Everything About Us

The world ended on a Tuesday.

At least, that’s what it felt like to me. One moment, I was rolling my eyes at my mom because she’d forgotten to grab milk on her way home from work again, and the next... I was sitting in a hospital waiting room with my aunt’s hand crushing mine, listening to a doctor say words that didn’t make sense.Accident. Gone. Nothing they could do.

And just like that, everything that made sense, everything that felt solid, was gone.

The days after blurred together. Neighbours I barely knew showed up with casseroles I didn’t eat. People at school whispered when I walked down the hall, as if my grief might rub off on them if they got too close. My best friend texted me every morning, but I never answered. What was there to say?I’m finewas a lie.I’m not finefelt pathetic.

I stopped opening my bedroom curtains. I stopped listening to music. I stopped... everything.

Then one morning my aunt sat me down at the kitchen table (the table where my parents used to drink coffee every morning) and said, “You can’t stay here, Elena. Not alone. Your mom’s friend, Grace Harper, offered to take you in. Do you remember her?”

I didn’t.

But that didn’t matter. My choice wasn’t really a choice. And that’s how, two weeks later, I ended up with my life shoved into two suitcases, riding in the passenger seat of my aunt’s car, watching the city disappear in the rear-view mirror.

The drive to the Harpers’ house felt endless. First, the city buildings gave way to highways, then the highways thinned into long, lonely stretches of road, then into endless fields. Flat land, green and gold, stretching so far it felt like the earth itself might just fall away at the edges.

I pressed my forehead to the glass and tried not to think about home. About how my dad always sang off-key when we were in the car, how my mom would laugh and threaten to throw him out on the side of the road. My throat burned, and I forced myself to swallow it down.

When we finally turned down a gravel driveway, I sat up straighter. The farmhouse appeared at the end of the lane like something out of an old movie, two stories tall, white paint a little weathered, with a wide porch wrapped all the way around. A swing swayed lazily in the breeze. Beyond the house were barns and fields glowing in the late-afternoon sun.

It was beautiful. And it made my stomach twist, because nothing about it was mine.

The car rolled to a stop, and before I could even breathe, the front door swung open. People spilled out onto the porch like they’d been waiting just for me. A tall boy with messy brown hair jogged down the steps, two at a time. Another boy, quieter, slower, followed. A girl about my age leaned against the railing with her arms crossed, watching me like I was a science experiment. And in the doorway, a woman waved, her smile warm but tired.

“That’s them,” my aunt said softly. “The Harpers.”

My hand tightened around the handle of my suitcase. My heart pounded so loud I was sure they could all hear it.

Grace Harper reached me first. She wrapped me in a hug before I could protest, smelling like flour and lavender soap. “We’re so glad you’re here, sweetheart,” she said, her voice thick with kindness that made my throat ache.

Before I could answer, the boy with messy hair grinned and stuck out his hand like he thought we were at a school dance. “I’m Noah,” he said. “Welcome to the madhouse.”

His smile was easy, practiced, the kind that could probably charm teachers into forgetting assignments. Something about him screamed trouble, and I hated that my stomach did a little flip anyway.

The other boy stepped forward then. He looked a lot like Noah—same sharp jawline, same height, but where Noah’s energy filled the space, his felt... smaller, quieter. His dark hair fell into his eyes, and when he finally met my gaze, I felt pinned, like he saw more than I wanted him to. “I’m Liam,” he said simply. No smile. Just a nod.

I nodded back, hugging my suitcase to my chest like a shield.

And in that moment, standing on the porch of a strange farmhouse with two brothers staring at me like I was a puzzle they wanted to solve, I realized something terrifying:

These people were going to change everything.

Even if I wasn’t ready for it.

Grace ushered me inside like she’d been waiting for this moment all day. The porch gave way to a wide entry hall with hardwood floors that creaked under my sneakers. The air smelled faintly of cinnamon and something savory drifting from the kitchen.

“This is your new home,” Grace said warmly, giving my arm a squeeze. “It’s not fancy, but it’s full of love.”

I nodded, because what else was I supposed to do? Saythanks, but I’d rather be anywhere else?

Noah grabbed my suitcase before I could stop him. “I’ll carry this up for you,” he said, flashing me a grin that made it seem like carrying luggage was some kind of heroic act.

