Read. Review. You guys know the drill. (:

This story uses my own couple of characters, with of course the typical ones included. Here's a description for my own characters (you don't have to read this, but it's recommended. Same goes for the summary in italics)

Aurelia Weston: Prefers to go by Lia; sophomore girl; new to the area and Darton High; deep, deep brunette, stick-straight, short hair; amber eyes; very fair-skinned; 5'3"; former endurance riding competitor; lives with her parents at Windy Mill Ranch; an only child; quiet and normally serious, jokes usually come in the form of derogatory sarcasm; owns Spirit, but hardly ever rides.

Sacred Spirit: "Spirit" is a chestnut Arabian mare with an unusually super-refined head, stands at 14.3 hands, and adores people. Owned by Lia, who occasionally rides her lightly.

Willis Bronte: Goes by Will; junior boy; hair is a mix of red/brown/black, medium-length for a boy, wavy; blue eyes; fair-skinned, but not like Lia; has a few freckles around his nose; 5'8"; has been working part-time for the Forster's for the past six months; lives in the outskirts of Darton; has one older brother named Theodore, aka Ted; doesn't own a horse; parents fight constantly; quiet and reserved, but less serious than Lia, more willing to take risks.

Bliss: Bliss is a red roan Mustang mare that Brynna adopted on a whim. She is Will's main horse to work. Built like a quarter horse, stands at 15 hands, and is a great sprinter. Wyatt thinks she'll make a good cutting horse.

SUMMARY for Don't Say You Care: Lia has just moved to the Darton area, living on Windy Mill Ranch with her parents. Although the ranch is small, her parents are finally happier than they've been in years and are enjoying living out their dreams of breeding and training Arabian horses.

But Lia isn't happy. After a terrifying riding accident that caused the death of her old horse, she has refused to compete in endurance riding ever since and hardly even rides at all.

Sam, Jake, and Will, a boy who helps Jake in training horses for Wyatt, are all determined to help her conquer her fears. Will their combined efforts be enough to convince Lia to ride outside the ring?

Love begins to bloom between Jake and Sam as they work together for their common cause. However, Will is afraid to express his own feelings for Lia, especially when one event reveals why she is afraid to open up to any guy. Can he change that, or will Lia push away the greatest thing that's ever happened to her?

Chapter 1

The lightning flashed again, followed by a crack of thunder that shook the earth beneath Eagle's hooves. He neighed in distress, but I didn't dare try to give him a reassuring pat for fear of losing control as he danced beneath me, threatening to bolt. I looked around, but all I could see was the rain, the angry black sky, the whipping trees like dark shadows, Eagle's drenched form beneath my seat.

I tried to take a deep breath, but I couldn't breath. It was like the water from the sky was drowning me. Panic threatened to overwhelm me completely as Eagle reared, reaching for the flashing sky. I wanted to scream, but my vocal chords wouldn't function. They were drenched, drowned out…

Eagle returned to the earth and bolted, making it impossible to see where we were going. I couldn't stop him, couldn't see, couldn't breathe. The darkness deepened between each flash of lightning, the world turning into strange black and blue swatches around me, more indistinct as the hoof beats beneath me quickened.

Then everything started moving in slow-motion. There was a river approaching, something I hadn't seen in the blinding rain, but I couldn't slow Eagle's frantic pace. He plunged into the river, slipping on the rocks at the bottom. This time, as blackness enveloped my sight and I was lost in the current, I screamed.

"Lia!" my mother called out to me frantically. I felt my eyes pop open and I shot up in my bed, the sheets tangled around me and a sheen of sweat on my forehead. I panted, trying to control my out-of-control heart rate.

My mother rushed to my side and placed a cool hand on my forehead. "Another nightmare?"

"Yeah," I whispered hoarsely. She nodded in understanding, but her expression was flustered. After eleven months, she hadn't figured out how to keep the nightmare away, or at least stop the screaming. But she checked on me every time I screamed anyways, trying to figure out something, anything, that would chase those images away. Nothing had worked.

"Would you maybe like a glass of milk?" she asked soothingly. I shook my head.

"No, thanks," I murmured. She sighed in defeat.

"Come wake me up if you need me."

"Mmkay." I tried to act like I was sleepy, turning my head away from her. In reality, I probably wouldn't fall back asleep tonight. I usually didn't after that nightmare.

"'Night, sweetheart." She placed a gentle kiss on my forehead, then left me alone in blackness again. I trembled. I didn't want to be alone, but I felt so weak having to depend on my mother just hold my wits together. I clutched my pillow and tried to focus on something pleasant. At first, nothing came to mind, but I kept up my efforts, and found one thing to focus on.

My new room smelled nice.

Living in Nevada was going to be nightmarish if this kind of thing kept up, I thought bitterly. After what seemed like hours, I fell asleep for what felt like seconds.

I awoke the next day to find that my curtains had been drawn open and sunlight was filling up the room with a blinding light. I shielded my eyes and groaned, not wanting to leave the comfort of my bed. My father strolled in, whistling cheerfully.

