Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 44134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
“Then what really happened?” I ask, frustrated that I feel like I’m missing all of these pieces. What is it that I’m not seeing and why hasn’t someone told me what it is?
There’s a tense silence in the room then finally, Vale clears his throat. “Mom started dating a guy who had been to prison for some nasty stuff. He wasn’t a good person, and I didn’t want him around you. So, I called Aunt Elaine and told her what was happening. I knew she’d care.”
“That’s when I invited both of you to come live with me,” my aunt fills in the detail.
“What?” I gasp.
“Your mom left you here, that’s true,” Aunt Elaine says. “But you were never dumped on me. You were invited and welcomed into my home. You were—and still are—wanted.”
Tears fill my eyes as I see the situation through a fresh perspective. It’s not that I wasn’t wanted or cast aside. “I can’t believe this. You mean all of this time—”
Aunt Elaine drops to her knees in front of my chair and takes my hand in hers. She gives it a firm squeeze. “If you never hear anything I say again, hear this: I chose you. And I’d choose you again and again.”
I reach for her then, wrapping my arms around her. All those years of thinking I wasn’t wanted aren’t magically erased. But I see them differently now because the lie is no longer my loudest truth, tormenting me with pain. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that. You didn’t have to take us in.”
“I love you,” she says, squeezing me back.
My phone dings in my pocket as I’m wiping the tears from my face. I stare at the notification and nearly burst into tears all over again. This can’t really be happening, can it?
Chapter 13
Bronco
“What are you doing here?” Vale asks as soon as he sees me. He’s standing in the gardens of the Wildflower Retirement Community. His jeans are covered in dirt, and it’s clear he’s spent most of the day working the land.
I hate that when he returned stateside, the first thing he saw was me kissing his sister. I would have preferred the chance to look him in the eye man-to-man and tell him how much I care about his sister.
Now, Vale hates me, and Lauren is convinced that I was only with her as some type of service to him. I’m working to mend fences with him and create a plan to show her that there’s never been anyone else for me. She’s my forever.
“I hate the way your homecoming went down,” I tell him, figuring it’s best to start with honesty.
He glares at me. “I don’t fucking care.”
“I know. But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m in love with your sister. I’m not going to stop fighting for her. She’s going to marry me one day.”
He pauses, tossing down the pair of hedge clippers. “What did you just say to me?”
I look him dead in the eye. “I said I’m marrying your sister.”
“No, before that.”
“I’m in love with her.” Can’t help the dopey grin on my face. It doesn’t matter if he takes a swing at me. I’m in love with Lauren and will be for the rest of time.
“For real?” He repeats, eyeing me carefully. Yeah, he’s thinking about taking that swing.
“As real as it gets. She’s mine forever.”
“You weren’t with her because of your promise to me?” He clarifies.
I swear under my breath. “I’m not that good of an actor, you know that.” Then I pause and admit, “I’ve wanted her since she first sent me that care package.”
He lets out a slow whistle. “That’s a long damn time.”
“For what it’s worth, it’s not like I waited until you were gone to make my move. But make no mistake, I’m going to win her back.”
“I get it. I was pissed off in the moment,” he thinks for a second, then asks softly, “so, what are you doing to win her back?”
“Move the button over there,” I tell Flint. We’re in my kitchen, and he’s sitting on a stool at the island. I’m standing behind him, directing him as he clicks around on his laptop.
“Keep in mind that I’ve never done anything like this before,” he says and tries twice to get the button in the right place. One attempt has it on the opposite side of the page and ends with him cursing and hitting the undo key repeatedly.
“Just get it done,” I grumble even though he’s helping me.
He scowls at me then goes back to moving the box on the website. He claims he’s using a drag-and-drop editor, which apparently means it’s not nearly as sophisticated as what Lauren did. For our purpose, it will have to do. There’s a lot this cowboy can do, but I’ve never built a website. Well, up until right now.