Page 8 of Sunrise Arrows

As he loads her back into the stall, I mutter, “You’ve gotta be shittin’ me. You’re going again?” I shake my head knowing I can’t stop him. As stubborn as Dolley is, Ryder’s worse. When his mind is set, there’s no changing it.

I check my watch and, now that I’m out of time, dismount from Gatsby. I pet his flank and give him a few pats before handing him off to Lucy-Mae who's just pulled up in the side by side, thanking her for taking care of Gatsby for me.

“Of course, Mr. Hayes.”

“Miss Lucy, you’ve been in the stables as long as I’ve been alive; you don’t need?—”

“With all due respect, Mr. Hayes, you’re the bossman who signs my check, so yes I do.” Clicking her tongue, she coos to Gatsby, “Come on pretty boy, let’s go for a bit of a walk and then how does a nice long brushing sound to you?” When he nudges her as she guides him away, she chuckles, “Yeah, I thought so.”

Pointing to Boone before I bend down to pick up the now cracked iPad, I inform, “If he’s dead when I get back, you’re fired.” Then looking up at Ryder who's back in the stall—Dolley already antsy and wanting to buck—I order, “Don’t orphan my niece while I’m gone!”

“Thanks, Archer!”

I wave over my head as I step over the rail and get into the side by side.

It’s a short drive over to the paddock Hunter’s working in today, and before I even stop, he’s hopping in and slapping his palm on the roof, urging me to keep going.

He reaches under himself and pulls free the iPad.

“I take it Dolley’s still giving Ryder issues,” he guesses correctly, chuckling at the spider cracks all across the screen.

“Third one in the last month,” I grumble, taking it and tossing it into the basket in the back. “At least I can still use this one.”

When we reach the stables, I turn off the side by side and hook the keys in their spot above the desk where Lucy-Mae works keeping the logs on the ranch’s horses. My brother and I cut through, nodding and exchanging words to those we pass without stopping, most everyone just guessing at which one of us is addressing them.

Before I started wearing contacts, it was easier for everyone to tell us a part. Out on the ranch, though, they were a problem with me breaking pairs as frequently as I do tablets. Still, Hunter and I may be identical, but there are differences that anyone who took half a second to notice could identify. I’m about two inches taller than him, and while we’re both permanently tanned from life on the ranch, mine is more faded than his given the amount of time I spend in my office instead of on a horse. There’s also our eyes—though Lucy-Mae and Tinsley are the only two outside of the family who have ever noticed the variation in our iris pattern. Mine are a more pronounced dark green like our dad’s were, while Hunter has streaks of blue through his that he gets from our mom.

It’s one of those things we think is obvious to anyone with functioning eyesight. However, at thirty-one, we’ve long since stopped bothering to correct people.

We get into my truck, and the moment it turns on, my phone is connecting via Bluetooth. Coming through the speakers is Tinsley’s sweet as honey voice as she sings about clothes on the floor, lips on her body, fingers in her hair, tangled sheets, and the heaven of feeling forever.

My brother punches the screen with his knuckle, breaking the connection, as he scowls.

“Don’tsay it,” I warn, shifting into drive and making our way up to the gates to head into town.

CHAPTER3

Tinsley

Berry Falls isa world away when comparing it to L.A. Already I feel as if I can breathe again and we’ve only just left the municipal airport after signing for our rental cars. For the first time in years, I’m even in the front seat of one of the three cars—Briar and I in one SUV and Mikey and John split between two others, one in front of us and the other behind.

As I take in the bright afternoon sun and the smog free sky with puffy white clouds, I feel the exhaustion I didn’t realize I’ve been carrying lift from my shoulders.

This is exactly what I needed. To come home.

I’m not originally from Berry Falls, but it’s more like home to me than any place I’ve been. That’s how deeply ingrained in me that summer is. How far those ten weeks burrowed under my skin and slipped into my soul. And while it’s been years since I’ve been here, it feels like it was only yesterday I was turning off the freeway and driving this very road into town for the first time on my way to meet a boy from East Tennessee who would change my life forever, though I didn’t know it at the time.

The wave of nostalgia crashes over me and I roll the window down, urging Briar to do the same with the rest of them. The lazy breeze, combined with the 65 mile per hour speed we’re cruising at, has the waves of my hair whipping around my head. I unbuckle my seatbelt and turn to reach into the backseat and pull my hat out from one of the bags.

It’s not actually mine. The faded black cap with the gold stitched Vanderbilt V on the front belonged to Archer. Somewhere along the way I claimed it as mine. I hadn’t known when I left that it would become a reminder of how perfect he and that summer were.

I put it on and immediately begin to braid my hair to prevent the wind from knotting it into a rat’s nest. Grinning back at a smiling Briar, I tempt, “Music?”

“Duh!” she yells, hands off the wheel as she twists her blonde hair up into a messy bun.

I leave my phone with a library of tens of thousands of songs at my fingertips in the cupholder and opt for turning on the radio. It takes a bit to clearly catch a station, but as I’m going, the chords from one of my earlier songs grabs Briar’s attention. She swats my hand away and turns it up, declaring “This is my favorite song of yours.”

“You say that about all of them.”

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