The ride to the south pond had been filled with the kind of blunt, unfiltered conversation only lifelong friends like Blake and I could have. He'd been grillin' me about the twins and the "sharing" rumors Axel had dropped, and I'd given him the bookworm's perspective on complicated dynamics.
"You're crazy, Cam," Blake had laughed, right before he tackled me into the mud near the water's edge.
But the laughter died the second Cash and Colt crested the ridge. They weren't there for a swim.
"Storm's moving in," Colt shouted over the rising wind, his deeper baritone cutting through the humidity. "It'll be here in an hour. It's gonna be a gusher."
The sky behind them was the color of a fresh bruise. I didn't need to be told twice. I whistled for Twist, my mind already racing through the topography of the ranch. "The low-ground herd," I said, pulling my tank top on over my damp skin. "If that creek flashes, we'll lose them all."
We rode like the devil was at our heels. The twins didn't have waterproof gear for their phones, so I snatched them up, tucking them into my sandwich bag alongside mine and shoving them deep into my saddlebag.
We reached the herd just as the first crack of thunder rattled my teeth. With Blake, the twins, and three extra hands who appeared from the treeline, we began the frantic push. It was a chaotic symphony of whistling, shouting, and the heavy thud of hooves against sodden earth.
"Get 'em up! Move!" I screamed, swinging my lariat to pop the air behind a stubborn heifer.
We cleared the low-wash just as the heavens opened up. It wasn't just rain; it was a wall of water that turned the world grey.
"Head for the barn!" someone yelled through the deluge.
Twist was a powerhouse, his hooves churning through the rising mud, but I felt the ground beneath us begin to give way. The "appendix" in him wanted to run, but the "quarter horse" knew better. I pulled him back to a steady, cautious walk.
"Easy, boy," I murmured, blinking back the rain that was stinging my eyes.
I looked back over my shoulder. Blake was struggling with his mount, and the twins were right on his flanks, their horses' ears pinned back against the wind. The other three riders were still trying to push through at a trot, their horses sliding dangerously.
"Dismount!" I hollered, though my voice was nearly swallowed by the gale. "Walk 'em, or they'll break a leg!"
Cash caught my eye through the curtain of rain. He was soaked to the bone, his shirt clinging to his chest, but he gave me a sharp, determined nod. He slid off his horse, leading the way for the others.
The half-mile back to the barn felt like ten. The lightning was arching across the sky now, illuminating the silhouettes of the men behind me. Every time a flash hit, I could see the twins—one on either side of Blake—working in perfect, silent synchronicity. They weren't just "sharing" a life; they were sharing the burden of keeping us all moving.
When the silhouette of the big barn finally emerged through the storm, I felt a sob of relief catch in my throat. We weren't just cold and wet—we were lucky.
The trek from the barn to the house had been a blur of grey water and mud. I'd lost a boot to the muck, and before I could even swear, Colt's arms were around my waist, hoisting me out of the sludge like I weighed nothing.
"You need more muscle," he'd rumbled, his chest vibrating against my shoulder as he walked beside me.
"Do not," I'd shot back, though I didn't pull away when he tucked me under his arm to shield me from the downpour. His button-down was soaked, but it was better than the freezing sting of the rain.
Once we reached the porch and Grandma had worked her magic with the shears—finally taking my hair down to a length that didn't feel like a heavy wet blanket—I beat a retreat to the shower. I scrubbed the grit from my skin until I felt human again, the warm water finally thawing the chill in my bones.
When I stepped back into the bedroom, I found Cash and Colt still there. They looked domestic, almost at home in my sanctuary.
"What?" I asked, catching the odd looks they were giving me.
Colt moved closer, his eyes tracking the way my new, shorter hair framed my face. "Hey, Cash. Grab me a hand towel?"
Cash sighed, pushed off the dresser, and disappeared into the bathroom. He came back a second later, snapping the towel at his brother with a sharp crack.
"Jeez, dude! That hurt!" Colt yelped.
"Quit being a wuss," Cash muttered, though there was a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned back against my dresser, watching us.
Colt didn't seem to mind. He started drying my hair, his touch surprisingly gentle as he ran his fingers through the damp strands, combing out the tangles. "I bet with all this hair cut off, you could make a whole wig," Blake chimed in from the corner, but I barely heard him. I was too focused on the rhythmic pull of Colt's hands.
When he was done, he didn't pull away immediately. He kept messing with the ends, his thumb grazing the nape of my neck.
"Let me see the towel," Cash said.
I started to lean away, but Cash was faster. He stepped into my space, his large hand cupping my jaw to hold my head still. "Hold on. You missed a spot of mud right by your hairline."
He was so close I could smell the rain and the faint scent of cedarwood on his skin. He moved the towel with surgical precision, cleaning the side of my face. Across the room, Blake winked at me. I didn't hesitate—I flipped him off, knowing I'd catch hell for it at church tomorrow.
Cash turned my head, checking the other side with a focused intensity that made my heart do a nervous little dance. "You're good," he finally said, but he didn't let go of my chin right away.
"Didn't expect it to rain today," Blake said, breaking the spell.
"Harold felt it coming," Colt added, finally stepping back. "That's why he sent the hands out. We should have checked the weather before we left the porch."
"Should have and did are two different things," Blake teased, checking his phone. "There's a break in the clouds. I've gotta head out before the next wave hits. See ya in the morning, Cam."
Blake disappeared, leaving a sudden, ringing silence in the room.
Cash looked at me, his eyes dark and unreadable in the dim light of my lamp. "Need anything before we head downstairs?"
"No," I managed to say.
"Alright. See ya later, sweetheart."
They walked out, their synchronized strides echoing in the hallway. I sat on the edge of my bed, the spot where Cash had touched my face still feeling warm. The storm outside was finally quiet, but the one starting in my chest was just beginning to ramp up.