Freya

"..Pleasure, I'm sure.. Nice bike you've got out there, but I'm hoping you own a horse too," she said, her voice edged with challenge.

"I don't ride horses - though it seems like a cool hobby," he replied, and the weight of disappointment settled in her chest.

"So, if I may ask, what are your intentions for buying this place? Planning to invest, make a shitload of money?"

He scoffed, a bitter sound. "I've seen the numbers. This place isn't exactly a goldmine."

Her pulse pounded louder in her ears.

"So, you're tearing it down, then? Wiping out a community, a home for many hearts, a legacy that's been here for nearly sixty years?"

"Nothing personal against you or your hobby," he said, and her blood boiled.

"It's not a hobby. It's a sport," she snapped.

"A sport, then."

"What are you going to use the land for?"

"I'm turning it into a space for motorsport culture - motocross tracks, mostly."

She bit her lip, first lightly, then harder. The struggle to keep her emotions in check was slipping away. "So it's settled then? You're just going to tear down our home and the horses' home tomorrow?"

"The process isn't that simple. It'll take time. But... is it you two who live in that run-down red house?"

She clenched her jaw. "Yeah. That's us."

A short laugh escaped him, paired with a smile that felt like a slap. "Looks like we'll be working closely together then, since we're going to be neighbors."

Fuck.

"You're moving into the main house?"

"Mhm. The moving truck's coming tonight," he said, running a hand through his dark hair. "Any chance you two could give me a tour of the place?"

"Why the hell would we even-"

"I can give you one," Danielle interrupted, her voice unnervingly calm.

Freya's eyes widened, shock and betrayal flashing across her face. She shot her best friend a don't-you-dare look, giving a sharp shake of her head. But it was no use. Danielle gestured toward the stable doors, and the bastard walked out first, Danielle trailing behind.

Freya stood frozen, the weight of reality crashing into her, heavy and nauseating.

She knew exactly why she'd reacted so strongly to him. There was a reason for it - the fact that he was their age, looked the way he did, and carried himself with that infuriating confidence. If she'd been dealing with an older man or a woman, she probably wouldn't have snapped so hard. But her heart refused to settle, and she was certain this was just the beginning.

Nova was still in the paddock. She grabbed a bag of hay and carried it over to him, sinking down to watch as he contentedly ate. More than once, she wished they spoke the same language. Maybe he'd have some good advice. Freya had always found it easier to form deep bonds with animals than with people. Danielle was the only exception.

The rhythmic sound of Nova chewing was comforting. Around her, other riders of the stable made their way to the paddocks and enclosures, bringing in their horses to train and then turning them out again. Freya stayed there for over an hour - and still, Danielle hadn't returned.

With a sigh, she led Nova back to his enclosure, gave him a gentle pat, and turned toward the house.

The front door had barely been shut for ten seconds before it flew open again and Danielle walked in. Freya shot her a glare, judgment simmering in her eyes.

"Have you switched sides now?"

Danielle kicked off her riding boots and smacked her lightly on the back of the head.

"Ow! What the hell was that for?" Freya snapped, rubbing her head.

"For thinking that about me after twenty years of friendship," Danielle retorted.

An involuntary smile curled at Freya's lips. "Sorry."

"I went with him to get some... well, inside info," Danielle said, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Turns out a smile and a few fluttered eyelashes can get you pretty far."

"Aaah - love you," Freya said, kissing her on the cheek.

"He's only three years older than us. Twenty-eight. Motorcycles and motocross are his life. And yeah, he's actually a world champion, which is kind of impressive, I guess. But anyway - he's dead set on tearing down the whole place to build his track. Oh, and get this - he's from here."

"What?" Freya's brow furrowed. "He grew up here? I don't remember his name." She searched her memory for any trace of him, but nothing clicked.

"Yeah, but he moved away ten years ago, so it makes sense we don't know him."

"Well, then we need to start planning," she said, determination hardening her voice. "Planning how to stop this shit from happening."

Seth

"Through that door, just place everything on the living room floor," he told the movers carrying in his things. He didn't have much, just the essentials he'd need to survive the next few months.

Stepping out onto the veranda, he noticed a few patio chairs already there. He sank into one and set an ashtray on the table beside him. The first drag of the cigarette burned pleasantly in his lungs, spreading warmth through his chest.

The sunset was starting to take shape, and he'd almost forgotten how beautiful they could be here. He took slow, steady drags, trying to quiet his restless thoughts.

Tom had called earlier, nagging about new contracts for upcoming races, but Seth couldn't deal with that right now. One project at a time. He'd tried to mention how nice the area was, but Tom, predictably, hadn't listened - just kept rambling about what he wanted.

Seth lit another cigarette, a craving for dark berries twisting in his gut.

With a glass in one hand, the bottle in the other, and the cigarette clamped between his lips, he returned to the veranda. The red wine burned down his throat, the heat a perfect balance to the nicotine.

It had been months since he'd been truly alone, without Tom breathing down his neck with constant demands. The peace here was almost disconcerting. He leaned back, taking in the view of the pasture where horses, both dark and light, grazed calmly.

He admitted to himself they were majestic creatures - but they couldn't come close to the horsepower he was used to.

"You know that can kill you," said the familiar snappy voice - though now, it was softer.

He saw the top of her head first before she stepped fully into view, climbing the small veranda steps.

"There are plenty of things that can kill you," he replied, a stream of smoke curling from his lips. "Just getting out of bed could kill you before the day's over."

She leaned against the railing, her hair fluttering gently in the breeze.

"I want to apologize for how I acted earlier today."

He forced a polite smile. "Apology acc-"

"And to give you a chance to back off before I make your life hell."

A short laugh escaped him, his eyes widening. "Damn - for someone who's barely a meter and a half tall, you've got some guts."

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm one meter fifty-eight, actually," she shot back, like she'd just scored a major point.

"Do your worst - I mean it. But I'm not going anywhere."

"Neither am I," she said before disappearing as quickly as she'd arrived.

He leaned his head back, taking another drag. She wasn't the only one with dreams, and he wasn't about to shove his aside to make strangers happy.