purpose and keep it running. This place might be a survival community, but it’s also—”
“A business,” I finish for him. “I get it.”
He nods. “And your dad’s skills are good for business.”