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)
Roman glances back at me from the front passenger seat. “You okay?”
I nod, breaths labored. “I will be.”
Four hours later, I’m fantastically drunk for the first time and miserably sick. The alcohol doesn’t have the same effect coming up as it did going down. Every muscle in my stomach hurts, and my throat feels raw.
“Um … there’s a black truck outside,” Hallie says as Camden steps into the half bath and hands me a washcloth to wipe the vomit from my cheek.
“My dad?” I hug my stomach and sway slightly on unsure legs toward the window. “I should have turned off my location.”
Camden’s parents are gone for the night. Nobody needed to know my whereabouts, especially the fucker who stole me.
But it’s not Fletcher’s black truck; it’s Milo’s. He strides through the rain with his cowboy hat shielding his face.
Roman scrambles to open the door, no doubt worried that he’s in trouble too. Milo brushes past him, straight to me.
“You’re such a fucking pussy for marrying Jolene,” I slur my words. I should have drunk until I forgot about Jolene’s stupid existence in this world.
Milo stops, eyes narrowed for several seconds. “How much have you had to drink?”
I laugh, stumbling backward a few steps. “Not enough. Not nearly enough.”
“What are you talking about?” Hallie asks with a little laugh. “Jolene is getting married?”
Milo scoops me up in his arms. “She’s drunk. Don’t listen to her.” He carries me to his truck and plops my ass in the front seat before belting me into it. Rain drenches both of us.
I start to speak, but he shuts my door. By the time he climbs into the driver’s seat, I’m out.
The next thing I remember is waking up with an urgent need to vomit again, but I’m not in my bed. I’m not sure where I’m at when the poison in my stomach causes my muscles to seize, the contents lurching into my throat. “Help …” I croak, scrambling to my feet in the dark.
“Hold it … just hold it …” Milo says, wrapping an arm around my waist and rushing me to the toilet.
I hurl twice before falling back onto my butt. Milo flushes the putrid-smelling liquid down the toilet, closes the seat, and sits on it. My curled body slumps onto the warm, wood floor at his feet.
“What have I told you about eavesdropping?” he asks.
I don’t recall him saying anything about eavesdropping. The only thing I remember right now is how my heart shattered when he silently agreed to marry Jolene.
“He’s just doing what’s best for the family.”
I grunt a laugh, hugging my roiling stomach. My mouth tastes like ass. “My friends have parents who do what’s best for their families too, but they’re not arranging marriages. And for that matter, they didn’t buy children for a million dollars. Oh my god …” I groan. “He thinks I’m his property, but not the good kind of property like Jolene.” My gaze shoots to Milo’s. I can’t see much, just a tiny reflection in his eyes from the nightlight next to the sink.
Instant tears.
My lower lip quivers. “H-he thinks I’m h-his p-property … n-not real f-family.” It’s not news. I’ve known this. Alcohol must have a way of bringing up the worst parts of my past and presenting them as new information.
“You’re no one’s property.” Milo takes my hands and pulls me to my feet.
My knees buckle, so he once again carries me, this time to his bed, and tucks me under the sheets. It’s been a long time since I’ve slept in Milo’s bed. I don’t remember when I stopped going to him for comfort. It just happened.
I inhale a shaky breath. Leather, coffee, cinnamon …
“You’re free to marry whoever the fuck you want. You’re luckier than Jolene, times a million. Now, sleep it off,” he says. “Forget about what you heard. He had a bad night with a bad idea. I don’t think any of this will come to fruition.”
Liar. He knows … we both know Fletcher gets what Fletcher wants. And he’s holding something ginormous over Milo’s beautiful head.
“Go to sleep, Indie girl.”
Indigo …
He covers me with an extra blanket and takes another blanket to the sofa, where he collapses for the night. The days of Milo sleeping in this bed with me are over.
I fear many things are over.
5
MY MILO
I’m mad at Fletcher for being such an asshole.
I’m mad at Milo for … well, I’m not sure, but I'm mad at him.
It’s become my new obsession this summer. I spend night after night having nightmares about Milo marrying Jolene. Milo kissing Jolene. Milo having sex with Jolene. I hate closing my eyes at night because I can’t make it stop.
This goes on for weeks. Fletcher and Milo go about their business like there isn’t a dowery attached to Jolene. And whenever I have the same dream, I awaken feeling out of sorts. Sweaty. Gasping for breath. And … embarrassed. Not because Fletcher is a horrible human. Nope. I’m embarrassed because I want to marry Milo. Jolene probably isn’t a virgin. I’m a virgin. Don’t dowries go with virgins?