“I’ve got it,” I mumbled, tugging on the handle, but he held on.

“You’re a guest. Guests don’t lug suitcases around here. That’s my job.” He winked, and just like that, the case was in his hand.

Liam followed silently, his hands shoved in his pockets, eyes flicking toward me like he wanted to say something but decided against it.

We barely made it up the stairs before the chaos started.

“Who’s that?” a voice demanded. A girl with long dark hair—maybe fourteen—stood in the hallway, arms crossed like a bouncer outside a club. She had the same piercing eyes as Grace, sharp and unyielding.

“This is Elena,” Grace said patiently. “She’ll be staying with us for a while.”

The girl looked me up and down like she was measuring my worth. “Sophia,” she said finally, like I should be honored she introduced herself at all.

“Hi,” I managed.

She didn’t answer, just rolled her eyes and stomped off toward a bedroom.

“Don’t take it personally,” Noah said, setting my suitcase down outside a small room at the end of the hall. “Sophia hates everyone equally.”

“I don’t hate everyone,” Sophia shouted from behind her door.

“See?” Noah smirked.

I wanted to laugh, but the knot in my chest was too tight. Instead, I followed Grace into what would be my room. It was small but cozy, with a twin bed tucked under the window and a dresser against the wall. A quilt in faded blues and yellows lay neatly across the bed, like someone had tried to make it welcoming.

“You get settled,” Grace said gently. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

By the time I made it downstairs, the house buzzed with noise. The kitchen table was crowded with mismatched chairs and mismatched people. I counted—two foster kids I hadn’t met yet (one shy, one loud), Sophia still scowling, Noah leaning back in his chair like he owned the place, and Liam already halfway through setting out plates.

I froze in the doorway, clutching the back of a chair. I’d been in loud rooms before—cafeterias, pep rallies, birthday parties—but this felt different. Louder. Messier. Alive in a way I hadn’t felt in weeks.

Grace noticed me lingering. “Elena, come sit next to me,” she said, patting the empty chair at her side.

I slid into the seat, trying to make myself invisible.

Dinner was stew and homemade bread, and everyone ate like they hadn’t seen food in days. Conversation overlapped in a hundred directions: Sophia ranting about a girl at school, Noah cracking jokes, the foster kid at the end telling a story about a prank gone wrong. Every time I opened my mouth to say something, the moment slipped away, drowned out by laughter or interruptions.

It was overwhelming. And yet... for the first time since the accident, I didn’t feel like a ghost haunting an empty room.

Then Noah leaned across the table, grinning. “So, Elena, city girl, huh? You ever milk a cow?”

My spoon froze halfway to my mouth. “Uh... no?”

The entire table burst into laughter. Even Liam cracked a tiny smile. My cheeks burned hot, and I stared down at my stew, wishing the floor would swallow me whole.

“Don’t listen to him,” Grace scolded, though she was smiling too. “He’s just trying to get a rise out of you.”

“Worked, didn’t it?” Noah said.

I glared at him, but something about the sparkle in his eyes made my stomach twist again.

Liam caught my gaze from across the table, quieter than the rest, and for a second, it felt like he understood exactly how out of place I was. He didn’t say anything, just gave the slightest nod, likeyou’re not alone.

And in that moment, I almost believed him.

That night, the farmhouse felt too alive to sleep.

Every creak of the floorboards, every burst of laughter drifting from the living room, every door slamming down the hall—it all reminded me how different this place was from home. Back in the city, nights were filled with the hum of traffic and the distant wail of sirens. Here, it was frogs croaking in the pond outside and the occasional bark of a dog.

I lay under the quilt staring at the ceiling, tracing the faded floral wallpaper with my eyes. I’d tried unpacking, but staring at my clothes folded neatly in someone else’s dresser made me feel more like a guest than ever.

Rolling onto my side, I caught my reflection in the small mirror above the dresser. Same long dark hair my mom used to braid on mornings I overslept. Same wide brown eyes I’d inherited from my dad, ringed with exhaustion now. Same freckle on my chin that people teased me about in middle school. Except I didn’t look the same at all. I looked... hollow.

I pressed my face into the pillow and squeezed my eyes shut. Sleep didn’t come easy, but eventually the murmur of voices downstairs faded and the house settled into silence.

Morning came too soon.

“Up and at it!” Grace’s voice carried down the hallway like a battle cry.

