The bed is cold when I wake.
My hand reaches across the sheets before my eyes open, searching for warmth that isn't there. Jake's side lies empty—pillow still dented from where his head rested, fabric carrying the faint scent of cedar and leather.
He held me through the night. I remember that much. His heartbeat beneath my cheek. His arms wrapped around me like armor against the grief that had finally broken loose.
But he left before morning.
The distance between us remains uncrossed. One step forward, two steps back. A dance we've been performing since Manhattan, neither of us brave enough to stop the music.
I press my palm against the cold sheets and let myself feel the hollow space his absence carves in my chest.
Then I force myself to get up. I pull myself together and head to the kitchen in search of some refreshment.
Breakfast is already underway when I reach the kitchen. Tommy stands at the stove, flipping pancakes with theatrical flair while Paige watches with something close to adoration.
Violet lounges at the table, phone in hand, looking bored in that calculated way she's perfected.
Zachary sits across from her, coffee cup balanced elegantly between his fingers. His eyes find mine the moment I enter.
Jake doesn't look up from his plate.
"There she is." Tommy grins over his shoulder. "Pancakes are almost ready. I'm thinking we go for a group ride today. Along the river. Weather's perfect."
"This isn't a resort." Jake's voice comes out flat, tired. He still won't meet my eyes.
"Maybe it should be." Tommy sets a plate of pancakes on the table with a decisive thump. "Pleasure should be the point of all this, boss. We've got guests. Beautiful morning. Horses that could use the exercise."
"He's right." Paige's voice is soft but certain. "A trail ride sounds wonderful."
Violet sets down her phone, interest flickering. "I suppose fresh air might be tolerable."
I settle into my chair, reaching for coffee I probably shouldn't drink. The nausea lurks at the edges of my awareness, waiting.
"Fine." Jake pushes back from the table, jaw tight. "We ride in an hour. Everyone saddles their own horse."
He leaves without another word. I watch him go and try not to feel the distance widening with every step.
And I also think that maybe I shouldn't get on the horse, but that would be too suspicious. I'm constantly dodging something, trying to keep my secret.
But I can admit one thing: I missed being back in the saddle.
The river trail stretches ahead, dappled sunlight filtering through cottonwood branches. My mare moves with easy patience beneath me, and for a few blessed minutes, I almost feel like myself.
Tommy and Paige ride close ahead, their horses drifting together like magnets. Their laughter carries back on the breeze, light and uncomplicated in ways that make my chest ache.
Violet has maneuvered her horse toward Zachary, testing her charm on a new target. I catch fragments of her voice—honey-sweet, deliberately fascinated—and feel something like relief that her attention has shifted.
Jake leads the group, his posture rigid in the saddle. He hasn't spoken to me since breakfast.
Hoofbeats draw closer. Zachary appears at my side, his voice dropping low.
"How are you feeling?" The question carries weight it shouldn't. "You didn't eat much this morning."
"I'm fine." The words come out sharper than I intend.
"You don't look fine." He keeps his voice carefully quiet. "The exhaustion. The nausea you keep hiding. I'm worried, Adison."
"Then stop worrying." I grip the reins tighter, knuckles whitening. "Your constant questions are exhausting me more than anything else."
Zachary's jaw tightens, but he doesn't retreat. "Only Maria and I know your secret. That makes me responsible for watching over you whether you want it or not."
"I don't want it."
"Have you considered the risks?" His gaze cuts toward my mare, then back to my face. "Horse riding during early pregnancy isn't exactly recommended. Falls, sudden movements, the strain on your body—"
"I know the risks." The hiss escapes through clenched teeth. "I'm not an idiot, Zachary. I know exactly what I'm risking."
"Then why—"
"Because I can't hide in my room for the next seven months." I force the words out low and furious. "Because people will notice if I suddenly stop doing everything I've always done. Because right now, acting normal is the only protection I have."
Zachary falls silent. Something almost like understanding moves behind his eyes.
"I'm trying to help." His voice softens. "That's all I've ever wanted."
"Help by backing off." I urge my mare forward, putting distance between us. "I'll tell Jake when I'm ready. Until then, this stays between us."
Jake leads us into a shaded grove where the light turns green and gold. The temperature drops beneath the canopy, cool air brushing my overheated skin.
Ahead, Tommy says something that makes Paige laugh. Violet's voice drifts from somewhere behind me, still working her angles with Zachary.
I let my mare slow, breathing in the quiet. The peace feels fragile. Borrowed.
The explosion comes without warning.
Something bursts from the underbrush—a blur of movement, a crash of branches. My mare screams and bolts sideways, her body lurching beneath me with violent force.
I grab for the saddle horn. Miss.
The world spins. Sky and ground trading places in a sickening spiral. I hear someone shouting my name—Jake's voice, maybe, or Tommy's—but the sound stretches and distorts.
Then my head strikes something solid.
Pain detonates behind my eyes. White-hot and blinding. My shoulder wrenches at an angle that sends agony ripping through my chest.
I'm falling. Still falling. The ground rushes up to meet me.
Darkness swallows everything.
The last thing I register is my hand moving instinctively—clutching my stomach, cradling the secret growing inside me, trying to protect something I haven't figured out how to want.
Then there's nothing at all.