The dance floor is packed with people. All kinds of country boys—tanned, muscular, and charming. But none of them are as handsome as Raylan, not even close. And none can move like him. I’m not the only woman who can’t take my eyes off him. I’m sure plenty of these girls would love to cut in for a dance, but Raylan doesn’t pause for an instant between songs. He’s grinning and brimming with energy, dancing faster and harder by the minute.

I can’t believe he’s got this kind of stamina, when I know he spent all afternoon breaking that horse.

Actually . . . the way he leads me through the dances reminds me of the way he rode that horse. Directing it so subtly and gently that the horse thought it had the freedom to run, while all the time it was doing exactly what he wanted.

He’s doing the same thing now. Directing and training me, without me even noticing. He’s got the lead, and I’m totally under his control.

I stiffen up, resisting his motion.

Raylan puts his hand on the small of my back and pulls me closer, trying to swing me around in his orbit. But now I’m pulling away from him, my pleasure in dancing evaporating.

I don’t want to be trained. I don’t want to be broken.

“What’s wrong?” Raylan says, standing still, but still holding onto my hands.

“I don’t want to dance anymore,” I say.

“Alright,” Raylan says easily. “Let’s get another drink.”

“Just water,” I say. I blame the beer for the warm flush that made me think I could dance. It made me think it was a good idea to let Raylan spin me and dip me any way he wanted.

Raylan goes to get us a couple bottles of water. I lean against the wooden railing that borders the dance floor, looking around the room. I see Grady and Shelby dancing as best they can with Shelby’s belly in the way. They’re mostly just swaying, Grady’s hands on his wife’s hips, and Shelby stretching up as high as she can reach to link her hands behind his neck.

I hate the idea of being pregnant—of being essentially debilitated, unable to walk or run like normal, my body stretched out and taken over by another living thing. I never get that vicarious excitement that other people seem to experience. Quite the opposite—when I see a pregnant lady, I want to wince and look away.

Even when Cal and Aida had their baby, I felt discomfited. I was happy for them, but at the same time I felt like some kind of strange spell took hold of them both, changing them forever. It wasn’t a bad thing. But my brother is a father now. He’s irrevocably a different person than he was before.

I can see Bo standing just outside the doorway, on the wraparound porch that encircles the building. I walk over to speak to her, drawn to her by the pensive set of her shoulders, and by my own desire to breathe fresh air for a moment.