I groaned, dragging myself out of bed. My hair was a mess, and my eyes were still puffy from crying in my sleep, but I yanked on jeans and a sweater anyway. If I was going to survive my first day at a new school, I at least wanted to blend in.

The kitchen was already chaos when I got there. Noah leaned against the counter munching on toast, Sophia was frantically searching for her backpack, and one of the foster kids was chasing the other with a spoonful of peanut butter.

“You’re riding with Noah,” Grace said, sliding a plate of scrambled eggs toward me. “He drives the younger ones.”

“Lucky you,” Noah said, flashing a grin.

“Lucky me,” I muttered under my breath, stabbing at my eggs with a fork.

Liam appeared then, slipping into a chair with a notebook tucked under his arm. He didn’t say much, just poured himself some coffee and gave me a small nod like he had the night before. It was weirdly comforting.

By the time everyone had finished breakfast, the kitchen looked like a tornado had hit it. Grace shooed us all out the door, thrusting lunches into hands and reminding Sophia not to forget her science project.

The Harper driveway was lined with cars, but Noah’s beat-up truck seemed to be the designated school vehicle. I climbed into the passenger seat, clutching my bag to my chest, while Sophia and one of the foster kids clambered into the back.

“Seatbelt,” Noah said, starting the engine. His hair caught the morning light, messy in a way that looked like he spent time making it look effortless. He wore a faded T-shirt that showed off the tan of someone who spent way too much time outdoors.

I clicked the buckle into place and turned toward the window.

The drive into town was bumpy, the truck rattling as Noah swerved around potholes like he owned the road. Music blared from the speakers—some old rock band I didn’t recognize. Sophia complained about the volume, Noah turned it up louder, and the foster kid in the back just laughed.

“Relax, new girl,” Noah said over the music. “We’ll have you broken in by the end of the week.”

“I don’t break easy,” I shot back before I could stop myself.

He glanced at me, surprised, then grinned wider. “Good. You’ll need that around here.”

My cheeks flushed, and I turned back to the window, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing me flustered.

As the school came into view—a low brick building surrounded by fields—I felt my stomach drop. First days were always bad enough. First days in the middle of junior year, in a town where everyone already knew everyone else? That was going to be brutal.

I gripped the strap of my bag tighter. Ready or not, this was my new life.

And I had no idea how to survive it.

Walking into Willow Creek High was like stepping straight into a movie I hadn’t auditioned for.

The hallways buzzed with energy—lockers slamming, conversations colliding, laughter bouncing off the walls. Everyone seemed to know exactly where they belonged. Except me. I clutched my bag like a lifeline, my schedule crumpled in my fist, trying not to look as lost as I felt.

“Don’t worry,” Noah said beside me, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “People will stare. New girl tax. You’ll survive.”

“Great,” I muttered. “Love being a tax.”

He chuckled, clearly enjoying this way too much.

Liam walked a few steps behind us, quiet as always, his eyes scanning the hall like he was bracing for impact. Every so often, I caught him glancing at me, and each time I couldn’t decide if it made me more nervous or... steadier.

“Yo, Harper!” A guy’s voice cut through the noise. A tall blond kid slapped Noah on the back as we passed. “Game Friday—you better bring it.”

“Always do,” Noah said, grinning, before turning back to me. “That’s Jason. He thinks he’s funnier than he is.”

Jason’s gaze shifted to me. “And who’s this?”

“Elena,” Noah said, like he was introducing someone at a press conference. “She’s with us now.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, smirk tugging at his mouth. ”With you,huh?”

My face burned. “Not like that,” I said quickly.

Jason laughed, holding up his hands. “Hey, no judgment. Welcome to Willow Creek, Elena.” He wandered off, leaving me wanting to disappear into the nearest locker.

“Subtle,” I hissed at Noah.

“What?” He looked genuinely confused. “Youarewith us. You live with us now.”

“That’s not how it sounded.”

Noah just smirked and pushed open the door to my first class. “Relax. People will get used to you.”

They didn’t. Not right away.

By third period, whispers followed me wherever I went.That’s the girl staying with the Harpers.She’s from the city.She’s the one whose parents—The words trailed off, but I didn’t need them finished. I knew exactly what they were saying.

