Page 26 of Never Left You

“You’re paying us to do that,” Abi protested.

I looked at her, noticing again how tired and worn down she seemed. How broken. My heart ached, wanting to reach out to her and comfort her in some capacity. I could do this one thing for her, if she’d let me. “Let me help,” I all but whispered.

Our eyes met for the briefest moment, and I swore I caught a glint in there in the blue, something more than she was willing to give. She shook her head lightly, raising her chin high, letting out a sigh before giving in.

“Fine. You can help. But I’m not discounting your rate.” She shifted then, walking away from me.

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” I called after her.

Nine

Abi

ToDo:

-Chicken coop: gather eggs—breakfast!

-Stables: Did Rhett muck them?

-Budget sheet.

-Feed Pigs: is Margie ready to have her babies?

-Stetson: Homework due tomorrow—can Kyla help?

-Horse chores: brush all horses, check on Gemini, muck all stalls (Rhett probably didn’t).

-Showing? Contact Mr. Hubbard.

-Meeting with Lach.

-Prep land.

I glared at my to-do list, only skimming the first few tasks before heaving a sigh and folding it back in my pocket. I wish I had time to myself. I’d have to schedule that into this massive, growing list. I laughed at the thought of actually having free time. The only free time I had was when I met Kyla for the sunset, and even then it was thirty minutes.

I cracked an egg and plopped the yolk into the pan, taking great satisfaction in stabbing it with my spatula. My mom taught me to never scramble eggs in a bowl—you scrambled them in the pan. “Trust me Abi,”she would say.“Don’t murder it in a bowl before it’s had time to touch the perfectly seasoned iron.”When I was little, I loved cooking in the kitchen with my mom. It was a reason I started making breakfasts for everyone, she was there next to me. But now that mom prefers to sleep in—making breakfast became just another task.

What would I even do if I had time to myself? Watch a TV show? Doom scroll? Read a book?

I raised an eyebrow at the thought. I would love to be a reader. On my nightstand, I currently had a historical fiction, the bookmark still sitting in chapter six where it had been for months because every time I went to pick it up, my eyes began to drift closed. Physically reading was definitely not my thing. Listening to an audiobook maybe? I could listen.

The microwave beeped, telling me my coffee was yet again warm as I reached for my phone. There was an app for audiobooks, right? There was always an app. Grabbing my coffee from the microwave, I leaned against the counter, pulling up the App Store, my ears still focused on the scrambling eggs in the pan.

The front door opened, and boots hit the hardwood floor. Moments later, Rhett appeared.

I smiled. I’d gladly take his company while checking off the breakfast task.

“Hey,” I greeted him, setting my phone on the counter to grab the carafe for him. He never used the mugs we had here. He always had his Thermos on him and this was probably his second time filling it.

“Morning Abi.” He held out his Thermos for me to fill, but instead, I set the carafe down on the counter and gave him a stupid grin.

“When do I ever fill your coffee?” I joked, picking my phone back up.

“I have high hopes that one day you will.” He sighed, taking a drink from his Thermos.

“Did you muck out the stalls?” I glanced at him through my lashes, a single eyebrow raised awaiting the answer. I knew what it was, but he said he would.

“It’s dark out. I guarantee you the horses are still sleeping.”

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