In barn clothes, Kat looks even younger than she did at The Hole in the Wall. Her black hair is scraped into a ponytail, her cheeks are exhaustion pale, and there’s a smudge of something green on her jacket. Horse slobber if I had to guess. I used to wear it all the time too.
She’s parked out by the work trucks, but hasn’t come in. She stands next to her little Civic, glancing over her shoulder like she’s scared someone’s going to spot her.
“Hey,” I say, crunching across the gravel toward her.
“Hey,” she whispers. Her eyes are glazed over with tears, and I hesitate. I’m so not good with crying.
“C’mon,” I say, ignoring the twinges riding up my leg. “Let’s take a walk. I’ll introduce you to Black Label and Only.”
In spite of her misery, Kat’s expression brightens at the offer to meet m
