Page 61 of Lost Then Found
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Should’ve known you’d come in here with an attitude.”
She grins. “You wouldn’t recognize me if I didn’t.”
We walk a few more steps in silence, Hudson still darting ahead, taking everything in like he’s trying to memorize it all. Lark exhales, scanning theland stretched out before her. “It still looks the same,” she says, almost to herself. “I mean, I know some things must’ve changed, but it feels…familiar.”
I nod, glancing at the barn ahead. “Guess that’s what happens when a place has been in a family this long. It sticks.”
She huffs a laugh. “Yeah. Like the way the barn door still doesn’t shut all the way ever since you ran into it with that four-wheeler.”
I groan, shaking my head. “Damn, I forgot about that.”
“You were trying to impress me,” she teases, bumping her shoulder into mine.
I scoff. “I was trying to impress myself. You just happened to be there when it all went to hell.”
“You floored it right into the side of the barn, Boone.”
“Not my proudest moment,” I admit, pulling off my baseball hat and running a hand through my hair—hair that’s gotten too long and curly at the ends, that I keep meaning to get cut but never do. When I shove the hat back on, adjusting the brim, Lark’s eyes flick to the movement. It’s quick, barely noticeable, but then she bites the inside of her cheek, like she’s caught herself looking and doesn’t want me to know.
“In my defense,” I add, smirking, “I didn’t think it had that much kick.”
She snorts. “You flipped the damn thing.”
“I didn’t flip it.”
“You totally did.”
I roll my eyes, but she’s grinning, and her laughter spills out, warm and unguarded.
She shakes her head, still smiling. “You were always terrible at playing it cool.”
I shrug, my voice low. “Still managed to get the girl, though.”
For a second, she falters, her smile dimming just a fraction. I shouldn’t have said that—IknowI shouldn’t have said that, but it just slipped out. She recovers quickly, rolling her eyes like it doesn’t matter.
“Until you crashed a four-wheeler into a barn,” she quips, shooting me a pointed look.
I chuckle, shaking my head as we keep walking. “Yeah, yeah. Not all my best moments were behind the wheel.”
The barn hits me with the usual mix of leather, hay, and dust the second we step inside. It’s familiar in the way muscle memory is—built into me from years of early mornings and long days. Sunlight cuts in through the upper windows, slicing golden beams across the dirt floor. Horses shuffle in their stalls, ears twitching, hooves shifting. It’s quiet in the way barns get—busy, but steady.
Couple of the hands are moving around—checking feed, hauling hay, refilling buckets. Walker’s parked himself by the tack room door, rolling a cigarette he never lights. Just something to keep his hands busy. He’s been with us long enough to be part of the damn walls—steady, sharp, knows every inch of this barn better than most.
He straightens when he sees us, tips his chin toward Hudson. “You must be the new boss around here.”
Hudson looks up at him, eyes narrowing like he’s trying to figure out if that’s a joke. “I am?”
Walker grins. “Depends. You got what it takes?”
Hudson squares his shoulders, puffing up like he’s got something to prove. “Yeah.”
Walker sticks out his hand, and Hudson grabs it without hesitation. “Hell of a handshake,” Walker says, giving him a nod of approval.
Hudson turns to look at me, waiting to see if I caught that. I clap him on the shoulder. “You hear that? Might have to put you on payroll.”
We walk down the aisle, passing stalls of quarter horses, all muscle and shine. Some dozing. Some watching us like they know exactly who we are and why we’re here. Hudson can’t stop looking, taking it all in with wide eyes like he’s never seen anything better.
“There’s so many,” he says, spinning in a slow circle.