"Good morning, sunshine!" he announced jovially. I lifted up my head and turned to glare at him before burying my face in a pillow. "Oh, come on," he encouraged brightly, "it's a beautiful day out, and your horse needs a good grooming."

I grumbled wearily, mentally cursing my lack of deep sleep as I sat up and rubbed my eyes. "What time is it?"

"Seven-ish."

"What?!" I screeched. I refused to get out of bed before nine, considering it was winter vacation and all that.

"We don't have the luxury of a groom right now, Lia," he scolded gently. I tried not to cringe as he brought back memories of our old home. "You have your own horse; you're at least taking care of her. Besides, I let you sleep in an hour. You'll be waking up at six every morning from now on."

He was being more than fair, but I didn't want to admit that. I wasn't in the mood for his guilt-trips, or waking up before the sun rose every freaking day. I jumped out of bed and made a shooing motion with my hands as I rolled my eyes. He understood me clearly; I could tell by the way his eyes glared in my direction, but he ignored it and just began to leave.

"I already fed her for you," he called out. His tone implied that I was supposed to thank him. Instead, I slammed the door shut behind his retreating figure, satisfied by the loud noise it produced.

***

"Come on, honey!" my mom shouted from the old pickup. I shuffled my way out, trying to keep my teeth from chattering. Why was it so darn cold here? Gosh, I missed California. The ache in my chest accentuated the thought.

"Who are these people again?" I asked in a huff, leaning against the window as she drove down our rocky driveway. She fixed her short, dark blond hair in the mirror with one hand, fluffing it up and smoothing a few pieces before she let her eyes drift to me. For some reason, this made me self-conscious. My short, almost black hair was a bit greasy, its asymmetrical cut looking more like an accident with the scissors than the stylish statement it was intended to be, thanks to my sufficient lack of effort this morning. I had only managed to scrape together the few warm clothes I had with some worn-out, faded jeans over my dusty boots. I hadn't felt like wearing any makeup, either. Of course, I chided myself, did it really matter what I looked like? I simply couldn't care less.

"The Forster's. At Riverbend Ranch. Brynna and Wyatt are the parents. Samantha is the oldest kid, your age I think. She'll go to school with you at Darton High, at any rate. Then they have a newborn boy named Cody, and Wyatt's mother, Grace, lives with them. I forgot all the ranch hands' names, though." I glanced at her and made a snorting noise, making my contempt for the children's age difference obvious.

"Brynna's not Wyatt's first wife," she responded, instantly guessing my question.

"Divorce?" I had an aunt and an uncle who had both been through their own sets of divorces. I'd seen what happened to their children--and themselves. I could only feel pity for this family, even if they were relatively happy. I don't know if I would ever be able to handle that sense of betrayal. It was such a surreal concept to me with my happily married parents.

"No. Grace explained on the phone--Sam's real mother died in a car accident when she was about five."

I instantly felt regretful of my snarky attitude, but I couldn't form a decent apology. I settled for looking ashamed. A strange silence entered the truck cab, and I mindlessly drew patterns on my window, trying to imagine everything that poor girl had been through. It was impossible.

Finally, a long stretch of silence later, we clunked over a bridge and parked in front of a large ranch house. It was white with pretty green shutters adorning all the windows. A dog barked a few times in warning, but was quickly quieted by some tall man's orders. When he glanced up at the truck, I was astonished to see his dark, deeply tanned face, and a few strands of unusually long black hair whip across his features in the wind. He was so unique that it was hard not to stare in speculation as I jumped out of the truck cab.

An older woman, her gray hair in a messy bun and a food-splattered apron, came out from the screen door and waved cheerily.

"Why, hello there!" she called out. Grace, I assumed, then proceeded to shuffle down the porch steps, past the young man, and shake my mother's hand warmly. "What a pleasure to meet you in person, Cassandra. And if you haven't already guessed, I'm Grace." She laughed warmly.

"It's great to meet you too, Grace," my mother said in her cordial way. Grace turned to me, and I felt the urge to shift my eyes to the toes of my boots.

"And you must be Aurelia," she said, taking my hand in hers. "My, my, you're quite the beauty." I blushed, hoping it went unnoticed. I knew people only said that because of my unusual amber eyes. I didn't find myself all that pretty; sometimes, I think I resembled an owl.

"Thanks, nice to meet you," I said quietly.

"Ah, well, it's freezing out here!" Grace exclaimed. "Let's get you guys inside and give you something to eat!"

I was bombarded with greetings once I entered the house. I only remembered the names of the family members, and a couple other guests, even after being introduced to the ranch hands. I suppose that by the time I'd gotten around to them my brain was already fried. I hoped I would learn fast, though.

The Indian man turned out to be just some really tall senior in high school named Jake Ely. Another boy who looked to be high-school age as well, Will Bronte, worked alongside Jake for the Forster's, training horses and doing other odd jobs. I tried not to look disgusted as Wyatt explained the whole process cheerily to my mother and I. Riding hadn't sounded appealing in months.

