Page 91 of All We Carry Home

My heart broke for her in that moment, to think of how alone she was in the world. Or used to be. Now Eddie and the guys—we were here for her. I wanted to say something reassuring, but words failed me.

“Good night, Warren.”

She closed the door, and I stared at it.

I didn’t want her to ever be alone. I’d have to tread far more carefully to get her to trust me and open her heart to me.

Beyond that, I’d need to figure out where my own heart and future truly lay.

Twenty-Three

Eva

JUNE 17

BAKER, OREGON

The day after we returned from Seattle, I rose before the sun and jumped on Acorn for a ride to Beacon’s Bluff.

The sun’s rays warming my skin, the rough boards beneath my hands—it all tied me back to what it was I was trying to do. After that night in Seattle, I was unmoored.

Warren. Keith. The Hartfords’ comments about my parents.

And now a trip to Arizona in search of Mira. With Warren.

I wasn’t sure I could trust myself around him. He had a way of making me share more than I wanted to. Of making me want to commit to things I’d sworn off for eternity.

The truth was, he needed to go back to Philadelphia, or I might give in to his charm. I could so easily fall in love with him.

I’d been here before. I thought Keith had been the one for me. Then I told him about my past, and he’d cast me aside.

Now I was older and knew better. I knew what that secret would do to Warren and his reputation. He’d put on a brave face and tell me that my secret didn’t matter to him. I was certain of that much, which meant it was even more important that I shielded him from this. I had to protect him and his family’s name.

When I returned to the barns, Warren was filling up the grain bins for the morning breakfast for the mares and Phantom. My heart warmed in admiration of how this man—the son of a banking dynasty—was here in my ramshackle barn in Oregon, serving grain to a handful of auction-rescued horses.

He looked up as I rode Acorn to the barn entrance and slipped off. I’d gone back to my old habit of riding without bit or saddle.

“I mentioned our trip to Scottsdale to Eddie,” Warren said. “He asked if Peter and Annie might go with us.”

“That’s a great idea.” It would be more proper than Warren and me being alone, so far away. In Seattle, we were around industry acquaintances. Warren had also proven that he cared little for others’ opinions. It was nice, a bit like how Gramps had faced the world.

It was a trait I didn’t seem to possess.

“Annie might be disappointed when they don’t allow Patches on the airplane,” Warren said.

“I won’t be surprised if she smuggles the kitten and chicken in her suitcase,” I replied with a laugh, leading Acorn toward her paddock.

I had calls to make and three horses to take delivery of in the next few days, after all the conversations at the banquet. The aisles of Birkstrom were filling, if slowly.

Would it be enough?

Near the site of the old cabins, construction of new houses had begun. The piles of supplies Gramps had collected were running low, and I’d noticed Eddie making more frequent runs into town.

I couldn’t fight it, though. These men needed safe places to sleep, especially once winter came around. If they were still here, that is. I’d sort that all out after the national competition.

I’d make sure one day that Warren was repaid for all he’d invested.

Lucky and Mason walked toward the barn, waved cheerily, and set to work on repairing the final few stalls. It was a marvel to see that after more than a month of dedicated hands, the stalls had secured boards, doors with smooth hinges, and proper lighting and plumbing.