At lunch, I stood frozen in the cafeteria doorway, gripping my tray. The room buzzed with chatter, tables already claimed by groups who looked like they’d known each other since kindergarten.

“Over here.” Liam’s voice came from the corner. He sat with a small cluster of kids, sketchbook open in front of him, pencil moving across the page. He’d saved me a seat.

Relief washed over me. I slid into the chair, grateful for the lifeline.

The others at the table gave polite smiles. A girl with curly hair introduced herself as Mariah, and a boy with glasses nodded hello before going back to his book. It wasn’t the loud, spotlighted energy of Noah’s table across the room, but it felt... safer.

I glanced at Liam’s sketchbook. He was drawing the cafeteria—capturing details in quick, sure strokes. “You’re really good,” I said before I could stop myself.

He shrugged, not looking up. “Helps me tune out the noise.”

For a second, I wanted to sayme too.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of new teachers, endless stares, and the sinking feeling that I would always be the outsider here. By the final bell, my head ached from forcing myself to act like I was fine.

Noah was waiting by the truck, tossing a football in the air. “Survived?” he asked, grinning.

“Barely,” I muttered.

“You’ll get the hang of it.” He tossed the ball into the back of the truck. “Come on, let’s get home before Sophia declares mutiny.”

Liam was already in the passenger seat this time, sketchbook balanced on his knees. I climbed into the middle, wedged between the two brothers, my knees knocking against the gear shift.

The truck roared to life, music blasting again. As the fields blurred past the window, I let out a slow breath.

I’d survived my first day.

But deep down, I knew this was only the beginning.

By the time we pulled into the driveway, the sky had shifted to dusky pink, the farmhouse glowing like it had soaked up the last of the sun.

Inside, the house was already alive with noise. Grace was in the kitchen, apron dusted with flour, barking gentle orders about homework and chores. Sophia sprawled on the couch, phone in hand, earbuds in. The foster kids were arguing over whose turn it was to feed the chickens.

I hovered in the doorway, unsure where to fit.

“Elena,” Grace called, spotting me. “Would you mind setting the table? Plates are in the cabinet to your left.”

“Uh...sure.”

I slipped into motion, grateful to have something to do. The plates were mismatched, some chipped at the edges, but they fit together like pieces of a puzzle. I laid them out carefully, listening to the rhythm of the Harpers’ life unfolding around me.

Noah strolled in, still carrying that easy grin. He ruffled Sophia’s hair on his way past, earning a sharp “Knock it off!” and a shove. He caught my eye then, grinning wider.

“What?” I asked, self-conscious.

“You’re doing it too neat,” he teased, pointing at the perfectly lined-up silverware. “This family doesn’t do straight lines. You gotta loosen up.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help a small smile. “I like straight lines.”

“Figured.” He winked and grabbed a chair with one hand like it weighed nothing.

A few minutes later, Liam slipped in quietly, earbuds around his neck, sketchbook under his arm. He sat at the corner of the table, flipping it open like the rest of the world didn’t matter. His pencil scratched against the paper, quick and sure.

Curiosity got the better of me. “What are you drawing?”

He tilted the page just enough for me to see. It was the kitchen—Grace at the stove, Sophia slouched on the couch, Noah leaning against the counter. The lines were loose but alive, capturing a snapshot of the chaos better than any photograph.

“Wow,” I whispered. “You’re... really talented.”

Liam shrugged, eyes still on the paper. “It’s just something to do.”

“Don’t let him fool you,” Noah said, tossing a grape into his mouth. “He’s basically the next Picasso. Or... whoever paints sad trees.”

Liam shot him a glare. “You mean Van Gogh.”

“See? Total nerd.” Noah winked at me. “But don’t worry, he’s harmless. Me, on the other hand...”

I raised an eyebrow. “What about you?”

He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. “Quarterback. Junior year. Friday night lights, cheerleaders, the whole deal. You’ll see.”

I blinked. “You’re the quarterback?”

“Don’t sound so shocked.” His grin widened. “It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta carry the team.”

“Carry your ego, you mean,” Sophia muttered from the couch.

Noah tossed a grape at her. She dodged it without looking up from her phone.

Grace clapped her hands. “Enough! Dinner’s ready.”

We all shuffled to our seats, bowls of pasta passed around, conversation layering over itself. I tried to follow along, but I kept circling back to the two brothers across from me.

