Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Waking up was a wild ride. I jumped right back on the Ferris wheel of panic, although it was moving a little slower this time.
Betsy Barn stands in the distance, the weathervane at the top whipping in the wind. From the hay loft, you can see across the back acreage of Lolly’s land. Hartley and I used to sit up there to get away from Gray and his friends, and I’d almost always catch him looking forlornly over the creek.
I love the idea of helping him get it back. That means a lot to me. But marriage? Marriage is a huge sacrifice to make. It means … staying. Committing. Accepting that my wants, needs, and whims aren’t the only deciding factor in decisions. That’s terrifying. I told Lolly that I wanted that eventually, but was that the actual truth? I don’t know. The idea of giving myself to someone that fully—handing them the ability to leave me brokenhearted—makes it hard to breathe. I’m not willing to set myself up for that level of loss again.
But if all it got was Hartley’s land back into his hands, I’d do it. God knows he’s done enough for me over the years.
“Hey,” I say once I’m stopped next to his truck. The breeze blows through my open windows, delivering the sweet smell of spring along with it.
He moves slowly from the barn toward me. “Hey to you.”
“Did you wake up this morning feeling like you had a hangover?” I ask, climbing out of my car. “Or was that just me?”
He removes a pair of brown gloves and tosses them on the hood of his truck. “I halfway didn’t expect to see you today.”
“You know, I get it. I’m not often here for many days in a row. But damn. Everyone acts like they’re surprised that I didn’t vaporize during the night.”
“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.” He softens the phrase with a little grin. “So how are ya? Hanging in there?”
I lean against his truck, the metal warmed by the bright sun. The heat feels good against my muscles as I ponder his question. It’s a loaded one that I don’t know how to answer. Replying with “I’m alive” seems a little dramatic, but it’s really all I know for sure.
“How about this?” I ask, grinning back at him. “How are you? Are you hanging in there?”
His chuckle rumbles through me. “I have been worse, and I have been better.”
“Dammit! That’s a good answer. Why didn’t I think of that?”
He shakes his head, running a finger around the side of his mouth. He’s amused. That’s good.
“How long did Lolly give us to make a decision?” I ask.
“A week.”
I groan. “You know, it’s so typical of her to just put our entire lives on her schedule. And it’s not like she’s asking us to Sunday dinner. She’s asking us to get married—and holding shit over our heads. It’s probably illegal.”
“So what are you going to do? Have Sheriff Kline arrest your seventy-eight-year-old grandmother?”
I smile. “Maybe.”
“She’d talk her way out of it before she ever got to the jail.”
“You’re right,” I say, laughing. “She would.”
He blows out a breath. “I want to be mad at her. But I can’t. She’s giving me an opportunity—a messed-up one, but an opportunity nonetheless—that I could never have afforded myself.”
I look past him, down the hill and across the creek to the tree line that separates the two properties. As much as I don’t want to admit it, I understand why she’s doing this. I wish that wasn’t the case. I wish I could easily pack up and drive away, leave the manipulation behind, and not worry about it again.
Markie made a lot of sense in our conversation yesterday, and I’ve taken much of that to heart. All Lolly has ever wanted is for us to be safe and loved. And after all that she’s given me when she didn’t have to—including a house and land worth more than I’d make in a lifetime at the rate I’m going—I could at least give her a year in Sugar Creek. That’s fair.
And the Hartley piece—I get that, too. He’d never take charity. Not even from Lolly. But if he had to bleed a little for the land, if he had to earn it somehow, he’d let himself accept it.
I know she hopes that making me settle, even if only for a year, will put a taste in my mouth for that sort of life. It won’t. But I can respect her game.
Hartley runs a hand through his hair, watching me with his big, brown eyes.
It could absolutely be worse.
“So what do you think?” he asks. “Are we doing this? Because if you want to back out, I completely understand.”
“Do you want to back out?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“No, but that’s what I’m asking,” I say. “Maybe you saw Lora this morning at Piper’s when you were picking up your daily sausage, egg, and cheese sandwich.”