Wild Hearts

Chapter Eleven

⚠️Advisory: This chapter contains explicit content and themes of self-exploration. Reader discretion is advised.⚠️

I take one last steadying breath, pushing the thoughts away as I step around piles of boxes and hay. My heart pounds in my chest, a wild rhythm that matches the chaos inside my head. Dad's voice is growing louder, and I know I cannot afford to keep him waiting.

But as I pass by Preston, my skin tingles where our bodies brushed, and for a split second, I stop. His presence is magnetic, drawing me back with a force I do not want to acknowledge. His eyes catch mine, and the unsaid things between us feel like they are pulsing in the space between us—desire, confusion, and a fear of what this could mean.

I force my legs to keep moving, knowing Dad is just inside the barn, his boots echoing against the wooden floor.

Suddenly, he emerges from the other side of the haystacks, his figure cutting through the dim light, a quiet storm in the way he looks at me. He is too close—so close I can almost feel the heat of his body on mine again.

His voice is soft but firm, almost a whisper. "Julia."

I freeze for just a moment, caught between the pull of what is growing between us and the weight of my father's presence in the barn. I should leave. I should go.

But there is something about the way he says my name—something that has my heart skipping a beat and my pulse racing. His eyes are intense, searching mine for something I cannot name, but it is too much. Too fast.

"Preston, I—" I wish I could say it feels like a relief. But it does not. It feels like I have just left something behind.

"Julia." Dad's voice cuts through the barn, sharp but steady.

I turn to see him walking toward me, his expression unreadable but his posture tense. Something in his movements tells me he knows what just happened between Preston and me, or maybe he just senses it. Either way, I am not sure I am ready for another confrontation.

"You all right?" he asks, his gaze moving over me with a touch of concern.

I nod quickly, unable to meet his eyes for long. "Yeah. Just... cold."

We walk toward the house in silence, the crunch of gravel underfoot filling the space between us. When we reach the front porch, Dad pauses and turns toward the barn, where Preston is still likely standing in the shadows, watching us.

I glance back at him, and sure enough, Preston is still there, standing just outside the barn's doorway, his silhouette barely visible in the dim light.

Dad does not say anything for a moment, just studies Preston for a moment longer than necessary, his jaw tight. Then he clears his throat and calls out. "Preston!"

The sound of his name breaks through the silence, and I feel Preston tense at the sound of my father's voice.

Preston steps forward, not quite close enough but still within earshot. "Yeah?"

Dad looks him over, his eyes narrowing slightly, but there is something else there too—respect? "You should head out before the rain picks up, son. It is going to get worse before nightfall, and you have done enough for the day. Appreciate your help, but it is best to get home before dark. Stay safe."

Preston meets my father's gaze for a long moment, then glances at me, the unspoken words between us still heavy in the air. He looks almost reluctant to leave, but I see him nod, accepting the words for what they are.

"I'll head out then," Preston says, his voice low, and he gives me one last look, eyes dark and unreadable. "Take care, Julia."

He turns and walks away, heading for his truck parked by the barn.