Sophia woke up early.

She rolled over, squinting at the alarm clock. 6:47 a.m. September sunshine streamed into the room, illuminating the wood-paneled walls and throw quilts. Next to her, Tabby's bed was empty, the blanket neatly dog-eared.

Sophia went through the usual steps. Lemon water. Yoga. Shower. Cleanse, moisturize, sunscreen. She skipped the run today — mostly because she was terrified of accidentally veering into a pen filled with angry bulls bent on turning her into a human doormat — but she did a quick set of crunches.

She lay on the floor, staring up at the ceiling.

First day of classes, Sophia thought.

She tried to be excited. Really, she did. But her whole body was tense, stretched taught like a rubber band. Eventually, Sophia rolled on to her stomach, pulling out her phone and scrolling to her girls' group chat.

Okay, Sophia wrote, so I'm literally terrified for my first day. Suggestions?

The responses were immediate.

You'll do great, Ella wrote. Don't stress. Love you xo

Have you tried a book? Ophelia suggested. Great for distracting yourself. AND you don't need to talk to people. Win-win.

Louise simply wrote, DOWN A MIMOSA.

Sophia smiled, pocketing the phone.

Well.

Some things never changed.

Sophia felt considerably better as she hurried down the stairs. The smell of sizzling bacon drifted up to her, accompanied by the sound of off-key humming. Grace, Tabby's mother, was standing near the stove, dressed in jeans and a flannel top.

"Sophia!" Grace smiled. "You're the last one up."

Sophia glanced at the clock incredulously, which now read 7:32 a.m. Good god. Did these people not sleep? She began to pull glasses from the cupboard, filling them with water. "Where's Tabby?"

"Out at the barn." Grace flipped over some bacon. "Poor John's been up all night with the sick mare."

Understanding dawned. "Did Tab go to check on him?"

She couldn't imagine why else Tabby would want to voluntarily wake up at the crack of dawn on a Monday and go straight to the barn. Grace paused in stacking the bacon on the plate, giving Sophia an odd look.

"She went to feed the horses," Grace said slowly. "She always does that. Then she exercises them."

"Before breakfast?"

"Five o'clock, every day," Grace confirmed, setting the bacon on the table. "Earlier, if it's a school day. It takes three hours to drive into Calgary."

Sophia sent a swift, silent thank-you to her mother for never giving in to young Sophia's demands every December for a pony. She went to chop the strawberries next, which were resting on a cutting board (Grace insisted upon a salad at every meal, and it was always fruit salad in the morning), but Grace shook her head.

"I can do that," Grace said. "You go fetch Tabby and John. Breakfast is getting cold."

"You don't need help?"

Grace shook her head. "Don't let them bring back any of the dogs, though," she warned. "I mean it; they'll track mud all over the house."

Sophia smiled. "Noted."

She followed the winding dirt path, shivering in the morning air. Green combines crawled through the endless stretches of golden fields, their motors humming in the stillness. Somewhere, a bird was singing. Sophia only paused when she reached the barn, looking down at the road dubiously. Metals bars were sunk into the ground, like some sort of bizarre, subterranean prison.

"Cattle grids," Tabby explained, making Sophia jump. "It keeps the cows off the road."

"You scared me!"

Tabby grinned. "Obviously."

She was sitting on top of an enormous black horse, her hands resting lightly on the reins. Sophia studied the creature warily. She didn't think it looked particularly dangerous, but then again, she had thought that about plugging her Canadian hair dryer into a socket in Paris, and now the Hôtel de Crillon had a suite with no electricity.

Tabby patted the horse on the neck.

"This is Thunder," she said fondly. "My main man."

Sophia shivered, stuffing her hands further into her pockets. "I don't know how thrilled your boyfriend would be to hear that."

"Leo knows his place," Tabby said.

"He doesn't get jealous?"

Tabby shook her head. "He knows that I love Thunder more than him; it's hardly a surprise." She slid off the horse, landing lightly on her toes. "You should get yourself a wholesome farm boy, Soph. Try it out for a bit."

Sophia pulled a face. "Unlikely."

"It might make the press back off."

"So would a few well-aimed blow darts," Sophia pointed out. "But we all have our limits." She took a cautious step back as Tabby helped Thunder over the cattle grid. "Where's John?"

"Come on," Tabby said, jerking her head toward the barn. "I'll show you."

