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)
My good cheek rests against his heart. “Milo …” The rest of my words die, vanish before they reach my lips. I’m not sure what I want to say. Or maybe I do know; I just don’t know how to say it.
“Indiana Ellington … I love you too.”
With a single blink, a tsunami of tears surges down my face. If this is love, then love is overrated.
No. It’s flat-out cruel.
16
IMPRISONED
MILO
“Did you fuck my daughter?”
I tighten the saddle on Ranger two days after Indie returns to school. It’s taken Fletcher this long to broach the topic. Ranger rears his head a bit, and Fletcher strokes the bridge of his nose with one hand while holding the bridle in his other hand.
“Daughter. That’s a bold word. Is Indiana your daughter now?” A cooler fall breeze slithers past my neck, or maybe it’s just Fletcher’s proximity.
“Milo, your bravery is admirable … but stupid. Whatever you feel toward Indiana is inconsequential. You will marry Jolene. Indie will pursue her own life.”
I laugh. “Well, that we agree on. Indie should pursue her dreams as far away from here as possible.”
Fletcher strokes his gray beard, eyes squinted in the shadow of his cowboy hat. “Gotta say, I wasn’t expecting you to be so agreeable.”
I remove my hat and wipe the dirt along my brow. “I can be agreeable. It’s obedience I struggle with.”
Nodding, Fletcher gazes off in the distance at the guys unloading fence posts from the back of a tractor trailer. “Have you submitted a request to visit Archer?”
“Christ, Fletcher …” I mount Ranger. “Why do you care?”
“Because I think we’re legally out of options. This train will leave the station, and I can’t stop it.”
I squint against the sun. “You know I never asked for any of this.”
“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be grateful.” Fletcher turns, heading back toward his truck.
Grateful.
I don’t know what that means anymore. Existing seems to be the best I can do. Gratitude feels like a luxury just out of my reach.
With Indie gone and my impending nuptials creeping closer, my life feels void of emotion and filled with meaningless tasks.
It takes three weeks to get my application approved to visit Archer. Indie hasn’t sent me a single text. Not one call. Until today. Her timing couldn’t be more impeccable. From my truck in the prison parking lot, I lift the phone to my ear.
“Hey.”
“Hi,” she says in a soft voice.
I want to drown in it. I want to crawl through the phone and bring every inch of her body as close to mine as possible. And if I die at that moment … so be it.
“Tell me something good. I really need to hear something good right now.” My head tips back to the headrest while I close my eyes.
“I’m not coming home for Christmas.”
I deflate even more. “Indiana, you suck at this game.”
“I’m going to stay with a friend in Colorado. Snowboarding. Shopping. Maybe smoke a joint or two and pretend her family is my family.”
It’s not an execution, but I feel like Indie’s news is the equivalent of my stay of execution being denied.
No Indie.
Merry fucking Christmas.
“Milo?”
I clear my throat and open my eyes. “Yeah. I’m here. That’s, uh … great. That’s great, Indie. I’m happy for you. Guess I’d better get your present in the mail if that’s the case.”
“You bought me something?” Her tone escalates, and I gobble up every ounce of joy that leaks from it.
“Maybe.”
She giggles. It’s a better high than anything she’ll smoke in Colorado.
“Well, I got you something too.”
“Liar.” I can’t help my grin. It feels out of place on my face, given why I’m parked where I am.
“Guess you’ll just have to wait and see,” she sing-songs.
“Guess so.”
A pause—a long one—wedges its way into our conversation. I stare at the dash because what’s beyond is too tragic, too unimaginable. And I picture Indie and her wavy blond hair tousled from the wind. Her short sundress whipping in waves. And her boots scuffing along the dirt, kicking dust on their way to me as I finish a long day, covered in dirt and sweat.
“So … where are you? On Ranger?”
I force myself to lift my gaze to the top of the guard tower over the endless horizon of razor wire. I force myself back to reality. “How’d you guess?”
“I miss Ranger. I’m sure he misses me too.”
“Yeah.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. I miss my Indie girl something fierce. It tugs at my chest, leaving permanent marks. “He misses you,” I mumble.
“Just him?”
“The chickens miss you too. You were much gentler with their eggs than I am.”
Again, she giggles, and again, I tuck every little note of it into my memory because I know someday she won’t be laughing like this in my ear.
“I’m sure you’re busy, so I won’t keep you. I just wanted to tell you about my plans.”