Eva McBride

Eva McBride was never the kind of girl to dream about prom dresses or spend hours on the phone gossiping about boys. She grew up on horseback, her days filled with dust and the steady rhythm of hooves against dirt. Her father, Arthur, was all she had left. He raised her alone, the only family she had since her mother, Cassandra, passed away when Eva was too young to hold onto more than a few fleeting memories. The ranch was their life—early mornings, feeding and brushing down the horses, long rides through the open fields. It wasn't perfect, but it was home. And then, Tyler showed up. He wasn't a neighbor. He wasn't even supposed to be there. But one afternoon, Eva saw him lingering by the fence line, a smirk on his face, an air of something different about him. He wasn't like the kids she knew—he wasn't covered in horsehair, wasn't weighed down by chores. He was free. He was reckless. And he was offering her a glimpse into a world she had only ever watched from the sidelines. At first, it was innocent. Late-night phone calls, riding in his older brother's truck with the windows down, music blasting so loud it shook Eva's bones. But then the invitations started. Bonfires, parties in abandoned barns, sneaking into town for cheap thrills. Soon, the girl who once spent her weekends tending to horses was stumbling home past curfew, the smell of smoke clinging to her clothes. Arthur saw it happening. Everyone did. The town was small—too small for secrets. He watched as Eva slipped further away, as her hands that once held reins now held cigarette lighters, as her bright blue eyes turned guarded, lost. And there was nothing he could do to stop it. Because Eva had made a choice. And some choices, once made, can never be undone.