They found John sleeping on a pile of hay, one hand thrown over top of the sleek brown mare. He was breathing softly, his chest rising and falling in time with the horse's. The animal's ears twitched, as if she was dreaming. Sophia arched an eyebrow.

"Should we wake him?"

"Best to leave him," a girl called, approaching them. "John's been up all night with her; it was touch and go for a while, but she pulled through. I thought—" She froze, her cheeks colouring as her eyes landed on Sophia. "Oh! I know you."

"You do?" Tabby asked.

Sophia smiled. "She does."

The blonde's colour deepened. She was wearing a stethoscope instead of an apron today, but there was no mistaking it: she was the girl from the coffee shop. The one being chewed out by her grandmother.

"I'm Ava." The girl stuck out a hand. "Ava O'Sullivan."

"Sophia." She took it. "You're a vet?"

"In training," Ava said. "When I'm not working at the coffee shop, that is." She smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry you had to see that, by the way. Gran can be..." She toyed with her stethoscope. "Well. You've seen how she can be."

"Fearsome," Sophia supplied.

Ava's lips twitched. "That's one word for it."

They exchanged a few more pleasantries, and then Thunder made an impatient whinnying noise, tossing his head. Sophia didn't speak horse, but she heavily suspected that it roughly translated to, Give me my goddamn hay, human.

Tabby made a cooing noise.

"Poor baby," she crooned, patting the horse's nose. "Are you hungry?"

Thunder gave her a look that clearly said he wasn't in the mood to be teased.

"Come on," Tabby said, leading him out of the barn. "We'll feed him on the way back." She smiled at Ava, who was now crouching in the hay, carefully working around John's sleeping form. "Thanks for checking up on her."

"Anytime," Ava said.

As soon as they were at the pen, Sophia hopped up on the fence, dangling her white Converse shoes a safe distance above the mud. "So, what's the deal there?"

"Hmm?" Tabby asked.

"With Ava."

"Oh, that." Tabby grinned as she dumped some hay into a trough. "She's dating Casper. Casper Murphy." At Sophia's blank look, she clarified. "There are two coffee shops in town, right? O'Sullivan's and Murphy's. More commonly known as Northern Ireland and Southern Ireland, since they're both run by Irish women."

"Okay," Sophia said slowly.

"And every person in Bashaw has their favourite coffee shop."

"Uh-huh."

"It's the biggest rivalry in town."

"I'm following."

"And Ava is an O'Sullivan," Tabby finished, dusting off her hands. "Dating a Murphy."

Sophia felt it finally click. "So they're the Romeo and Juliet of Bashaw?"

"Something like that," Tabby allowed. "Although I'm rooting for a happier ending." She dug in her pocket, and Sophia watched — half-impressed, half-horrified — as she produced a fresh carrot. "Preferably with less death."

"I don't know," Sophia mused. "I felt that really added to the story line."

"Yeah, well," Tabby said, letting Thunder eat the carrot off her palm, "let's agree to disagree." She pursed her lips. "Speaking of which: how angry do you think Mom will be if I bring the dogs in for breakfast?"

They trudged back toward the house, batting away flies and crickets. Sophia's stomach rumbled. In Toronto, she would be grabbing a yoghurt parfait and a matcha latte on the way to class right now, and the thought filled her with longing.

Speaking of which.

"What time do you normally leave?" Sophia asked.

"Hmm?"

"For class."

"Oh," Tabby said, surprised. "Mom didn't tell you?" She skirted around a dusty patch. "I don't have class on Mondays. But don't worry," she added quickly, seeing the panic on Sophia's face. "They arranged a ride into Calgary for you."

"They did?"

Tabby nodded. "Dad says you'll love him."

Sophia wasn't sure who was picking her up, but considering that he was running twenty minutes late, she was pretty sure that she wasn't going to love him.

She jiggled her foot, glancing at her watch. Hell. Sophia wasn't one to turn down a grand entrance, but the idea of breezing into her first digital marketing class thirty minutes late felt a little obnoxious, even for her.

A red pick-up truck rattled up the dirt road, and she let out a breath.

"Thank god," Sophia muttered. "Finally." She darted toward the passenger door, fully intending to yank it open, and then froze.

Because there, in the driver's seat of the truck, was the rude stranger from the coffee shop.