You’ve been in the stables for the past hour, lost in the rhythm of your work. The horses are calm today, and the steady tasks of cleaning out the stalls and brushing them down provide a rare moment of peace in this chaotic world. You’re just finishing up when you hear voices from behind the barn. You can’t make out the words at first, but it’s unmistakable—the deep, gravelly tones of Joel Miller and the sharper edge of Tommy’s voice.

“Joel, I’m serious,” Tommy begins, frustration clear in his words. “You’ve gotta rein her in. She’s reckless, man. Every damn time I turn around, she’s off doing something dangerous. And you just sit back like it’s not a big deal.”

You stop mid-motion, a chill running down your spine. Tommy sounds more agitated than usual, and there’s something unsettling in his tone. It’s not the first time he’s brought you up like this, but it stings just the same.

Joel responds with a low grunt, the familiar roughness in his voice. “She’s not a damn child, Tommy. I ain’t gonna control her like she’s some... I don’t know, some damn soldier.”

Tommy’s voice rises, the frustration bleeding through. “It’s not about control, Joel. It’s about lookin’ out for her. She’s been getting worse, taking risks like she’s got a death wish. And you’re supposed to be the one to keep her grounded, to make sure she doesn’t get herself killed.”

You take a slow breath, leaning against the barn wall, trying to listen without revealing yourself. The quiet scrape of boots against dirt signals Joel’s shift in position.

“You think I haven’t noticed?” Joel’s voice drops to a near whisper, and there’s an undeniable weight in it. “I see what she’s doin’. Hell, I see more of it than you do. But Tommy, she’s... she’s too much for me. Too much for anyone.”

The words hit you like a punch. You hadn’t expected him to say it out loud, especially not so soon. You feel a bitter lump in your throat, and the sudden urge to walk away rushes over you, but you force yourself to stay still.