Seth

He popped open an ice-cold beer and took a long sip. The crisp taste washed over him, grounding him after the day he'd had. Lighting a cigarette, he took a deep drag, letting the burn settle in his lungs. It was deserved—earned, even. He couldn't deny it: he was impressed. She'd gotten on the bike, ridden it, and kept going despite her obvious fear. That was something.

Lighting another cigarette, this one balancing perfectly with the bitterness of his beer, he let himself relax—at least for a moment. But the peace didn't last long. His phone rang, and the name flashing on the screen was the last one he wanted to see.

"Can't you just back out of this deal, Seth? Please. You've got a few weeks to cancel the agreement—get out while you can," came Tom's voice, sharp and persistent on the other end.

"Why the hell are you so obsessed with this? Can't you just mind your own damn business?" Seth snapped, already tired of the same argument. He hated feeling like his every decision was being questioned.

"If you back out now, the investors won't care. But if you go through with this and screw it up—which you will—they'll cut you off for good. This isn't a game, Seth."

"If you had just a little faith in me, maybe you wouldn't need to stress so much. Seriously, take care of your heart—you don't want to risk heart failure," Seth bit back, sarcasm dripping from his words.

"You've always needed to tear people down to feel better about yourself. It's going to bite you in the ass one day," Tom retorted, his tone venomous.

"Hah, says the king of tearing people down! That's rich coming from you."

"Back out. I mean it," Tom said, and the line went dead.

Tom had always been a bastard. And after Seth's mother died, his father only got worse—angrier, colder, harder to deal with. Seth had always known the man had narcissistic tendencies, but without his mother's steady presence, it was like the worst parts of him had been unleashed.

This project was the first thing Seth had ever done entirely on his own, without his father hovering in the background.

He shook his head slowly, trying to shake off the overthinking. There was no way in hell he was letting Tom dictate his life. Not anymore.

Seth sighed, dragging hard on his cigarette as the two women walked out of the stable, their laughter grating against his already frayed nerves. He called out, his voice laced with mock cheer. "Hey!" He waved, smirking when they hesitated before turning toward him.

"Come have a drink," he said, raising his beer like an afterthought.

"No thanks. Mixing business and pleasure is a bad idea," Freya replied curtly, her tone sharp enough to draw blood.

His smirk didn't falter. "Of course, because you're so professional." He let the sarcasm drip. "But Danielle, you seem like someone who knows how to have a good time."

Danielle grinned, shooting Freya a glance. "I do have a reputation for never turning down free alcohol."

Freya rolled her eyes, her expression sour. "Fine," she said, her tone clipped. "But only because I don't want Danielle to feel awkward." She shot her friend a pointed look, earning a triumphant smile in return.

God, she's insufferable, Seth thought, but deep down, he knew the truth. I can't stand her, but she's one of the only two people in this hellhole I can actually talk to. It irritated him more than he wanted to admit.

"What have you got to drink?" Danielle asked as she climbed the steps to the veranda.

"Plenty of beer," Seth replied, taking a sip of his own.

"I don't like beer," Freya muttered as she followed reluctantly.

"Of course you don't," Seth said, his voice full of mock pity. "What, too strong for you? Or do you just prefer drinks that come with tiny umbrellas?"

Freya's glare was immediate and sharp. "Says the guy who can't stay on a horse without eating dirt. Should I bring you some reins for your next ride?"

"She loves red," Danielle broke in with a smirk.

Seth turned his gaze to Freya, his smile turning cold. "Ah, of course. Red wine. So predictable. Let me guess—one glass, and you're tipsy enough to start crying about your feelings?"

Freya narrowed her eyes, stepping closer. "I'd rather cry over wine than drown my insecurities in beer and cigarettes."

He barked a laugh, taking another drag. "At least I own my insecurities. You just hide yours behind all that fake bravado. It's almost cute."

Freya's jaw tightened, but Danielle interjected before she could snap back. "Let's all just focus on the free drinks, yeah?"

