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)
“Y-yes … s-sir.”
“The trailer’s ready, Fletch.”
Milo.
I don’t want to turn around. He’ll see my tears. He’ll know that I’m in trouble.
Fletcher straightens his tie, stands, and adjusts his big belt buckle while eyeing me. “Go.”
I nod, scrambling to my feet and running past Milo with my chin tucked as far as it will go.
“Indie …” Milo says my name while grabbing my arm.
I keep my head bowed, trying to hide my face and tears.
“Look at me,” he whispers.
My heart beats so hard it hurts my chest.
“Milo, let her go. She has packing to do, and we need to get on the road.” Fletcher’s boots knock the wood floor, creeping closer to us.
I lift my chin, choking on a shaky breath while keeping my hand pressed to my cheek.
Milo frowns, peeling my hand from my face. In the next breath, something about him changes. He’s no longer the kind-smiled Milo who has cared for me since Ruthie died.
“Go to your room,” he says, his jaw clenched.
Why does he look so angry? Is he mad at me for upsetting Fletcher?
“Go,” he says with a sharp tone.
Shaking, I turn and run toward the stairs, but I stop before going up them.
“If you ever lay a hand on her again …” Milo says.
“What?” Fletcher laughs. It’s evil, like him. “What are you going to do? Listen, boy, don’t forget who owns you. Don’t forget that every breath you enjoy is a gift from me. I am your god. You don’t question God. You obey Him. The one who giveth is the one who taketh away. You best remember that.”
Fletcher’s boots start knocking against the hard floor again, getting closer. I scurry as fast as I can up the stairs to my bedroom.
Less than an hour later, Faye taps her fake fingernails on my bedroom door.
“Come in.”
She peeks her head inside and smiles. Her hair is pulled into a ponytail like Ruthie wore hers when she jogged up and down the long blacktop from the ranch gates to the circle drive. “Micah said you didn’t eat your breakfast. I told him you might be hungry now.” She sets the plate of pancakes on my desk.
I try to find a polite smile for her while I hug my stuffed bear tighter from the cocoon of my princess bed. I don’t know what to say or how to feel. Why did he hit me?
Faye pulls back one of the sheer curtains surrounding my bed and sits on the edge, bringing her floral scent. She clears her throat, face scrunched. “What happened to your face, Indiana?”
I shake my head. “Nothing,” I manage without crying.
“Did someone hit you?”
Again, I shake my head. I don’t know why I’m lying. Ruthie loved Fletcher. I loved Ruthie. She was a good person. So I know there has to be something good about Fletcher. I don’t want Faye to get upset with him. What if she says something to him, and he’s mean to her, like he was mean to Milo when he said something about it?
“You know you can tell me anything. Right?” Faye rests her hand on my knee.
“I know,” I whisper, pulling at a thread to my quilt.
She sighs, but it doesn’t get rid of that look like she doesn’t trust me. “Let’s get you packed.”
“I don’t want to go.”
Faye squeezes my knee. “I know you’re probably scared. You’ll make friends. And Thanksgiving will be here before you know it. And you’ll be back here with your family.”
I still don’t want to leave, but I don’t have a choice. Faye helps me pack. We say our goodbyes which include a video call to Grandma Hill. She too tries to make it seem as though I will be fine. I will make new friends.
Micah cooks me dinner, and I eat alone. Then I take a bath and brush my teeth. Perched at my window, I wait for Fletcher to come home. A little before midnight, headlights creep into the driveway. I smile, tug on a hoodie, and rocket down the stairs past Micah sleeping on the sofa. So much for him keeping an eye on me until Fletcher gets home.
I wait by the back door. When I hear the front door open, I know it’s safe to go outside. There’s a dog door for Mud, Fletcher’s chocolate lab, that I choose to crawl through because it makes less noise. My anxious feet sprint after the taillights, down the drive, and off to the right. Milo climbs out of his truck, and I throw myself into his body, a shield that protects me from Fletcher.
“Indie girl …” He stiffens for a brief second like I’m an animal in the night attacking him. “What are you doing? It’s nearly midnight.”
I don’t speak. I can’t. The real reason I don’t want to go away to school seems to be stuck in my throat.