Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
“Mr. Peterson’s been asking about you,” he says. “We’ll stop here, then the feed store, the bakery. Places with witnesses.”
I understand the strategy. Create a narrative. Be seen. Establish that we were here, far from a dead man in our living room.
We make our rounds through town, smiling and chatting like nothing’s wrong. I’m surprised at how easily the lies come, how natural my fake laugh sounds.
We’re passing the coffee shop when I see her: Allie, her copper hair wild as always, spotting me before I can look away.
“Saint?” She freezes, eyes widening. “Oh my God, Saint!”
She rushes toward me, throwing her arms around me in a fierce hug.
“Where have you been? I’ve been going crazy trying to reach you!”
“I’ve been at the ranch,” I say, forcing a smile. “With Calder. My husband.”
Allie’s eyes flick to Calder, skepticism written across her features. “Yeah, I heard about the shotgun wedding. Didn’t even have time to send an invitation to your best friend?”
“It was… sudden.” I glance at Calder, silently pleading for help.
“Family affair,” he says smoothly. “Roman’s orders.”
Allie snorts. “Right. Roman Bishop, famous for his wedding planning skills.” She hooks her arm through mine. “Come on, I need coffee with my best friend.”
I look at Calder, uncertain. After a moment’s hesitation, he nods.
“I’ll be right back,” he says. “Need to check on something at the bakery.”
Inside the coffee shop, Allie studies me, searching for clues.
“Okay, spill,” she says. “What’s going on? One minute, you’re missing, and the next, you’re Mrs. Calder Bishop? And don’t you dare lie to me. I know this ain’t all roses. Or have you forgotten that we’ve been friends since second grade?”
I can’t tell her the truth—about Martin, the kidnapping, the brand on my hip, and certainly not about Wayne.
“It’s complicated.”
“Complicated?” She leans closer. “I’m going to need more than that, Saint. You disappeared for days. Then you reappear, and you’re conveniently married to the oldest son of the family that runs, and terrorizes, this town. I think you can uncomplicate it for me.”
“The small things don’t matter. I’m happy now,” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue as I say it. “We all go through changes in life. Maybe it was my turn.” And it’s not completely a lie. It’s been hard, sure, but I don’t hate Calder and whatever we’ve started building together.
“Changes?” Her eyes search mine. “You look… different. Something in your eyes wasn’t there before.”
“Marriage changes people,” I say, missing lightness by a mile.
“So does Stockholm syndrome.” She takes my hand. “Saint, if you’re in trouble, if he’s hurt you, tell me. My mom can help. She’s got connections outside the valley.”
For a moment, I contemplate telling her everything. Then I think of the lengths Roman went to try to remove me and decide against it. I won’t endanger Allie for any of the ease it might bring to my conscience.
“I’m not in trouble,” I say. “Calder’s been good to me. Better than you’d think.”
She studies me, then sighs. “You’d tell me if you weren’t okay, right? Promise me.”
“I promise.” Another lie, but necessary.
“Good. Because if he hurts you, I’ll kill him myself.”
The irony isn’t lost on me. If she only knew what I’ve already done for him, and what he’s done to me. We’re still talking when Emma Porter, Allie’s mother, walks up to Calder for a moment down the sidewalk. Her eyes land on us immediately, narrowing, as she speaks low and slow. Calder responds, and then Emma leaves him, eyes hard, jaw set.
“Allie,” she says sharply. “I need you. Now.”
Allie rolls her eyes. “Mom, I’m catching up with Saint.”
“I can see that.” Emma’s gaze moves to me, cold. “Mrs. Bishop. Did Allie tell you she’s going to be getting married soon?”
“What?” I try to hide the shock, but that proves difficult.
The way she says my married name makes it sound like a disease. And then I parse what she just said.
“You’re getting married?” I demand, clutching Allie again.
She ducks her chin, swallows hard, and glances away. “Sucks not knowing something so important about your best friend, huh?”
I flinch and glance over to see Emma staring at me expectantly.
“Mrs. Porter,” I reply neutrally. “Nice to see you.” When I glance at Allie to question her statement, she shakes her head once, softly. So I let it go.
“Is it? I wonder, given what your new family has done to this town. To my family.”
I hold her gaze, feeling something harden inside me. “We aren’t your enemy, Mrs. Porter.”
Emma laughs. “You’re a ‘we’ now, huh? Does your father approve of this… relationship?”
“He respects my choices.”
“I’m sure he does. Just as I’m sure your sudden marriage has nothing to do with the fact that Roman Bishop held the mortgage on your father’s church. A mortgage that was suddenly paid right around the time you started wearing that ring.”