Page 89 of Josephine and Clay

I don’t look at him.

Josie doesn’t either.

“Met,” I say.

“Once,” she says at the same time.

We both stop.

That lands about as well as you’d expect.

Boone’s gaze moves between us slowly, cataloging something he doesn’t have all the pieces for yet. “Right…”

That’s all he says, but it’s enough to tell me he knows this is weird, which means I'm definitely not pulling this off.

I shift my weight, adjusting on the crutches, and immediately regret it when pain shoots up my leg. I try not to react. I fail a little.

Josie notices.

Her eyes drop to the cast, then back to my face, something sharper flickering there. “You didn’t mention that.”

“Wasn’t exactly the highlight I wanted to lead with,” I mutter.

Her lips press together, deciding whether to say something else. She doesn’t.

Boone clears his throat. “Calf needs moving into the smaller pen. Shade’s better there.”

Right.

Work.

Good.

Work is simple. Work doesn’t involve figuring out why Josie Wright is suddenly standing on my family’s land pretending she belongs here more than I do.

“Yeah,” I say quickly. “I got it.”

Boone looks at me. “You sure about that?”

“I can stand and hold a rope, Boone,” I snap.

Josie’s gaze flicks between us.

Boone doesn’t rise to it. He just hands me the lead rope, giving me exactly enough responsibility to keep me from being useless without letting me wreck anything important.

“Stand here,” he says, nodding toward the side of the pen. “Keep her steady while Josie guides the calf.”

I take the rope. This should be easy. This is easy. I’ve handled worse with one hand and half a brain after a long night and no sleep. Except now I’ve got one working leg, a body that doesn’t feel mine anymore, and Josie standing three feet away pretending this isn’t weird.

Which makes it worse.

Way worse.

She moves first, slipping into the pen with quiet confidence, all focus now. The shift in her is immediate. Whatever awkward tension was there gets packed away and replaced with something precise, controlled, and competent.

It hits me all over again that I don’t know her.

Not really.