My stomach twists with familiar guilt. I want to press, to ask if he's okay, but Ollie's pressed lips tell me he's already walked that road and found it blocked. I swallow the questions burning my tongue—for now. We both turn back to watch Mia, who guides her horse across the field with the kind of effortless grace that comes from years of dedication.

"She's really good," I say softly.

"She's amazing," he replies, voice rich with quiet admiration.

I glance up at him, unable to resist teasing. "You like her."

He doesn't deny it. Instead, he lets out a small sigh, running a hand through his hair in a gesture so familiar it aches.

"I think I love her."

The vulnerability in his voice tugs at my heart. My tough big brother, finally letting someone past his walls.

"She's head over heels for you too, you know," I say gently. “Don’t tell her I said that."

He smiles faintly, nudging my shoulder in our old familiar way. The moment feels frozen in amber—precious and perfect.

We stand in comfortable silence until Ollie speaks again.

"I know about you and Nate.”

My head snaps up, startled. "What?"

He shrugs with deliberate casualness. "Relax, I already had the big brother talk with him. I gave him the green light."

The words leave me speechless. Nate talked to Ollie—about us. About whatever this electric, terrifying thing is between us. Heat crawls up my neck as I struggle to find words.

"Just don't let me catch you hooking up and shit because you're still my little sister and he's still my best friend. And also, eww."

If my face wasn't burning before, now it's on fire.

"Nate's always looked out for you," Ollie adds, his tone easy but weighted with meaning. "Even when you didn't know it."

I blink, thrown. "What do you mean?"

Ollie shifts his stance, crossing his arms in that protective way he picked up after Dad died. "Remember when Jackson Dalton made fun of your self-cut bangs that summer when you were eleven?"

"I try not to." The memory still makes me cringe—those uneven bangs I'd chopped off in a moment of misguided inspiration.

"Nate beat the living shit out of him and told him if he ever said anything about you again, he'd spill Jackson's secret."

"What secret?" Curiosity pricks at my skin.

Ollie's lips quirk into a knowing smirk. "Doesn't matter. Jackson never said another word about you."

I stare at him, mind racing through years of memories, searching for signs I might have missed. "He didn't have to do that."

"Nate was the only one allowed to pick on you," Ollie says with a laugh. "Remember Justin Kemp?"

The name sounds familiar, but I can’t recall. "The guy from Nate's football team?"

"One summer, during a scrimmage, Justin saw a photo of you and said something. Something I, as your brother, refuse to repeat."