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I'd switched to water about an hour before Addie finally caved, which was good timing on my part. Tracy, a waitress I’ve hooked up with on and off the last few months, started hovering. By closing time, I'd probably have made a decision I'd regret. Water was the right call. Water and getting the hell out of there before my judgment got any worse. Addie already thinks I’m going to whore my way through the circuit, so starting it off by going home with Tracy wouldn’t have been a good move.

Eight weeks. Me, Addie, and a horse with a bad attitude.

If I keep my dick in my pants, everything will be fine.

I don’t know why the fuck I care what Addie thinks. I’ve known her since she wore braces and followed Eli and me around like we were the coolest people she knew. Maybe that’s it— she no longer thinks we’re that cool. Or maybe it’s the way she fills out her jeans, or the way her eyes glisten when she thinks I’m full of shit. Or the way that tank top she wore tonight under her flannel shirt dipped just low enough for me to—

Nope! Don’t go there, dumbass. She's Eli's sister. Who cares if that sassy mouth of hers makes me wonder what else she can do with it. Yeah, that’s totally irrelevant.

Eli is the closest thing to family I've got left. He’s pulled me out of more shit than I can count, so if he ever found out I spent even five seconds thinking about his little sister like that, he would lay me out flat in the dirt.

So, off limits. Hard stop. There’s a line, and for once, I’m not crossing it.

But damn if I can’t stop thinking about the way she left tonight. She didn't even say goodbye. Just looked at me and said, “Stay the fuck out of my way, Walker,” and walked out. I’m not sure if that’s the hottest thing I've seen or the scariest.

She's going to be a nightmare on the road. Organized, intense, up before dawn running Dusty through patterns while I'm still trying to find the coffee. Then she’ll want to debrief every run, map every route, and probably color-code something. She’ll be relentless about it. Because Addie is relentless, dedicated, and driven in everything she does.

I'm almost to my truck when the bar door swings open behind me.

"Hey — Chace. Hold up." Eli's voice cuts across the lot. He falls into step beside me, hands shoved in his front pockets, looking out at the horizon like he’s trying to choose his words carefully. "You still good to haul the colt up to Merritt on Thursday?"

"Yeah. No problem."

"Awesome." He nods, quiet for a second. "And you're good? With the rest of this? The circuit, Addie, the whole thing?"

"I agreed to it, man."

"I'm just asking."

"I said I'm cool." I lean against the bed of my truck and cross my arms. "I know what this is. I know what it means for the ranch, what it means for Hazel's program. I'm not going to blow it up."

"I'm not worried about the ranch." He looks at me sideways. "I'm asking if you're good."

I give him my signature grin. The easy one that says I don’t care about anything but a good time. "Brother, I am always good."

He doesn't look entirely convinced, but he lets it go, which is one of the things I've always counted on with Eli — he knows when to push and when to leave something alone. "Don't piss her off too bad."

"I can’t make those kinds of promises. She’s too easy a target."

"I know she’s a lot to handle." He pauses. "She needs this summer, Chace. Really needs it. She's been working toward this for years, and she doesn't ask for help. She won't ask for help, so just — be useful. Be the guy I know you actually are."

That last bit hits harder than I care to admit. "I'll keep her safe," I say. "Keep Dusty healthy, keep the truck out of ditches, make sure she eats something that isn't gas station jerky. Scout's honor."

Eli snorts. "You were never a scout."

"It’s the spirit of the thing."

He's quiet again for a beat. Then, "Are you stopping to see your Nan before you head to Billings?"

"Just to check in. Let her know I won’t be around for a couple of months." Not that she will notice or recognize me. I don’t say that last part out loud.

Eli’s expression shifts slightly, almost like he can sense I’m keeping something from him, and he wants to ask, but instead says, “How is she, anyway? You haven’t talked about her much since she went to stay at Mountainview Manor.”

Mountainview Manor is the home I was forced to put my Nana into a year ago, when her care was too much for me to manage on my own, and I was running out of money to pay someone to help. She insisted that it was for the best. Encouraged me to sell her house and start over fresh.

Turns out, long-term care facilities are expensive when you have no money and no real job, so it took what little I had and the sale of the house to pay for her care along with my own medical bills. I had about 10k left when everything was said and done. I’ve been living off that and my small salary from the Dawson Ranch ever since.

"She's okay." I intentionally keep my tone casual. A tone that doesn't invite follow-up. "You know how it is. Good days and bad days."