My gaze traced the letters of her name, running silently over each line and curve. Eastbridge Ave wasn’t that far from here. Just on the other side of town. That couldn’t be right.
You sure? I typed back.
Wouldn’t have told you if I wasn’t.
“Dom!”
I snapped my head up at my father’s shout and guiltily shoved my phone back in my pocket. “Yeah? What’s up?”
“You just gonna stand there texting your girlfriends or do you want to come and actually do some work? You know that thing I pay you to do?”
I jogged across the yard to our barn where Dad had lined up buckets of feed for the animals. I got busy scooping pellets from a bag and distributing it evenly, just like I’d done a million other times over the years. “Sorry,” I muttered, feeling like a naughty kid who’d tried to shirk his responsibilities. “Won’t happen again.”
My dad shot a glance at me. “Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost? It wasn’t that big a deal. I’m just bustin’ your balls. This place will be yours soon enough, and then you can set whatever hours you want. You’re almost never late, anyway.”
I nodded distractedly. I could only remember a handful of times, ever, that I’d been even two minutes late for work. It wasn’t in my nature. My dad expected me to be here at six each morning, so I was here at five ‘til. Unlike my two younger brothers, who were still probably in bed and would roll up for work at whatever time they deemed it worthy.
Ah, to be a selfish teenager. It must have been nice.
Like I could talk. I shot another glance at my father, and my chest panged with what I’d done. I was just as selfish as my brothers. In a much worse way. Nobody’s life would change dramatically if they were thirty minutes late to work every second day.
But what I’d done could change everything. Not just for me, but for my parents…and for the woman I didn’t know, but whose address now burned a hole in my phone.
Maria Kaur. 44 Eastbridge Ave.
Was Kaur a married name? Or would that have been my surname if she’d decided to keep me? Pain ricocheted through my chest, until I realized my dad was staring at me, waiting for me to say something.
“Sorry, what?” I tried to focus on him.
“I was just saying I talked to Frost last night.”
“Summer’s dad? How is she?” I was suddenly a whole lot more interested than I had been a minute ago. Like a man dying in the desert, I lapped up information about Summer Hunt as if it were water.
I always had. I hadn’t heard from her in almost a year, not since the night of her accident, but it hadn’t stopped me thinking about her. Constantly. Even though that wasn’t my right.
Dad picked up a handful of feed, letting it run through his fingers and back into the bucket. “Physically? She’s not riding anymore. I know that much. Sounds like she’s given up trying. She’s moving to the city.”
I dropped my shovel, cringing as it clattered to the ground. “You’re kidding? She was talking about it last time I was out there, but it’s been over a year. I just assumed she’d changed her mind.” And by changed her mind, I meant come to her senses. Summer Hunt was as country as I was. I couldn’t picture her living in a city any more than I could picture myself renting an apartment in New York and suddenly wearing suits instead of jeans.
I shuddered at the thought of a stuffy, white, button-down shirt and an ugly patterned tie that would choke me.
Dad picked up my shovel and handed it back to me. “Apparently not. Frost is cut up about it. Disappointed she won’t make the pros now but stressed out of his head about finding someone to take her job, too. His other daughters aren’t interested. Neither of them ride.”
“She’s always done a lot out there. Big shoes to fill.”
Dad and I both went back to work in companionable silence, distributing feed buckets to each of our bulls, and I used the manual work to push Summer and her future plans out of my head. Like I’d had to do so many other times, I reminded myself she wasn’t my concern. She’d made that pretty clear with her radio silence.
It was better if I just concentrated on my own fuckin’ business. And my