Noah: loud, charming, the center of gravity in every room.Liam: quiet, steady, slipping into the background until you really looked—and then you couldn’t look away.

I wasn’t sure where I fit between them. Or if I fit at all.

After dinner, chores were divided up. Noah disappeared to the barn with Sophia trailing behind him, grumbling. Liam lingered in the living room, sketchbook balanced on his knees while a video game hummed quietly on the TV. I stood at the sink, hands submerged in suds, scrubbing plates because it was the only way to feel useful.

“You don’t have to do that,” Grace said gently, drying her hands.

“I don’t mind,” I said quickly.

She gave me a long, searching look before nodding. “You’ll find your place here, Elena. It takes time.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure if I believed her.

From the living room, Noah’s laughter echoed—loud and carefree. Liam’s voice was quieter, muttering something to himself as his game character jumped across the screen.

I dried my hands and lingered in the doorway, watching them without meaning to. Two brothers, so different it was almost hard to believe they lived under the same roof.

And somehow, both of them had already managed to get under my skin.

After dinner, the air outside still carried the warmth of late summer. The sky stretched wide, streaked in purples and oranges, and the fields whispered with the sound of crickets.

Grace handed me a bucket of feed. “Would you mind helping Noah with the horses? He was supposed to get to it earlier, but you know how he is.”

“I heard that!” Noah called from the porch, grinning.

Grace ignored him. “It’s good for them to get used to you, Elena. The horses, I mean.” She smiled knowingly before heading back inside.

I stared down at the heavy bucket in my hands. “Horses?”

“Relax, city girl.” Noah appeared beside me, taking the bucket with one hand like it weighed nothing. “They don’t bite. Much.”

I gave him a look, but he just smirked and started toward the barn. I followed, my sneakers crunching on the gravel path.

The barn loomed ahead, weathered wood glowing gold in the fading light. Inside, it smelled of hay and earth, warm and rich. Horses shifted in their stalls, nickering softly. My chest tightened—half awe, half nerves.

“They’re... huge,” I whispered.

Noah chuckled, pouring feed into a trough. “You’re fine. They can smell fear, though.”

I froze. “Are you serious?”

His grin widened. “Nah. Well... kinda.”

I swatted his arm, earning a laugh. It echoed through the barn, easy and unbothered, like everything about him.

“Here,” he said, grabbing another bucket. “Come on.”

He led me to a tall chestnut mare, her eyes dark and calm. “This is Daisy. She’s the sweetest. Just hold out your hand like this.”

I copied him, palm flat, and flinched when Daisy’s velvety nose brushed against my skin. She ate from my hand gently, warm breath tickling my fingers.

“Oh,” I breathed. “That’s... not so bad.”

“See? Natural.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Don’t worry.” His grin turned mischievous. “I’ll make a country girl out of you yet.”

Before I could respond, he opened the stall and swung himself up onto Daisy’s back in one smooth motion. No saddle, no reins, just confidence. He sat there like he’d been born in the saddle.

My jaw dropped. “Show-off.”

“Maybe.” He leaned forward, patting Daisy’s neck. “C’mon. Your turn.”

I stumbled back. “No way. Absolutely not.”

“Don’t be such a chicken.”

“I’m not a chicken, I just—”

“Then prove it.” He extended a hand down toward me, eyes glinting in the fading light. “I’ll hold on. Promise.”

I hesitated, heart hammering. Every nerve screamedbad idea.But something in his expression—challenging, teasing, daring me to say no—made my pride kick in.

“Fine,” I muttered, taking his hand.

He pulled me up with ease, settling me in front of him. My pulse raced as Daisy shifted beneath us, muscles rippling.

“Relax,” Noah murmured, steadying me with one hand at my waist. “You’re safe.”

Safe wasn’t exactly the word I’d use. Between the horse beneath me and Noah’s closeness, my nerves were shot.

“Ready?” he asked, clicking his tongue. Daisy moved forward, slow and steady, the barn doors opening onto the wide pasture. The world tilted under me, but Noah’s hand stayed firm at my side.

The wind brushed my face, carrying the scent of grass and earth. The sky above deepened to indigo, stars beginning to peek through.

I couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped out—half terror, half exhilaration. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Told you it wasn’t so bad.” His voice was low, smug, but softer now too.