Seth leaned back against the railing, watching Freya as she crossed her arms tightly. Like it or not, she's the closest thing I have to company out here. What a fucking joke.

Freya

Freya jabbed her elbow into Danielle's side while Seth was inside fetching their drinks, her tone sharp as a blade. "What the hell? Stop being so fucking nice to him."

Danielle rolled her eyes as she sank into one of the veranda chairs. "What's your problem?"

"My problem?" Freya scoffed, her voice rising. "Hello? He's planning to bulldoze our stable—destroy our whole life. Or am I the only one who gives a fuck about that?"

Danielle shot her a look, her voice soft but firm. "It's not set in stone yet, is it? You might pull this off."

Freya let out a bitter laugh. "Might? You think I'm magically going to master that stupid bike? Let's be real—this place is as good as gone."

Danielle leaned forward, her voice hardening. "Enough, Freya. You don't know that. You've surprised me before—you might just surprise yourself. And until then, can you let me enjoy one goddamn drink? Even if it's with him."

Freya's eyes narrowed into slits. "Is this about him? What, you want him or something?"

Danielle threw up her hands, exasperated. "Jesus, Freya, no. I just want to have a fucking drink for once without listening to you complain about the same thing over and over."

Freya blinked, startled by the rare edge in Danielle's voice.

"When was the last time we did anything remotely fun?" Danielle continued, her voice softening. "I get it. You're pissed, but I'm tired, okay? I want one night where we don't talk about the stable or Seth or this bet."

Freya let out a sharp laugh. "You're that desperate for alcohol?"

"Yeah, I am," Danielle shot back, crossing her arms. "And honestly? You probably need it more than I do."

Freya stared at her for a moment before sighing and sinking into the chair beside her. "Fine. I'll do my best to be tolerable Freya," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

Danielle's grin widened as Seth returned with drinks in hand.

"Here you go," he said, setting down a beer for Danielle and a glass of wine for Freya. His voice was polite, but his smirk gave him away.

Freya muttered a quiet thanks, taking a small sip of her wine as Seth settled back with his own drink.

"See? You're already loosening up," Danielle teased, nudging her friend.

Seth leaned back, lighting a cigarette and letting the smoke curl lazily in the air. Freya's eyes flicked to him, irritation already building.

"Give me one," she said, holding out her hand.

Seth raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "You? You don't smoke."

"I do occasionally," she replied, snapping her fingers impatiently. "Now, hand it over."

"Occasionally?" He laughed, taking a drag. "Sure. I bet you also 'occasionally' take risks and 'occasionally' have fun."

Danielle reached over and grabbed the cigarette pack, handing it to Freya. "She does," Danielle said, clearly amused.

Freya lit the cigarette and took a long drag, exhaling smoothly. "See? Not that it's any of your business."

Seth's smirk deepened. "It's just surprising, that's all. You—Little Miss Stable Routine—doing anything outside your comfort zone? Didn't think you had it in you."

"And you? The guy whose only personality trait is being reckless and annoying? Didn't think you'd bother noticing."

His laugh was low, almost mocking. "Oh, I've noticed, Lynn. You live in this tiny world and think you've got it all figured out. It's sad, really."

Her grip tightened around her glass. "And yet, you're the one drinking beer with us in this 'tiny world.' What does that say about you?"

"Maybe I'm just killing time. Or maybe I like seeing how far people can go before they realize they're stuck."

Freya's jaw clenched, her voice dropping. "I'm not stuck. I know exactly where I am, and I'm happy with it. Not that you'd understand."

"That's the lie you tell yourself to make it easier," Seth said, his voice quieter but sharper, like a blade twisting. "Deep down, you're just scared to try something new. Scared to fail."

"Right," she said with a bitter laugh. "Because drinking and chain-smoking your way through life is so brave. You're really showing me how it's done."

"Okay, more drinks!" Danielle cut in, her voice loud and forced as she poured wine into Freya's glass and cracked open another beer for Seth.

Freya cast one last icy glance at Seth before focusing back on her drink. She refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, but his words lingered, cutting deeper than she cared to admit.