Under the Dusty Sky (Holloway Farms)

distance from Hunter’s truck, and my chest tightens to the point it hurts. I hear the words of my mother.
    When happy is sad…
    I miss Hunter already.
    Hopping on my favorite four-wheel, I try to push my brother from my mind.
    “ I wouldn’t, Graceland,” Archer yells, or maybe it’s Asher.
    “ Dad’s gunna be pissed,” says the other. I can only tell them apart when I’m looking at them.
    I ignore them and gun the engine, squeezing the throttle with my thumb. The wind whips around me as the quad lurches forward, and I squint my eyes into the bright noon sun.
    It takes no time at all to make it to the end of the long driveway and look both ways down the empty gravel road that leads to town, somewhere just over the south horizon.
    There’s nothing but flat fields and open road. The tires spit gravel as I steer the quad in the direction of the barn. Standing up, I lift one hand from the handlebars and pull the small elastics that hold my braids in place. The wind pulls my hair loose. The strands sting as they whip around my head and slap against the skin of my neck, cheeks and shoulders. I love the quad. I love the freedom, the speed, the control. If only I could drive a real car.
    One month.
    One month, and I can get my license. One month, and I can have my own freedom. Only one problem. I don’t know how to drive. I broke my car trying.
    Okay, two problems.
    I shake my head wildly as I speed down the empty dirt road to the barn. Leaning forward over the handle bars, I scream as loud as I can, as long as I can, because I can. The sound is sucked into the roar of the engine and swallowed up by the open sky. The pain in my chest loosens a little. My favorite part about living on the farm is the space. I’m a mile out and still on our land, only halfway to the stables. The sky is pure blue, stretched out to the horizon in every direction. The wind is warm against my skin, sinking into my muscles and relaxing me a bit more. I slow down and turn onto the long path that leads to the stable and to my horse, Belle. It’s a ridiculous name, I know, but I got her when I was nine and watched Beauty and the Beast like three times a day.
    I stop the quad, cutting the engine but leaving the keys, and hop off. My cowboy boots, which I only wear riding or working, kick up the dry sun baked earth all around me as I make my way to the side of the cracked red barn.
    I round the corner expecting Belle, but I’m greeted by…
    Abs?
    Thick, corded, perfectly defined man-abs. I stop and so does my heart. I have to swallow hard to keep it from popping right out of my mouth.
    I’m not sure what kind of face belongs to these abs. Or why these abs are in my stable yard. Whoever he is, he’s wiping his forehead with the bottom of a dirty white shirt.
    I clear my throat, and the guy jumps, dropping his filthy shirt and staring at me with ice blue eyes from under thick dark eyebrows. His wild dark hair is tangled around his face and soaked in sweat. His lips are thick, angular, and pressed together to complete his frown. He kind of looks like Black Beauty, but with insanely blue eyes.
    Why am I comparing this guy to a horse? Because he’s beautiful and sleek and glistening…and now he’s grinning.
    I realize I’m staring and narrow my eyes. I never gawk.
    “ Who are you?” I ask, crossing my arms in front of my tattered plaid button up. Suddenly I’m wishing I was in my little blue sundress and wedge heels that make me look thinner, and taller.
    And older.
    Ice Eyes scans me slowly, and it makes me jittery. I’m used to this reaction from guys. Just not in this outfit. I tighten my crossed arms and shift my weight from one foot to the other, digging my boot heel into the cracked earth.
    “ I might ask you the same thing?” His voice is smooth and deep and makes my ankles wobble. He’s not my age. No guy in my school looks like this.
    But he can’t be too much older.
    “ Graceland Holloway. This is my father’s farm.” I cringe as my country accent comes out as clear as ringing a bell in an empty church.
    I bite my lip, and he cocks his head to one side. I try so hard to keep this country farm girl side of me hidden, but sometimes it just can’t be stopped. This lifestyle, the one Daddy loves so much, is one of the reasons Mom left us, and I try to keep the country girl locked up. Especially around strangers.
    I reach out my hand, and Ice Eyes takes a step toward me. I probably shouldn’t be shaking a stranger’s