Wild Hearts

Chapter Nine

The rooster's sharp crow slices through my dreams, yanking me from the remnants of last night's chaos, leaving a bitter taste of regret. I groan, burying my face in the pillow, the fabric damp with tears I did not know I had shed. I wish I could scrub away the memories of last night. "Please tell me it didn't happen," I whisper to Barbie, my forever-posed doll on the nightstand, but she just stares back at me, her plastic smile mocking my turmoil.

Reluctantly, I roll out of bed, the cold air biting at my skin as I slip into my worn work jeans and flannel, each piece feeling heavier than the last. As I step outside, the dampness wraps around me like a cold shroud, its chill creeping beneath my skin, mirroring the weight of my dread. The air is thick with the earthy scent of wet soil, and the sky looms overhead like a dark canvas, swollen gray clouds hanging heavy, their edges tinged with a reluctant light that fights to break through.

Each step toward the cows is a battle; the mud squelches beneath my boots, pulling me down, as if the earth yearns to drag me under, echoing my desire to disappear. The chill seeps through my clothes, raising goosebumps along my arms, and the wind bites at my face with a vicious sting. I push forward, but the oppressive atmosphere makes it hard to breathe, as if the storm has already begun to creep inside me.

Just then, I hear heavy footsteps pounding behind me. I turn to see Dad rushing toward me, his face a storm of worry and anger.

"There's a storm brewing," he barks, his voice jagged like the wind that howls around us, carrying a sense of urgency that tightens the air between us. "Don't start your chores yet. We're having a meeting."

He stops in front of me, his breath coming in short bursts, eyes sharp and piercing. For a moment, the world falls silent. His disappointment hangs over us like a thick fog, suffocating and inescapable, pressing down on my chest.

"Don't think this will make me forget you were out last night with God knows who," he says, and his words strike like a physical blow, twisting my stomach into knots. I open my mouth to defend myself, but the look on his face stops me cold. He is not done. With a sharp exhale, he adds, "We'll have a conversation about that later."

My throat tightens, and I nod, suppressing the urge to scream. The damp wind stings my skin, but it is nothing compared to the sting of his disapproval. I start to walk away, but his voice booms after me, low and foreboding, echoing like thunder rolling through the clouds.

"Oh, and Julia," he adds, his voice low and heavy, "I hope it's not that professor you are spending time with."

My heart skips a beat, a cold dread pooling in my chest. He does not know, yet somehow, it feels as if he does.

The barn is filled with the low hum of voices as we all gather inside, the air thick with the scent of hay and the tension of the impending storm. It seems everyone is here, even Preston. Our eyes meet across the room, and a sharp pang of guilt twists in my stomach. I manage a small, sad smile before quickly looking away, unable to hold his gaze.

Dad's voice cuts through the murmur, commanding and urgent. "We need to secure all the animals with enough food and water to last through the storm. The haystacks need to be tied down, and anything that can go flying needs to be locked up." He starts assigning tasks, his tone sharp, punctuated by the rumble of thunder outside.

"Preston," Dad says, his gaze flickering to me, "you'll help Julia secure the animals. I trust you both to handle this."

My heart races at the thought of being alone with Preston after last night. I nod, trying to mask my anxiety. Dad waves us away, but then he pulls Preston aside. I do not need to turn around to know Dad is about to lay down the law. I focus on gathering supplies, my stomach twisting as I feel Preston's eyes on me, concern etched on his features as he speaks with my father.