𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐲 & 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

• 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝟏

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“𝑨 𝑵𝒆𝒘 𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝑰𝒏 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒖𝒔𝒕”

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The smell of fresh hay mixed with the pungent tang of manure filled the stable, the afternoon heat hanging heavy on my shoulders. My hands were calloused from gripping the rake, but I worked anyway, trying to keep my focus on the task at hand. It wasn’t like I had a choice. Life on the farm didn’t leave room for excuses.

I tossed another mound of straw into the wheelbarrow and leaned against the rake for a moment. Sweat trickled down my temple, sliding under my tank top, and I swiped it away with the back of my hand. My denim shorts clung to me like a second skin, and the black cowboy hat I wore did little to keep the sun off my shoulders. I was a mess, but at least I looked the part—a tan, boots caked in mud, and a belt buckle big enough to double as a mirror.

Solange worked a few feet away, humming some tune I didn’t recognize, her hands deftly brushing down a brown mare named Clementine. She always had this air about her, a kind of unshakable joy that made me roll my eyes half the time.

"You excited, Nic?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder at me.

I shrugged. "For what? Sweating my ass off in this oven of a barn?"

She laughed, that high, melodic laugh that I sometimes envied. "No, silly. Beyoncé’s coming home!"

I blinked, gripping the rake a little tighter. "Who the hell is Beyoncé?"

Solange turned to me, her wide brown eyes gleaming with a mix of surprise and amusement. Her long braids, tied up in a scarf, bounced as she tilted her head. "You’re joking, right? You’ve never heard of my sister?"

I frowned. "Solo, my daddy married your mom last year. If you’ve got a sister, she must’ve skipped the wedding. Never heard her name, never seen her face."

Solange sighed, her expression softening with a wistful smile. "She didn’t come to the wedding. Beyoncé left this place when she was eighteen. My parents divorced, and she went with Dad—Matthew—to France." She paused, brushing Clementine’s flank with long, even strokes. "That’s where she built her empire."

"Empire?" I asked, leaning on the rake.

"Yeah. Whiskey, cigars, music. She’s a force, Onika. Her name’s everywhere. But things got… messy recently, and she needs a break. So, she’s coming back here for a while."

I arched a brow, skeptical. "Messy, how?"

Solange hesitated, then said, "Her breakup with Jay-Z. It’s all over the news. She’s been dealing with a lot."

I scoffed. "Let me get this straight—your sister’s some kind of business mogul, living it up in France, and now she’s slumming it back here because her relationship went to hell?"