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“You know that’s not what I meant!”
Angry, I retreated to my bed. Abby, with a quiet huff, gathered blankets from a cupboard and began making a makeshift bed on the couch.
The trailer was quiet except for the occasional shift of fabric or sigh.
Abby broke the silence, her voice low but clear. “I’ve started seeing someone.”
Surprised, I rolled over to face her, my interest piqued. “Oh? Who’s the lucky guy?”
She hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features, before she replied, “Evan Morris.”
The name hit me like a cold splash of water. Memories of high school flooded back. He was popular, handsome, and knew it, flirting his way through parties, always surrounded by admirers. He was the type who never took anything seriously, including the string of girls at his side. I remembered him hitting on me a few times at parties, always with that confident smirk, assuming I’d be another notch on his belt. I had never been interested; his type had never appealed to me.
“Evan Morris?” I tried to keep my voice neutral despite the whirlwind of thoughts. “From high school?”
Abby nodded. She sat up with a slight defensiveness in her posture as if bracing for judgement. “Yes, that Evan.”
I processed this, trying to imagine the Evan I remembered with my quiet, reserved sister. Abby had always been the antithesis of guys like Evan—loud, outgoing, and always surrounded by a crowd. She preferred to keep to herself and her horses, staying clear of the drama that followed Evan and his friends. It baffled me why Evan would even pursue Abby. Of course, Abby was beautiful—any guy would see that—but their personalities were so different.
I couldn’t believe I had, even jokingly, entertained the notion of Grady and Abby, which was even more ludicrous if that was possible. Grady, with his wild rodeo lifestyle and his easy charm, represented everything Abby stayed away from. The rodeo circuit, the late nights, the constant travel—none of it was her. Abby had never shown the slightest interest in rodeo or the cowboys who came with it. And Evan, well… That didn’t seem to be the right direction either. I saw her with someone more reserved. Someone serious but kind.
“That’s ... interesting,” I managed, choosing my words carefully, but I knew as soon as the words left my mouth that I had chosen wrong. “I hope he’s good to you, Abby,” I offered.
Abby bristled, her voice tightening. “He is. But you wouldn’t understand, would you? You wouldn’t know a healthy relationship if it smacked you in the face.”
I recoiled. “What the fuck, Abby?” My patience with my sister was wearing thin.
Abby’s expression hardened. “He’s a lawyer now, Kinsley. People change. Or is that concept too foreign for you, given your endless dance with Wyatt?”
Her words stung. “Abby, that’s not fair. Things are complicated with Wyatt—”
“Complicated?” She scoffed. “Is that what you call it when you spend the entire night clinging to each other? Seems pretty straightforward to me.”
“It’s not like that with Wyatt. We’re friends and—"
“Friends?” Abby interrupted, her voice rising with incredulity. “So, the way you two flirted with each other tonight, that’s how ‘friends’ act? Please, Kinsley, who are you trying to fool?”
The accusation hit hard, forcing me to confront the blurred lines between Wyatt and me. “It’s not the same, Abby. Evan—”
“With Evan, I’m happy,” she cut in, her voice firm. “Can you say the same about you and Wyatt? Off again, on again. It’s exhausting, Kinsley.” The roll of her eyes was pointed and patronising.
I felt a flush of anger at her words, a fire that pushed back against her judgement. “At least I’m not pretending to be someone I’m not. Unlike some people who date guys because they tick all the ‘perfect’ boxes.”
Her comeback was swift but with a sharper edge. “You think Wyatt is box-free? Let’s see… Bad boy cowboy? Check. Perpetually broke? Check. Oh, and let’s not forget the charming habit of disappearing when things get tough. Check. Anything else you’d like to add to the list?”
“That’s low,” I shot back. “I’m trying to be supportive here, but you’re making it really hard.”
“Supportive? This from the sister who’s always in the spotlight and leaves no room for anyone else? Maybe I wanted something different, Kinsley. Maybe Evan’s exactly what I need.”
The implication that I was somehow the cause of her choices, her retreat into the shadows, ignited a fresh wave of frustration within me. “Or maybe you’re scared, Abby. Scared to really live, so you choose the safest option. Evan Morris might look good on paper, but is he what you want, or is he just another part of the ‘perfect life’ façade?”
“You think you’re so brave because you ride fast horses and have a chaotic love life? At least I’m trying to find real happiness, not just the thrill of the next ride or the next argument with Wyatt.”
The trailer felt small, a pressure cooker set to explode. “Real happiness?” I challenged. “By always playing it safe?”
“We’re not talking about me anymore,” Abby snapped, her voice tight. “We’re talking about you and Wyatt. How many times will you go back to him before you realize it’s not going to work?”
Her words struck deep. I lay back on the bed, staring at the trailer’s ceiling, the weight of her accusation settling heavily on my chest.