For a few moments, it felt like the world outside didn’t exist. Just the horse beneath us, the fading sky, and Noah’s steady presence behind me.

And then Daisy snorted, jolting me back to reality.

“Okay,” I said quickly. “Lesson over.”

Noah chuckled, guiding Daisy back toward the barn. “Not bad for your first ride, Rivera.”

I slid down, legs shaking, heart still racing for reasons I wasn’t sure I wanted to admit.

“See?” he said again, flashing that infuriating grin. “Told you I’d break you in.”

I rolled my eyes, but the truth was, I was smiling too.

By the time I climbed the stairs, my body felt like it had run a marathon. My legs still buzzed from holding on to Daisy, and my cheeks burned from the memory of Noah’s arm steadying me.

The farmhouse was quiet now—just the creak of old wood settling, the hum of crickets through my open window. Sophia’s music thumped faintly through the wall, muffled but constant, like she needed it to fall asleep.

I lay back on the quilted bedspread, staring at the shadows on the ceiling.

It had only been a couple of days, but Noah was already everywhere. His voice, his laughter, the way he carried himself like the world bent to him. He made me feel noticed in a way that was... intoxicating. And confusing.

I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, groaning softly.It’s just a crush. A dumb, stupid crush.

Except it didn’t feel dumb when he leaned close, steadying me on the horse. Or when he looked at me like he expected me to rise to every challenge he threw my way.

I rolled onto my side, hugging the pillow. I could still smell the faint mix of hay and soap clinging to my clothes. It made my chest tight, like I’d swallowed a secret.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to keep my head down, survive this new life, not... get tangled up in boys who laughed too loud and smiled too easily.

But in the dark, with the house settling around me, I couldn’t stop the thought from slipping through—dangerous, uninvited, but there all the same:

What if Noah Harper was the only good thing about this whole mess?

I buried my face in the pillow, heart racing, wishing sleep would come fast enough to save me from myself.

Sleep didn’t come easy. I kept tossing, flipping my pillow to the cool side, staring at the slice of moonlight that spilled across my floor. The farmhouse wasn’t quiet after all—pipes groaned, the floorboards sighed, and every once in a while, someone’s laugh or cough drifted up through the vents.

I was on the edge of dozing off when voices cut through the silence. Low at first, then sharper.

Noah and Liam.

I sat up, straining to hear through the thin walls.

“...not funny, Noah. You can’t just—” Liam’s voice, tight.

“I was showing her the ropes. Relax.” Noah’s tone was easy, but there was a rough edge to it.

“You think everything’s a joke. She’s not some game.”

“Oh, come on. You’ve known her five minutes, and suddenly you’re her knight in shining armor?”

A door slammed—or maybe a fist against the wall. My heart thudded.

“You don’t get it,” Liam snapped.

“And you don’t getme,” Noah shot back. His voice was louder now, heated. “Not everything has to be your quiet little pity party, Liam. Some of us actually like living.”

There was a stretch of silence. Then footsteps—heavy, angry—pounded down the hallway. A door slammed shut.

I held my breath, staring at the shadowy ceiling. My pulse hammered, torn between wanting to stay invisible and this strange pull toward the chaos unraveling outside my door.

A moment later, another set of footsteps stopped just outside my room. The floor creaked.

Then: a knock. Light, but insistent.

“Elena?” Noah’s voice, low.

I scrambled upright, heart in my throat. “Yeah?”

The door cracked open. Moonlight caught in his hair, turning it silver at the edges. He leaned against the frame, all casual swagger—but his jaw was tight, and his eyes were stormier than I’d ever seen them.

“Sorry if we woke you.”

“You didn’t.” My voice came out softer than I meant.

He hesitated, then stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The air shifted instantly, smaller, heavier.

For a beat, he just stood there, running a hand through his hair. “Liam... he takes everything so seriously. He doesn’t get that I’m just trying to help you fit in.”

I blinked. “By putting me on a horse with no warning?”

A corner of his mouth lifted. “You smiled, though. First real smile I’ve seen on you since you got here.”

Heat crept up my neck. I looked away, suddenly fascinated by the quilt’s pattern. “That doesn’t mean it wasn’t terrifying.”

“Maybe. But you did it.” He stepped closer, shadows shifting with him. “You’re tougher than you think.”

