Storm at Stampede Ranch

The vitamin supplements rattled in Maya's pocket as she adjusted her flannel shirt—part of her desperate attempt to look like she belonged at Stampede Ranch. Three weeks into her summer exile from Chicago, and she still felt like a fraud in this dusty town where everyone knew how to ride horses before they could walk.

"You coming to the rodeo tonight?" Jake asked, leaning against the fence near the stables. His boots were actually worn, not bought from some boutique store like hers.

"Maybe," Maya said, trying to sound casual while her stomach did that thing it always did around him. "If I can finish my chores."

Her phone buzzed—another Instagram story from her friends back home, living their best lives at the lake house. She almost pulled out her iPhone to check it, but stopped herself. That's what the old Maya would do. The new Maya—the ranch version—was trying to be present.

"Old Man Miller's got his prize bull out back," Jake said, nodding toward the pasture. "Biggest one in the county. Bet you've never seen anything like it."

Maya followed his gaze to where a massive animal stood like a statue under the gathering clouds. The bull's shoulders rippled with power, its horns spreading like jagged lightning bolts against the darkening sky. Something about the way it stood there, unbothered by the approaching storm, made her chest tight.

"He's beautiful," she found herself saying.

Jake's eyebrows shot up. "Most girls are scared of him. But yeah, he's pretty awesome."

The first crack of thunder made them both jump. Maya had never liked storms—they were too loud, too unpredictable, too much like her emotions lately. But as rain started to fall in fat drops, Jake grabbed her hand.

"Come on!"

They ran toward the barn, boots squelching through mud, both of them laughing like idiots. The sky turned purple as lightning forked across the horizon, painting everything in stark black and white. For a second, Maya wasn't worrying about fitting in or missing home or whether Jake liked her. She was just running, holding someone's hand, completely alive.

They collapsed onto hay bales inside the barn, breathless and soaked. The storm roared outside, but in here, everything smelled like rain and dust and Jake's cologne.

"So," Jake said, wiping rain from his forehead, "you still think you might come to the rodeo?"

Maya's iPhone buzzed again in her pocket. She didn't even check it. "Definitely," she said. "I'll be there."

Outside, the bull stood his ground in the pouring rain. Some things, Maya realized, didn't need to change to be strong. They just were.