Page 22 of Love Me Fearless

“How long?” I ask before I can snatch the words back.

Something flickers in his gaze, but it’s gone just as fast. “Until she gets back on her feet.”

“Good,” I say with a nod. Louisa boards horses and runs a small but busy flower farm. A couple of her older 4H kids help out, but someone needs to steer the ship. Thea is in the final months of university, consumed with finals and auditions. Beth could learn to run things, with guidance. Maybe that’s Hutch’s plan. Because I know he’s not staying indefinitely.

Hutch’s lips tense. “You doing okay?”

The question throws me, but I force a smile. “Yeah.”

He swallows hard. “Okay.”

The elevator doors open and Dr. Shelby and two other providers step out.

In the moment Hutch is distracted, I slip into the stairway.

Safe.For now.

But I won’t be able to avoid Hutch for long. Finn River is a small town. And our friends will want to get together. They’ll want to help him and Louisa. I know I do.

So I’ll just have to fake that seeing him isn’t breaking me all over again.

Chapter Six

“Not to worry,”I tell our cranky neighbor, Mr. Feeny. “We’ll take care of it.”

“Give Louisa my regards,” he replies before hanging up.

I pull on my Stetson and step into my chore boots, then hurry out the door. The snow from this morning is melting fast, creating the kind of thick, sticky mud that acts like glue.

I feel very far away from Florida right now. And it’s not just the weather.

Seeing my strong, hardworking mom in a hospital bed, knowing that she’s suffering was bad enough, but seeing Ava again…

After grabbing a halter and lead from the barn, I continue past the greenhouse to the gate then jog across the road to Mr. Feeny’s orchards, where one of Mom’s boarders is busy strip mining a row of apple tree seedlings.

The Appaloosa lifts his head, his big jaws working a mouthful of greens. If he’s surprised to see me, his big, docile eyes don’t show it.

“Okay, big guy,” I say, stroking his strong neck. “Snack time’s over. Let’s go home.”

He lets me slip the halter on, and with a click of my tongue and aslight tug on the lead rope, he turns from the row of eviscerated baby apple trees. I promised Mr. Feeny I would replace them, and I will.

First, I need to get my bearings.

After leading Caspar across the road and back into his paddock, I double check the gate so he can’t get loose again, then start the long list of chores. Mom’s black Labrador, Toby, accompanies me like a shadow, his tail wagging. Together we feed Mom’s horses and the six “guest” horses plus the rest of the animals, collect the eggs, and muck the barn. I’m just heading into the greenhouse when my sister Beth pulls up in the compact silver Honda I helped her buy two years ago, her blasting rock music going silent with the engine when she stops next to Mom’s truck.

She takes one look at me, then jumps out, dressed in a short jeans skirt with a ragged hem, teal cowboy boots, and a shirt that could be a bandana—or wait, is it? Her light brown hair is tied back in a high ponytail, with loose tendrils framing her face, and her eyelashes are thick and dark, making her look much older than nineteen.

“It’s forty degrees,” I say. “Where’s your coat?” What I really want to say iswhere’s the rest of your skirtbut it might be better to work up to that.

She lifts the bag of groceries from the trunk and gives me a subtle arch of her brow. “Look who’s gotten soft. Forty’s downright balmy.”

She marches past me to the house.

Do I detect a sassy sway in her hips as she climbs the porch steps?

A headache starts tapping at the base of my skull. I continue to the greenhouse, but inside I’m surprised to find a long row of plywood boxes dedicated to chick-rearing complete with heat lamps. The blast of cold air from outside and my heavy steps wakes the chicks, little brown and yellow fluffballs, who start peeping and darting around.

Good grief. There must be a hundred of them.

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