The space between us felt too small, the air too charged. I swallowed hard. “Noah—”

But he only gave me that crooked grin, softer this time, almost apologetic. “Get some sleep, Rivera. Big day tomorrow.”

And just like that, he was gone—leaving the faint smell of hay and soap in the air, and me wide awake, tangled in feelings I wasn’t ready to name.

The next morning, the farmhouse felt strange. Too still.

Usually there was shouting, footsteps thundering down the stairs, doors slamming as everyone scrambled for backpacks and rides. But today, the place was hushed.

Sophia had tossed me a sympathetic look at breakfast. “Lucky you—half day off to adjust.” Then she and the others disappeared, leaving only Liam, Noah, and me rattling around the house like loose change in a jar.

I wasn’t sure which was worse: the chaos or the silence.

By midmorning, I’d retreated to the porch with a book I wasn’t actually reading. The September air smelled faintly of cut grass and hay. Somewhere in the fields, birdsong laced through the quiet.

I was just about to give up and head inside when the screen door banged behind me. Noah stepped out, stretching like he owned the whole sky.

“Man, it’s weird with everyone gone,” he said, flopping into the chair opposite me. “Almost peaceful.”

“Almost,” Liam’s voice cut in from the doorway. His arms were crossed, his expression tight.

I stiffened. Something in the air shifted.

“What’s your problem now?” Noah asked, lazily but with an edge.

“My problem,” Liam snapped, “is you dragging her into your stunts. Horses? On her second night here? You could’ve gotten her hurt.”

I froze, the book slipping in my lap.Oh no. Not this again.

Noah smirked, leaning back. “She’s fine. Weren’t you, Elena?”

Two sets of eyes landed on me. My mouth went dry. “I... um... yeah. I mean, it was scary, but—”

“See?” Noah cut in, triumphant. “She survived. Even smiled a little.”

“That’s not the point,” Liam shot back. He stepped closer, glaring at his brother. “You can’t just throw people into things because you think you know best. She’s not some... project.”

Something in Noah’s expression hardened. He sat forward, elbows on his knees. “Why do you care so much, Liam? You don’t even know her.”

“Because I knowyou,” Liam snapped.

The words hung in the air, sharp as glass.

Noah’s grin vanished. “Careful.”

“I’m serious,” Liam said, quieter now but more dangerous. “You don’t think about consequences. You play with people, and then you walk away when it gets messy. Don’t do that to her.”

My chest tightened. I wanted to disappear, to sink through the porch floorboards, but my legs wouldn’t move.

Noah stood then, closing the distance between them. He was taller, broader, all easy swagger gone now. “You think you’ve got me figured out? Newsflash—you don’t know a damn thing.”

Liam didn’t flinch. “I know enough.”

They stared each other down, the space between them crackling. For a second, I thought one of them might actually swing.

Then Noah’s eyes flicked to me. Just for a heartbeat. But it was enough to make Liam’s jaw tighten, his shoulders stiffen like he’d just lost something.

The screen door creaked again as Liam turned on his heel and disappeared inside without another word.

The silence he left behind felt heavier than the argument itself.

Noah exhaled, running a hand through his hair. Then he looked at me, a smile tugging at his mouth—crooked, but not reaching his eyes.

“Sorry you had to see that.”

I swallowed hard, my voice barely steady. “Does that... happen a lot?”

“Sometimes.” He shrugged, as if the whole thing hadn’t just cracked open something fragile between them. “Don’t worry about Liam. He takes everything way too seriously.”

But the way he said it—like a reflex, like a cover—made me wonder if maybe Liam wasn’t wrong.

Noah didn’t give me time to answer. He stretched his arms overhead, like he could shrug the whole argument off, then nodded toward the barn.

“Come on. You’ve got unfinished business.”

I blinked. “What?”

“Horses.” That grin flickered back onto his face, playful again. “Last night was just a warm-up. Today, you actually ride.”

My stomach dropped. “Wait—ride ride? By myself?”

“Exactly.”

Every nerve in me screamed no. But there was something about Noah Harper—this reckless, infuriating confidence—that made it impossible to back down. If I said no, he’d never let me live it down. And worse—I’d never let myself live it down.

So I followed him.

The barn smelled of hay and sun-warmed wood. Dust motes floated in the shafts of light that filtered through the high windows. Horses shifted in their stalls, tails swishing, eyes following us.

