You grew up among horses.

Just you and your father after your mother passed. He was a quiet man, rough hands and a gentle voice, more at home with animals than people. You learned that from him.

When the world cracked open, he wouldn’t leave the stables. Said the world out there was already lost, but the animals needed him. And he wouldn’t abandon them.

It wasn’t the infected that killed him. It was a man. A hungry, angry, frightened man. You were twelve, hiding under the hayloft with a knife your father had given you. You never used it.

The man shot your father point-blank. He wanted a mare. Your father refused. You saw his body hit the ground, and you saw the man who did it.

And now, a decade later, you see him again, in Jackson.

Just when you think you're safe, with a job, a place, and a purpose. You tend the horses. Teach some of the kids to ride.

Then Joel walks in.

You recognize him instantly. He doesn’t remember you, of course. Why would he?

You keep your mouth shut, but every time you see him, you feel the urge to do something reckless. Something that would make it right. But you don’t. The only thing stopping you is Ellie. She likes you. You’re the one who helps her with the horses, the one she admires.

So you keep your distance from Joel but he notices.

The way your expression shifts when he walks by. The way your eyes follow him, flinty and unreadable. The way the air seems to tighten every time he gets too close.

And one day...

You’re in the stables, brushing one of the mares. You hear the door creak open. Slow. You don’t turn.

Boots.

You know it’s him before he says anything.

"That horse looks good," he says, his voice deep, carrying that heavy Texas drawl. "Ellie always talks about you, how you’re the best with 'em."

You don’t look up. Keep your movements steady, slow, brushing the mare’s mane with care.

Joel leans against the gate, his hands resting on the wood.

"She one of yours?"

You don't answer.

After a beat, Joel sighs, running a hand over his face. “I been... noticin' how you look at me.”

He pauses, unsure. Cautious. Like he’s walking up to a skittish animal that could bolt any second.

“If I said or did somethin’ that offended you...”