Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Indiana …” Fletcher growls, eyes narrowed.
I can’t help it. I have to poke and prod. I have to goad.
Stupid Milo dares to smirk and quickly rolls his lips together to hide it when I shoot my gaze to him. It’s the only way I feel a little independent and not like a piece of property Fletcher purchased for a million dollars.
“Fine, sir …” I say with zero sincerity. “I’ll put on a frock so I can milk the cows and gather eggs from the chickens before my date picks me up. Would that make you happy?” I stomp my feet up the stairs. After changing my clothes, settling for jeans and a sleeveless tee, I tiptoe back down the stairs, hoping to sneak out of the house before another lecture on my clothing choice ensues.
“I need you to do something for me,” Fletcher says to Milo.
I continue to tiptoe toward the backdoor, but for some reason, Fletcher’s tone piques my curiosity.
“What’s that?” Milo asks.
“When Jolene graduates from college, I want you to marry her.”
What the actual fuck?
I crane my neck in the opposite direction. He did not say that. I had to have heard him wrong. The words spin in my head. It’s dizzying. Unreal. Is this what it feels like to hallucinate?
Milo coughs several times. “Excuse me?”
“Listen, Milo. You’ve done a lot for me, especially since I lost Ruthie. But we know I’ve done a lot for you too. Some would say I’ve saved your life many times over. Jolene is a beautiful girl. You’d be lucky to have her.”
“Fletch … do you hear yourself? Do you know what year it is? Do you know what country we live in? You can’t arrange your niece’s marriage.” Milo chuckles again.
Of course, he chuckles. It’s ridiculous.
“I promised Greg I would take care of Jolene if anything happened to him.”
“Fletch, your sister’s alive. She can take care of her daughter. Money is clearly not an issue. And Jolene is a grown woman. I don’t think she needs anyone to take care of her, least of all find her a husband.”
“It’s all going to be hers, Milo. When my sister and I are gone, this will all belong to Jolene. She can’t run everything alone. Sometimes the best decisions in life are those that make sense. When we let our fucking hearts rule the world, it goes to hell.”
“You married Ruthie because you loved her. Can you honestly say you regret that?”
“Yes,” Fletcher says, and my heart deflates into a hollow piece of nothing.
Why would he say that? He loved her. I saw it every single day.
“Look where I am now? I can’t sleep. I want to drink myself into the fucking grave. I can’t bear to live in this house because she’s everywhere. And then there’s Indiana.”
Me? And then there’s me? What about me?
“Yeah, there’s Indie,” Milo says. “You said when you and your sister are gone, Jolene is it. But that’s not true. You have a daughter too.”
“No. Ruthie wanted a child, so I got her a child. Indie is not family like Jolene.”
“Fletch—”
He cuts off Milo. “Greg made me promise that everything would go to Jolene. And Pauline won’t have it any other way either.”
“And Pauline is okay with her daughter marrying for business reasons, not love?”
“Pauline is fine with it. Jolene is fine with it.”
No. No. No. That can’t be true. Jolene hates this place. She loves the money, but she’s not a rancher. She’s never been on a horse. She loses her shit if she gets dirt under her fingernails. She’s not the woman who will let Milo fuck her in a barn.
My hand rests against the wall next to a black-and-white photo of Fletcher’s father on a horse.
“Fletch …”
“Listen, Milo. You owe this family. I hate having to be such a dick to you about this, but the fact is … you owe me. And you’re going to run the show someday. You need a partner. A wife to have your children. I can’t risk Jolene marrying someone who will threaten the ownership … the legacy my family has built over four generations.”
“I’m not blood,” Milo says, throwing Fletcher’s bullshit back into his face.
“The day your parents died, you became my blood. My responsibility,” Fletcher says.
What does that mean?
“I’m not asking you to marry her tomorrow. I’m not asking you to court her. You can screw whomever you want for now, but don’t knock anyone up, and be ready to fall in line when the time comes. Okay?”
Say no, Milo. It’s not okay.
I don’t hear Milo say anything.
“That’s my boy,” Fletcher says.
Did Milo nod? Did he agree to this? No. I shake my head and flee on wobbly legs as hard and fast as possible. This isn’t real. It’s unfathomable, even for Fletcher Ellington.
I sprint to the end of the long driveway, swatting my hands at tiny clouds of swarming bugs, through the seeping trail of smoke from the workers’ roaring fire behind their barn. Hopping into the back seat of Camden’s red Mustang with Hallie, I swallow down the bile that wants out. The nauseating reality of Fletcher’s words and Milo’s acquiescence.