Ceastrerion: Journey of the Broken Vow

Lila

I stared out of the car window, watching the city skyline shrink in the rearview mirror, tall buildings giving way to endless stretches of highway and then, eventually, to flat, dusty roads lined with nothing but fields and the occasional cow. My arms were crossed tight over my chest, earbuds in but no music playing. I just wanted the silence, even if it was fake.

I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to spend my entire summer in some tiny rural town with an uncle I barely knew, cut off from my friends, my life, and everything that actually mattered. I was a city girl—born and raised in apartments with sirens at night and coffee shops on every corner. Not… this.

“Lila, honey, come on,” Mom said from the front passenger seat, twisting around to give me that overly bright smile she always used when she knew I was mad. “It’s only two months. You’ll have fun. Fresh air, open space—”

I didn’t look at her. Just kept watching the world blur by.

Dad gripped the wheel tighter, eyes fixed on the road. He hadn’t said much since we left. Typical. As long as the car was moving and no one was yelling, he was fine.

Mom sighed and turned back around.

I pulled out my phone, more out of boredom than anything, and opened I*******m. I typed in his name—Ryder Kane. My step-uncle. Mom’s brother, technically, but only by adoption. He’d been taken in by my grandparents when he was eighteen, already grown, already rough around the edges. I’d met him maybe three times in my life; at holidays, mostly, and he’d always been quiet. Tall. Broad. The kind of man who didn’t need to speak to fill a room.

His profile loaded.

Only four posts.

The most recent one was from last year: him standing in front of a barn, arms crossed, wearing a faded black T-shirt stretched tight across his chest, worn jeans, and a cowboy hat tipped low over his eyes. Sun-tanned skin, dark stubble, that sharp jawline. He looked… dangerous. Too handsome for thirty-two. Too hot for someone who lived in the middle of nowhere raising cattle.

There was one older photo with his wife—Aunt Delaney, I guess. Blonde, pretty, smiling politely beside him at some county fair. They looked like a magazine couple. But something about the way they stood, just slightly apart, felt off.

I scrolled back to his photo alone and bit my lip.

Mom glanced over. “You okay back there?”

I hesitated, then locked my phone but kept it in my hand. “Does Uncle Ryder have kids?”

Mom blinked, surprised. “No, sweetie. They… don’t.”

Dad shot her a look. It was short and sharp but looked like a warning.

Mom ignored it. “They’re in a celibate marriage.”

Dad’s voice was low. “Sarah.”

“What?” Mom turned to him. “She asked. She’s family. It’s not some big secret.”

I widened my eyes slightly, sinking lower in my seat. “So they don’t even sleep together anymore?”

Dad’s knuckles went white on the steering wheel. “Lila.”

Mom sighed. “It’s… complicated. They love each other, but things have been strained. Intimacy isn’t… there right now.”

I looked back out the window, letting out a soft scoff.

A sexless marriage.

Him… looking like that, and untouched. Just like me. Why the hell was I even thinking about that? I shook my head, shaking off the weird thoughts. Who cares if he was untouched or a virgin?

As the car turned onto a long gravel drive leading up to a sprawling ranch house in the distance, I felt something shift inside me.

This summer was going to be anything but boring.

The gravel crunched under the tires as Dad finally pulled up in front of the ranch house. It was bigger than I remembered—white siding, a wide wraparound porch, and barns and fences stretching out behind it like something from an old Western movie. The sun was dipping low, painting everything gold, and the air smelled like hay and earth and something faintly sweet I couldn’t place.

Delaney was already waiting on the porch, waving enthusiastically the second the car stopped. She looked just like her I*******m photo—blonde hair pulled into a loose ponytail, sundress fluttering in the breeze, smile wide and genuine. She hurried down the steps as we climbed out.

“Sarah! Tom!” she called, pulling Mom into a tight hug first, then Dad. “It’s been too long.”

Mom laughed, hugging her back. “Way too long. Look at you. You haven’t aged a day. You still look so pretty.”

“You too, Sarah! Maybe tell me who your dermatologist is later?”

“Sure!” Mom laughed.

Delaney turned to me next, eyes lighting up even brighter. “And Lila. Oh my goodness, look at you. You’re all grown up.” She pulled me into a hug before I could brace myself, her perfume soft and floral. “You’re so beautiful.”

I forced a smile, hugging her back awkwardly with one arm while clutching my suitcase handle with the other. “Thanks. Hi.”

She pulled away but kept her hands on my shoulders, studying me like I was some miracle. “I can’t believe you’re here for the whole summer. We’re going to have so much fun.”

I nodded, my smile still plastered on. “Yeah. Can’t wait.”

Dad grabbed my bigger bags from the trunk while Mom and Delaney chattered about the drive. I followed them up the steps and into the house, cool air washing over me as we stepped inside.

The sitting room was exactly what I expected: rustic but cozy. Wooden beams on the ceiling, leather couches, and a big stone fireplace. A woven rug covered most of the hardwood floor. And then my eyes landed on the wall above the fireplace.

A massive set of cattle horns—long, curved, and polished—was mounted like a trophy. The skull was still attached, empty eye sockets staring down at me.

I swallowed, a shiver running down my spine despite the warmth. It felt like it was watching.

Delaney noticed my stare and laughed lightly. “Ryder’s pride and joy. He took it down himself years ago. Said it was the biggest one he’d ever seen.”

I nodded slowly, forcing my eyes away. “Cool.”

Mom and Dad settled onto the couch while Delaney disappeared into the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “Sweet tea? Lemonade? I’ve got both.”

“Lemonade sounds perfect,” Mom answered for all of us.

I set my smaller bag down and perched on the edge of an armchair, looking around. Everything was clean, lived-in, but there was something… quiet about the house. Like it was waiting for something. Or someone.

Delaney came back with a tray of glasses, ice clinking, and handed them out. She sat across from us, crossing her legs, still smiling.

“So,” Mom said, taking a sip, “where’s Ryder?”

My eyes slightly went up when I heard that.

Delaney’s smile flickered, just for a second, before she waved a hand. “Oh, he had to run out to the north pasture. One of the bulls got through the fence again, and he wanted to check the herd before dark. You know how he is. He can’t rest until everything’s squared away.”

Dad grunted in understanding. “Always was hands-on.”

Delaney nodded, but her eyes drifted toward the window, like she was looking for headlights that weren’t there yet.

I sipped my lemonade, sweet and cold, and tried not to think about how long “before dark” might be.

Or how quiet the house felt without him in it.

Or how, somewhere out there in the fading light, Ryder was riding around on horseback, fixing fences, sweat on his skin, shirt clinging to his back.

I shifted in my seat, suddenly too aware of the warmth creeping up my neck.

This was REALLY going to be a long summer.