By the time the sun rose the next week, the shine of being “the new girl” had worn off. No one looked twice at me in the kitchen anymore. Clara just passed me in the halls, her salt and pepper curls flipping in my face.

Sierra had already gone to drop off her kids, Rio and Liam, at their dad’s. Noah whistled out the door like he was late for something. Weston didn’t even glance at me—though maybe that was nothing new.

The house felt heavier without conversation, without anyone explaining what to do. The excitement of Sunset’s foal had already settled into routine. Feed Bug. Bottle, rinse, repeat. Scoop manure. Hose down the stalls. Work until my body ached, but still feel like I’d done nothing right.

I leaned against the shovel, dust already caking to the back of my throat, and thought about Sierra’s words again: How do you expect people to care about you if you won’t let anyone in?

Dust settled on the barn floor the same way it seemed to be settling on me—layer after layer, hiding whatever shine I still had left.

Sierra thought I was doing something right, at least.  That, or else she was an amazing actress. The dance was already tonight. When I decided to go last week, it felt like I’d have so much time, more than this. But that time was almost through, each second ticking down on the clock to my doom. A social event? In what world did I think that word and I could be together again? And all for a newborn horse? My brain, as of late, spiraled as I continued my routine.  

As I scavenged through the cabinet for Bug’s milk, I found, near the back, an old radio. Pulling it out, I turned it on. Some grunge rock music blasted through the old speakers, as I got brought to a different time. A better time. 

When was the last time I’d used one of these? I hadn’t seen one since 18, that I knew. After moving out, I’d left most items that were Mom’s for Chris to deal with. I was done doing anything for him. The last time I used one was when my mom was alive. And the last time I heard this song was the same. My eyes went glossy, but the tears wouldn’t come when I thought of mom. Thinking about her when she was alive and healthy seemed more like a saving light at the end of the tunnel. Thinking about dad when he was healthy, though, made me wish he were better. Wish Clara was better. 

I felt my body rocking to the music, my brain slowly losing its momentum, and my only thoughts were of the music and making Bug’s milk. 

So, of course, when Sierra came up behind me and screamed “Boo!” I almost died in fear.

I struggled to get my words together as I fell to my knees and leaned on the counter under the cabinet. “I thought you were... dropping your kids off...”

When I finally looked up at her, she was grinning ear to ear. “Oh, you're so cute, Haven! I just got back.” She grabbed my arms and hoisted me up as I felt a blush brighten my cheeks and ears. Getting called cute by this person felt different. Warm in my chest, soft on my heart. Not like when Demsi said it, when our faces were smothered by makeup and we paraded Los Angeles in six-inch heels and grins as fake as our faces. It wasn’t like when Ray said it after I did something for him. After I cleared his schedule, got us a night at some fancy restaurant, did something to deserve his compliments. As Sierra berated me about the barn dance, my eyes wandered to my clothes, automatically looking for why I deserved said compliment. It was nothing different than usual, just a simple fitted shirt and jeans, along with some heels, a bad choice for today. My hair was boring and straight, sunglasses rested atop it. 

“...So when you come, just wear you’re cutest cowgirl outfit and dancing boots!” Sierra finished her rant right as I’d begun listening. 

“Dancing boots?” I paled as light as a Victorian ghost. “I won’t be dancing! I only agreed–”

“To go to a barn dance?” She raised an eyebrow. “Why else do you think Weston was so resistant? He was probably nervous to dance with you!”

I felt my white as a ghost cheeks heat and show up brighter than a cherry. He thinks I want to dance with him?! “We still have to do the date thing?”

“Come on, be excited!” Sierra clapped her hands together. “Don’t you miss it?”

“Miss what? Dating?” I shivered.

 She shook her head. “Oh, you know,” Sierra actually seemed to get sheepish. “Being in the city? Prancing around like the gals in ‘Clueless’!”

She managed to get a grin out of me. “Isn’t Clueless in Beverly Hills?” My heart ached, my smile falling as I thought about that. That’s where he proposed. In Beverly Hills. “I lived in L.A. Sierra.”

She waved her hand at me. “It’s all the same! Besides, you get what I mean. Pretty girls in pretty clothes.”

“What does this have to do with dancing again?” 

She scoffed. “Didn’t you go dancing in California, Haven?”

Of course I did. At the bar, me, Ray and Demsi would always go out on the floor, rocking along to the off-key karaoke so late into night that it was physically painful to get out of bed just a few hours later and film a new video. Demsi was our cameragirl, I sat to the side, already editing new footage, and Ray was Ray. Then we’d go out and do it again. 

