Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 141464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
I hurry through the house, all of my attention focused on the front door.
The engine cuts off. I throw the door open and tighten my grip on the gun, keeping it pointed at the ground.
I recognize the battered blue Ford truck immediately. “What the fuck?” I mutter, hurrying down the steps, gun at my side.
Logan throws his door open and flashes a grim smile. At least it looks grim under that dumb beard he’s started growing since his uncle died.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Gravel flies in every direction as I hurry to meet him.
He shrugs and adjusts the ballcap he’s wearing. “Your phone keeps going right to voicemail. I was worried about you.”
“It’s in the truck.” I can’t decide if I’m relieved or annoyed that he’s here.
“You all right?” His gaze drops to the gun. “Were you going to shoot me?”
“Yeah, maybe.” I lift my chin toward the driveway leading off the farm. “Heard the truck. Thought it might be his people coming back.”
“Sorry.” He blows out a breath. “How’s…” His voice trails off like he can’t find the words to ask how killing my father went.
“He’s cooking in the barn.”
Logan nods once, face blank. He knows almost all of my darkest secrets and what my plans were for my father. He won’t press for details.
“What can I do?” he asks.
“A woman and her son are still here. If you can help me move them along, that’d be great. The rest of them left.”
“You got it.” He slaps my shoulder, quick and reassuring. “Jezzie okay?”
“No but she will be once I get her away from here.”
Inside, it’s silent.
“They should be in my father’s office.” I jerk my head to the side, silently asking him to follow.
Logan doesn’t waste time gawking at the frozen-in-time house I grew up in. He’d been inside at least once before he moved up north.
The office door is closed. I knock twice and push it open.
“It’s just me.”
Ruth’s standing in the middle of the room and slowly lowers her arms to her sides as we enter—as if she’d been trying to protect the kids from intruders.
Jezzie peeks out from behind the desk. She scowls at Logan, then recognition seems to sink in. “Logan?”
“Hey, Jezzie.”
Cain’s sitting in a chair in the corner, hugging a small, overstuffed backpack to his chest, ignoring all of us.
Ruth watches both of us with concerned eyes. I hold up my hands. “I didn’t know he was coming. He’s just here to check on me.”
She nods once and slowly edges toward her son.
Logan leans closer to me. “I can wait outside.”
“Jensen, there are a few things I’d like to take from the house, if that’s okay,” Ruth says, staring at the ground like my father probably trained her to do when speaking to him. “We’re taking the van.”
“Yeah.” Relief floods through me. Anything to get her going. Take the whole fucking house, lady. I’m planning to burn it down anyway. “Whatever you want.”
“I’ll help her load it up,” Logan offers.
Another hour later, Logan has the van backed up to the front porch with the doors open wide. Dust from the gravel drive floats in the air, mixing with the scent of old wood, fresh grass, and exhaust fumes. Inside the van, a few pieces of furniture are strapped down—an old wooden rocking chair, a few suitcases, a weathered cedar chest, a heavy antique sewing machine, and a box of cast iron pans.
“All right, Cain, say goodbye,” Ruth says, her voice tight but steady.
“No!” Cain bolts toward Jezzie and throws his arms around her. She hugs him back, bends down, and whispers something in his ear. Whatever she says makes him shake his head violently, tears streaking down his cheeks.
It’s the first real emotion I’ve seen from him all day.
The first sliver of doubt needles its way inside me.
But I don’t know what else to do.
My aunt agreed to take care of Jezzie—her niece. Showing up with my father’s widow and her kid in addition to Jezzie, isn’t an option.
“Cain, it’s okay,” Ruth says gently, holding out her hand. “We’ll call Jensen when we’re settled.”
That’ll be hard to do without my number.
Something brushes against my conscience. Guilt, probably. Or the faint echo of a soul. I’ve just ripped this kid from his home, his family, and maybe a father who hadn’t started showing him the business end of a bullwhip yet.
I pull the ring I took off my father’s finger out of my pocket and crouch down in front of Cain. “Be good for your mom, okay? Don’t take shit from anyone.”
He drops his gaze to the ring and frowns. “The monster wears that.”
“Not anymore.” I hold it out to him. “You keep it, so the monsters stay away.”
His eyes widen and he plucks the ring from my palm and holds it up with both hands and stares at it. After a few seconds, he slips the ring on his thumb and closes his fist around it.