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“You are an angel,” Grady declared.
I gave Kinsley a tight-lipped smile of thanks. I hadn’t even thought about what we would eat once we got here.
I parked the truck in front of the barn, and we all got out, stretching our limbs after the long drive.
The interior of the barn was damp and musty. Light filtered in through the holes in the roof, casting beams that illuminated the floating dust particles in the air. Peeking into the stalls, I sighed with relief to find them free of old manure, containing only straw and dust.
Grabbing a pitchfork off the wall, I stirred up the bedding, coughing as clouds of dirt assaulted my nose. “It’ll have to do for tonight. We’ll keep the door open and get the fence fixed tomorrow so the horses don’t have to breathe this for too long,” I said.
“I’ll get a couple of bales from the truck,” Finn said. “At least there’s some decent grazing around here now.”
Once Gambler, Cher, and Ghost were settled and munching on the fresh hay, we went to explore the house.
I retrieved the key from its usual hiding spot and unlocked the door. It wasn’t until I took that first step that it really hit me. I was home. It hadn’t been that long since the last time I was here, but somehow it felt like a lifetime. I honestly thought I would never see it again.
I looked around at the stillness of the house and frowned. Memories came flooding back. Most weren’t good, yet I still had this unexplainable attachment to this place. With everything that had happened here, why had I wanted to come back so badly? I should’ve run from here the first chance I got, away from my dad and all his shit. But I didn’t.
I wanted this place to be mine. And for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why.
The interior was exactly as I remembered, only layered with dust. I had braced myself for filth—dirty dishes in the sink, old food remnants—but surprisingly, there was none of that. It was … tidy.
Opening the fridge and expecting the worst, I found it empty—a small mercy. “Sorry Grady. Nothing here for you,” I announced.
“Darn, sour milk is my favourite,” Grady joked.
He and Kinsley wandered around, their curiosity leading them through each room, while Finn stood inside the door, absorbing the scene with a sombre expression.
“This feels weird,” Finn said. “Why does this feel weird?”
“I don’t know. I’m feeling it too.”
“Oh my gawd, is this you?” Kinsley’s squeal drew me to her side.
I wrapped my arms around her waist and rested my chin on the top of her head. She was pointing to a picture on the wall. It was a photo of me as a child, sitting on a little fat grey pony, a big smile plastered on my face, while my dad stood next to me, holding the pony’s lead and looking proud.
“Yeah, that’s me.” I didn’t even know who’d taken the time to frame these pictures and hang them on the wall. I’d never thought about it before.
“You were the most adorable little cowboy!” Kinsley exclaimed.
“Oh, come on,” Finn interjected, joining us. “That one is way cuter.” He pointed to a photo next to it.
It captured a moment from our youth, me and him around twelve years old, at a rodeo, proudly showing off the buckles we had won. That was after my mom had left. My dad must’ve hung that one up, which was surprising.
“If you’re into geeky beanpoles,” I teased.
“What are you talking about? I was a handsome little devil,” Finn retorted.
I rolled my eyes. “Let’s figure out where we’re sleeping.” Dust-covered beds weren’t all that appealing.
“I vote for the tents,” Finn suggested.
“Agreed,” we all answered.
Chapter 29
Stay - Sugarland
Kinsley
