Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 77936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Everyone loved him, including you, but he puked every morning.” Lovelorn’s golden boy had had a secret. Mom knew because she’d had to haul him off to Durango for doctors, even Denver, trying to figure out why a kid who had everything was making himself sick over it. I knew because I was the little brother who’d seen Mel cry more than once after harsh words from our father. “He had an ulcer by eighteen from worrying about this ranch. That shit’s not normal.”
“So he had a tetchy stomach. He would have outgrown that.” Dad pursed his thin lips. He’d lost weight himself since they’d died, down to bone, muscle, and stubbornness. “He knew how to cowboy up.”
“You would have run him into the ground, just like you run half the hands away. Just like you’re driving me away.” I dragged the knife through the cake, cutting a rectangle with a viciousness I hadn’t known I possessed. “I’m going. You can’t stop me. You can keep living in the past for Mel and Mom, but I can’t do it.”
“Don’t think you can come back with your tail between your legs when your big California dreams crumble into the ocean. That shit ain’t real.” My father spoke like I had any dreams beyond escape and being my own boss.
“I’m not coming back.” I had vague ideas of starting a business, but for four years of survival, not Hollywood fortune, had been the goal. I’d latched onto California because it was as far west as I could go without hitting the ocean. Sunny days and no snow sounded excellent to me.
“Good.” His eyes narrowed, hard like a diamond blade and equally deadly. “Stay gone. Not like you’re worth much here. Always running off to town. You’d think the Jennings adopted you.”
“I wish they would.” I had no idea what Colt’s family would make of us kissing. His mom might watch that gay TV show, but it didn’t mean she’d welcome it in her home. I could hope though. And I’d spent years now wishing I was one of the many Jennings kids or cousins. “At least they treat me right.”
“I gotta get ready for this buyer.” He stalked toward the door, not even giving me a final look.
“That’s it?” I demanded. In front of me, the cake lay so mangled it might as well have been laced with arsenic for all I wanted to eat it. I scooped the whole mess right into the trash.
“You want me to say it so badly, don’t you?” He turned on his boot heel, like a horse in the arena, all that power pivoting. “Hell yes, I’d trade everything to get Mel and your mom back.”
“Even me and Faith.” I didn’t make it a question. I’d known the answer. But I had one more question, one that kept me up at night. “Would you trade the ranch?”
That he wanted Mel and my mom back was no surprise, nor was him having no use for me. But I had to wonder what he loved more—the ranch or his son? His legacy or his duty? He’d trade me for Mel, but would he have given up the ranch for Mel? I doubted it. Generations of miserable Lovelorns had ensured duty would always win.
“We’re done here.” He slammed the door behind him.
So was I. Done. Over. Ready to leave this place in my dust, and barring that, I couldn’t get to the diner where all the Jennings were celebrating Colt’s graduation fast enough. Aunt Georgia had seen fit to close for the afternoon, family over profits, a motto Melvin Lovelorn would be hard-pressed to understand.
“Maverick! You made it!” Colt rushed over, but Aunt Georgia was faster.
“Wasn’t sure if you’d stop by.” She threw an arm around me, steering me toward the food table. “Did they have a big to-do for you at the ranch?”
“Faith sent a cake.” Accurate. Somehow, I delivered the line without gagging. The memory of how I’d hacked it up during the argument with my father ensured I wouldn’t be eating anytime soon.
“Oh, that’s nice.” Aunt Georgia beamed, undoubtedly picturing a crowd at the ranch equal to the one here, with streamers, signs, and smiling faces. “Something fancy, I bet.”
“Wish her wedding had been here, not Houston,” Colt’s mother joined in. Like Colt, she was tall and broad-shouldered with dark-brown hair and hazel eyes. “Would have been nice to see her all done up.”
“She got her dress in New York City. Some big-name designer.” Aunt Georgia was best friends with Miss Minnie, who’d run the Lovelorn Press since forever, and was perhaps the most devoted fan of its gossip pages.
I considered the wedding trip more of a horror story, a long-ass, silent drive with my father who refused to fly, barely in Houston long enough to give Faith away to her older oil-rich husband. I’m not sure I would have noticed had Faith worn a feed sack because all I’d cared about was getting back home to Colt.