Noah moved like he belonged here, grabbing a saddle, looping the reins with practiced ease. “Daisy’s your girl,” he said, nodding toward the chestnut mare. “She’s gentle. Promise.”

I eyed Daisy warily. She was beautiful, sure—but also massive. “She looks... not gentle.”

“Don’t judge a book by its cover.” He flashed a grin. “Besides, I’ll be right here.”

I wasn’t sure if that was reassuring or the opposite.

With Noah’s help, I got Daisy saddled and led her out into the paddock. The ground was soft under my sneakers, the air humming with cicadas. My hands shook as I clutched the reins.

“Okay,” Noah said, holding out his hands. “Foot here, swing your leg over. I’ve got you.”

I hesitated. “What if I fall?”

“Then I’ll catch you.”

Of course he’d say that. And of course my pulse would spike at the words.

Taking a breath, I put my foot in the stirrup. My body lurched awkwardly as I tried to swing up, nearly toppling backward—but Noah’s hands steadied me, one firm at my back, one guiding my leg.

“Easy,” he murmured. “There you go.”

And suddenly, I was up. Higher than I expected. The world tilted differently from here, the ground farther away, the horizon stretched wide.

“Oh my god,” I breathed, clutching the reins.

“You’re fine,” Noah said, stepping back. Pride gleamed in his eyes. “Look at you.”

I wasn’t sure if I felt exhilarated or sick. Maybe both.

“Okay,” he continued. “Just a walk. Nudge her gently with your heels.”

I did, and Daisy shifted forward. My heart jumped into my throat. But she moved smoothly, her steps steady, and before I knew it, we were circling the paddock.

I laughed—half terrified, half amazed. “I’m actually doing it!”

“Told you,” Noah said, leaning against the fence, watching me with that infuriating grin. “Natural.”

I shot him a look. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you like it.”

The words made me falter, nearly tugging too hard on the reins. My cheeks burned. He laughed, like he knew exactly what effect he had.

For a few minutes, it was just me and Daisy, the rhythm of her steps, the smell of grass and warm air. For the first time since everything changed, I felt... free.

When I finally slid down, Noah caught my hand, steadying me again. His palm was warm, his smile softer this time.

“See?” he said. “Told you you could do it.”

And just like that, I was falling again—only this time, it wasn’t the horse I was afraid of.

My legs were still trembling when Noah helped me down from Daisy.

“Not bad, Rivera,” he murmured, his hand lingering at my waist a second longer than necessary. His grin was softer now, not teasing—almost proud. “Told you you were tougher than you thought.”

I opened my mouth to protest, to remind him I’d nearly had a heart attack the entire time, but the words stuck. Because he was closer than I realized, his eyes steady on mine, warm in a way that made my stomach flip.

For a beat, the barnyard went quiet. Just the buzz of cicadas, the creak of leather, Daisy huffing softly behind us.

And him.

My heart hammered, wild and uneven. I should’ve stepped back. I should’ve saidthank youand walked away. But I didn’t. I just stood there, caught in the gravity of his gaze.

Noah leaned in, slow, careful for once. His breath brushed my cheek, his hand still resting lightly at my side. It was the kind of moment that felt suspended, fragile, like the universe itself was holding its breath.

And then—

“Seriously?”

We jumped apart. Liam stood by the paddock fence, arms crossed, eyes hard.

My face burned. Noah’s jaw tightened, his easy grin wiped away in an instant.

“Relax, Liam,” he said, his voice sharp. “We’re just riding.”

“That’s not what it looked like.”

The air between them snapped, charged again. I hugged my arms to my chest, wishing the ground would swallow me whole.

Liam’s gaze flicked to me—brief, unreadable—before settling back on his brother. “Don’t drag her into your games, Noah. She doesn’t deserve that.”

Noah’s eyes narrowed. “You think you’re the only one who cares what happens to her?”

Liam didn’t answer, but the way his jaw clenched said everything. After a long beat, he turned and walked back toward the house, shoulders stiff.

Noah let out a sharp breath, dragging a hand through his hair. “Unbelievable.” He looked at me then, his expression softening a little. “Don’t listen to him, Rivera. He’s just... Liam.”

But the thing was, I had listened. And now my heart was tangled between two brothers who couldn’t seem to stop fighting over things I didn’t even understand yet.