Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Thatcher cut his gaze to mine. “Don’t act like you aren’t ready for her to be a widow.”
I stood up. “I want her free of that piece of shit, and I want him to pay. But that’s it.”
He smirked. “Sure. That’s all you want.”
I wasn’t going to argue. He was trying to bait me. I knew him too well. Unlike the younger guys, who always fell for his shit and let him get them worked up, I was unphased. Instead, I just chuckled and shook my head before going to fill up my glass. Our meeting had just been extended.
“Boss made it clear—no one fucks her,” Monte said, his eyes leveled on me.
Fine. I hadn’t planned on it.
• eleven •
“I didn’t like men. I wanted to stay clear of them.”
Rumor
I had spent the last four days tucked away in the little cottage, and I’d found more than just my body healing. The peaceful beauty was good for my soul. I knew this was temporary, but I clung to the serenity, soaking it in and hoping it was enough before I had to leave it behind.
Maeme had stopped by every day with something she’d made. I had more food than I would ever eat, but I found myself being able to enjoy it without fear of gaining a pound or two.
Yesterday, I had even braved going outside for a walk. There were two horses out for me to watch from afar. The breeze was cool, but the warm sunshine made it the perfect weather. The trees were already green, and the grass was lush and felt like velvet under my bare feet. It’d felt as if I were in a utopia, created in my own imagination.
The first two nights, I had feared I would wake up and this all would have been a dream.
This morning, when I had opened my eyes to hear the birds chirping and the sunshine pouring through the windows, I had smiled so big that my lip stung. The swelling in it was gone, but where it had broken open was still on the mend. Walking into the cheery yellow kitchen, barefoot, wearing whatever I wanted, and making my own cup of coffee with no fear—it’d made me want to weep with joy. If only I could stay in this house like this forever. It would be a perfect life.
I couldn’t let myself think like that. It was hard not to, but I knew this would come to an end. Staying would never be an option. If I pretended like it was, it would be harder in the end.
Taking my cup of coffee, I stepped out onto the front porch with a shawl over my shoulders I had found at the top of the bedroom closet. Sitting out here with the fresh morning air was becoming my favorite thing to do. Especially after waking up.
I just sat down and got comfortable when I saw the front of a familiar truck heading down the path toward the house. Running back inside to hide from King the way I had with the others would be rude. I didn’t know them. I’d only met them that first night at Maeme’s. Technically, I didn’t really know King either, but he had swooped in to save me when I had no one. I was here in this perfect corner of the world because of him.
His truck came to a stop a few feet in front of the house, and I watched as he stepped down from the shiny black Chevy. That smile of his spread across his face, and he gave me that head nod he was so good at, then tilted his cowboy hat back on his head so that I could see his eyes before he headed toward me.
“Morning,” he called out.
I pulled the shawl closer together over my tank top. I didn’t have on a bra yet, and I didn’t want to appear inappropriate.
“Good morning,” I replied.
King put one boot on the first step and leaned his elbow on the railing. “You seem to be settling in just fine,” he said. “House treating you good?”
I nodded. “Yes. It’s wonderful.”
His smile spread. “Good. Glad to hear it. I know Maeme has been bringing you food, but I was gonna see if you wanted to go with me to her house for breakfast. Sunday morning, she normally does it up right. She even makes these homemade waffles that are so damn fluffy and soft that you can’t stop at just one.”
I tensed. Maeme’s house and meals meant the others. I hadn’t seen them since Thatcher and Storm had brought the apple pie over. I’d been rude, but they had surprised me. I didn’t trust Thatcher. He was different. Terrifying really. In a way I couldn’t quite label. Seeing them after that didn’t sound appealing at all. I just wanted to stay here, alone.