I shrugged. “Yeah.”

She smiled. “Just be careful, Weston might step on your feet, he only ever danced with Charlie!”

My eyes widen. “Who’s—”

The two of us heard a loud slam as the barn door was thrown open, both of us walking out of the stall to the center of the building.

Sally stood there, a bright blue bandana atop her short blonde tufts of hair. “Sierra said you need a dress, Haven?” 

“I never said I–”

Sierra squealed and ran up to Sally. Man, was I getting interrupted today. Walking up to them, my mind spiraled. Who was Charlie? Someone Weston danced with, someone he trusted? Why did the name make my chest feel too tight?

I cleared my mind and looked at the two to realize they were staring. At me. “Haven, you look sickly without any color on your body.”

I stood there, mortified. Sickly? “What?”

“Maybe some soft pastels would do you good.” Sierra gently grabbed my hand and pulled me closer for something of an examination. “Lavender, dusty pink, powder blue, and pale yellow would do wonders for your skin!”

Sally nodded. “Or jewel tones? Sapphire, ruby, or emerald green would be spectacular!”

“I don’t need a dress!” I stammered, going red at the very pointed attention._ _“You’re right, Sierra, I have a ton, so–”

But after getting dragged out of the barn and into Sally’s Chevrolet, stuck between the two like a tightly packed sandwich, I knew there was no escaping it. 

“How long will this take? I don’t think Clara will like us gone all day, especially if we’re leaving tonight anyway!” The words felt slimy in my mouth as I said it. In reality, I wanted nothing more than distance between me and her, but not at the cost of some girls' day. I guess heels were a good choice.

“Texted her already! We’re free to be out tonight!” Sierra said, face glowing blue as she looked down at her phone to my left. In some horrible twist, she reminded me of Demsi. I saw her two ways. Face in a phone or with a filter. 

Sally, to my right, was driving, grinning from ear to ear. “Takes around 40 minutes to get to the town. Haven’t you gone to it yet?”

I shook my head. “I haven’t left the ranch since arrival.” 40 minutes? I have to sit in this car for that long?

“What!?” She practically screamed, and Sierra looked up from her phone, beaming. “We get to give you a Town tour!?!”

“I don’t need a tour, I have Google Maps, guys, don’t—“

“Oh, you are getting that tour, babes.” Sally winked at me. “Once Sierra has her mind on something, she’ll do it.”

“Like the barn dance?” I paused. “Why aren’t you going, anyway?”

She smiled warmly at me. “I’m babysitting for Sierra that night, and I have a husband; I don’t need to find a soulmate.”

“What?” 

Sierra sighed. “I guess I have to tell you now. Thanks, Sally.” She said with faux enthusiasm. “When you go to a barn dance, you go to find a date.”

I stare at her. “And you set me up with Weston?”

“Haven, you keep saying his name like that. I’m convinced you already like him. Besides, he told me about that time when you almost fainted and he helped y—“

Now it was my turn to interrupt. “Sierra! I stress his name when I say it because he obviously doesn’t like me!” The tension in this car was so smothering, I started getting queasy. “You’re already expecting me to dance with him, but it's not a date! I can’t date! Never! You get it?” 


I wasn’t screaming when I said it. I never screamed. But my words carried enough conviction and finality with the matter that the car went silent, the only sound Y2K pop blaring through the speakers. 

The car went silent, and the sudden quiet was a punch to the gut. My heart hammered against my ribs as I replayed my words, the finality of them echoing in the space between us. Why did I say that? The question screamed in my head. I had broken my own rule, had shown them the ugly, panicked part of myself that I kept locked away. I looked at Sierra's phone and Sally's hands on the wheel, but I couldn't bear to meet their eyes. I had done it again. Pushed them away. Proved to myself that there was something fundamentally broken about me, and that no matter how hard I tried, I would never fit.

“God, sorry.” I rub my head. “I think I’ve been having a migraine. Maybe we could head back so–”

“Totally get it.” Sally patted my shoulder, nodding, and totally falling for the obvious lie. Or yet again, these girls both have the best acting skills I’d seen. “You need a spa day.”

I blinked, wondering if I heard her right. “A… spa? Here? In Tucson?”

“Sure!” Sierra grinned. “Great idea, Sally!”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, Haven,” Sierra stared at me seriously. “I promise, it’ll be the best massage ever.”

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