Page 78 of Holding Hope

“Not a chance,” I said instantly, matching her smile. “Hey… I’m sorry you have to sell one of your horses.”

Her smile vanished. She turned away, brushing Apollo’s coat with renewed focus. “Wow, thanks for ruining the mood,” she muttered. Louder, she added, “Artemis isn’t mine. And I’m not upset she’s getting sold. I just wish she were going to someone who knows how to care for her.”

I chewed my lip, trying to understand. If the new owners had horses before, wouldn’t that be good? But I didn’t know how deep Clarke’s bond with Artemis ran. Maybe this did feel like the end of the world.

“Maybe once you meet them, you’ll change your mind,” I offered gently. “When are they coming? I’m assuming they’ll come themselves.”

“Pelican Fly Day,” she said, returning the brushes to their bins. She pulled out a dark green waterproof blanket and slipped it over Apollo’s head, smoothing it down his neck. “A few years ago someone decided an auction would help fund the town, and I guess the tradition stuck.”

I watched her fasten each strap and buckle with meticulous care. She moved with a kind of reverence—like Apollo was something sacred.

I glanced out the stable door. The sky was a perfect, cloudless blue.

“Do you think it’s going to rain?” I asked. “I’m no meteorologist, but I think clouds are usually required.”

Clarke laughed softly. “I’ve lived here my whole life, Avalon. I can feel it in my bones when it’s about to rain.”

“Yeah?” I teased, stepping aside as she exited the stall. “What else do your bones tell you?”

She shot me a look over her shoulder, a smile carved into her features. “Lately they’ve been telling me that you’re annoying.”

“But did you really need your bones to figure that out?”

“No,” she laughed. “And it’s my bones, not my entire body.”

Rolling my eyes, I followed her as she finished her nightly chores. With the season shifting, darkness came earlier, and everything had to be done sooner.

“Do your bones tell you something different from the rest of your body?” I asked.

Clarke froze. One hand held a measuring cup of grain; the other rested on Hestia’s stall door.

“Yes,” she whispered. She dumped the grain quickly, as if the sound could drown out the confession.

“About me?” I asked quietly.

She moved down the row, filling buckets as if she hadn’t heard me. It wasn’t until she reached the last stall that she finally answered.

“Yes.”

A small word. Barely a sound. But it meant everything. There was a battle happening inside her—between her head, her heart, her bones—and I was at the center of it.

There was something about the way Avalon was staring at me that made it nearly impossible to meet her eyes. Her gaze had always been intense—powerful—but now it was something else entirely. Imploring. Searching. Like she was trying to read every thought I’d ever had.

“What does your body tell you?” she asked quietly.

My eyes snapped up from the floor, meeting hers before I could stop myself.

“I think you know,” I murmured, turning away and putting the feed bucket back where it belonged. The ranch hands had already prepped the rest of the horses for the storm — coats, blankets, everything in place. All that was left was the ache in my chest.

“Tell me.” Avalon caught my wrist, spinning me around and pulling me toward her. Her cool gaze swept across my face, searching for an answer I wasn’t ready to give. “Remind me again.”

“Avalon, please.”

The protest came out weak—embarrassingly weak. I didn’t want to talk about what I was feeling. Not now. Not when I was so close to losing one of my oldest friends.

Artemis had been in my father’s stables longer than most of the Deity Horses. She’d been just a filly when she arrived — all wobbly legs and frightened whinnies. It had been love at first sight. The most secure bond I’d ever known.

And now my father was selling her. To some rich politician from New York.