Dinner passed by slowly, and I kept quiet for most of the time. However, I finally couldn't stand the whole thing. Everyone was discussing the topic of adopting Mustangs and training them. I didn't want to hear about training and riding. I wanted to go home, curl up in bed, and listen to some mind-numbing music. I couldn't stand to act like I was interested in what they were saying. Honestly, the whole ordeal made me want to cry.

"Excuse me," I finally blurted out. The whole table fell oddly silent. "May I go for a walk, get some fresh air? I--I've been feeling kind of sick all day today."

"Are you sure you'd rather not just lie on the couch, dear?" Grace asked. "It's freezing out there."

"No ma'am, I'm sure. Um, cold weather refreshes me."

"If you're certain, then of course you're excused." I tried to look a little worn down as I made my way out of the house, for I had a strong urge to jump out of my seat and dash through the door.

The wind hit me with an overpowering force, causing me to catch my breath. I shivered, but knew it was better to be out here alone then in that warm kitchen with all of those people. I had been so close to having a breakdown.

Hoping no one was watching me, I decided to scurry to the barn. It would be a little warmer, shielded from the wind, and being around horses was always comforting, even if the actual riding wasn't.

The barn turned out to be quite warm as I entered, and I breathed a sigh of relief. My fingers had already started going numb out in that weather. Glancing around, I noticed there were only a few horses inside; most of the space was used for storage. A couple of the horses stuck their heads over their stall doors in greeting, and I felt a smile creep across my face.

The two horses that caught my eye, though, were a paint with an odd silvery-blue overo coat pattern, and a red roan. I let the paint sniff my hand, but he quickly lost interest. I moved on to the roan, who let me scratch its head and neck for a long while. I lost track of time and felt--well, almost content. Horses were therapeutic to be around, not ride, I decided.

"You're a pretty horse, aren't you?" I crooned aloud. The roan responded with a sneeze, and I let out a little laugh.

"Isn't she a beauty?" a boy's voice called out from behind me. I wheeled in surprise to see Will standing in the barn doorway. "Did I scare you?"

"I think 'surprised' is a better term," I said a bit stiffly. He strolled over to where I was petting the roan.

"Her name's Bliss," he said softly, holding out his hand. The mare snuffed his palm, then began licking it. A little smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "She's my favorite."

"You don't have your own horse?" I asked, curiosity piqued. He shook his head and looked down at his boots, which were immensely cleaner than my own. I thought I should have felt embarrassed at that difference, but no heat flashed across my face.

"Well, why are you here anyways?"

"Grace told me to check on you, see if you were okay. You do look pale." Genuine concern crossed his features.

"I am pale," I said through gritted teeth.

He remained silent for a few moments before trying to start a different conversation. "You know," he turned to face me directly, and I raised an eyebrow, "Wyatt's been telling me to start taking Bliss on trail rides. Your mom said you used to trail ride a lot, endurance riding and all that, so if you ever need a trail riding partner, Sam, Jake, and I are usually available."

I looked away awkwardly. "I used to trail ride."

"So you don't trail ride anymore, at all?" he asked, sounding shocked. I gave him a disbelieving look and rolled my eyes.

"Great inference, Sherlock," I snorted sarcastically. He already appeared rather exasperated with my attitude. Nothing new there.

"Why not?" What a pushy boy.

"Reasons." I crossed my arms and gave him a stubborn stare.

"Alright, I get it. You don't like talking about it."

"Score two for Sherlock."

Something that could have been embarrassment crossed his face this time. I felt my bitter mask falter, but I couldn't find the right words to say, to explain. I wasn't sure I wanted to; after all, I hardly knew Will. He gave Bliss one last pat before turning back to the house.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, stopping momentarily to look me in the eye. It was then that I truly looked at him, studied him, in that one immeasurable moment. His hair looked like a mix of brown and black in the dim light of the barn, a little wavy, and his eyes were an pale blue, like an aquamarine gemstone. His face was angular, like it had been chiseled from stone, but not in a harsh way, just clear, defined. He was fair, but not as pale as I was--I that was almost a ghostly pale. He had a few freckles sprinkled across his nose and was possibly half a foot taller than I was.

Subconsciously, as he turned away and continued on, I ran a hand through my disheveled hair, fingering through a few knots. I hadn't taken notice before, but he was quite… handsome. Actually, very handsome.

"Will?" I called out shyly. He turned swiftly, probably caught off guard by my bashful tone.

"I--" nothing coherent was going to come out of my mouth at this rate. I sucked in a deep breath. "Don't be sorry."

He nodded mutely. "Really," I continued. "I'm just… not feeling well, and I don't like talking about that stuff, okay?"

He gave me a half-hearted smile before walking out the barn.

I realized that my heart felt a little heavy after our convoluted conversation. There was no way I could already be falling for him. No possible way.

But there was something there. That was why I had been so cold to him. I had promised myself to never get close to another boy after what had happened with my only boyfriend I'd ever had.

The effort wasn't worth the price.