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)
My mouth finds his, and I kiss him with everything I have inside me. I don’t care who sees us. I don’t care what questions I’ll have from friends or overly curious parents.
Milo doesn’t pull back one single inch. His tongue slides against mine, and he hums with me. His fingers comb through my hair. Eventually, they land on my lower back.
Pressing my hands to his cheeks, I lean back to look at him. “Tell me. How did you manage this?”
He lifts his shirt partway up his torso.
“What happened?” I grimace at the bandaged area just below his ribs.
“Officially, I had a run-in with the barbed wire fence this morning after a bull got loose. Unofficially, I took a knife to myself so that I needed stitches, which meant I wouldn’t make it to the law school graduation in time because the drive was too long.”
My fingertips trace the bandage. “Jesus, Milo …” My stomach twists. “You hurt yourself just to be here for me?”
“It’s just a few stitches.”
My gaze lifts to his, and a new round of tears fill my eyes.
He knows it’s not “just a few stitches.” That’s why he averts his gaze for a moment. Is he ashamed? Or is he just as desperate as I am?
“It’s no big deal, Indie girl.” He looks at me again before kissing my forehead while letting his shirt fall back in place. “Just another scar. I have a million of them.”
Again, I hug him, emotion too thick in my throat to speak. When I do find words, I make them as light as possible. “I can’t believe he didn’t copter you to the graduation.”
“His helicopter is down for the next week.”
I can’t stop grinning. “Listen, I have to go see Faye and Grandma Hill. Wait for me?”
“I only have a couple of hours, and then I have to get back before Fletcher returns home and finds out I’m not there resting my injury.”
“I’m going home too, but I don’t want to return just yet. We need to celebrate.” I turn and take a few steps.
“Yes, we should celebrate one of us graduating high school.”
My head whips backward. “Why didn’t you graduate?”
Milo shakes his head, slipping his hands into his front pockets. “Life.”
I shrug. “I wasn’t talking about that anyway. I meant we need to celebrate you being here, not me graduating.” I blow him a kiss and navigate the lumpy grass toward the front of the school.
“Indiana …” Faye opens her arms, and I run into them. “Congratulations, darlin’.”
“Thank you.” I release her and hug Grandma Hill. She’s getting older with pointy bones like an over-sharpened pencil that I don’t want to break. And she always smells like apricots. I don’t know why. She just always has.
“Ruthie’s watching you, honey. And I know she’s so proud,” Grandma says.
I nod, fighting the tears. “I know,” I whisper.
“I have video of the whole thing if Fletcher wants it,” Faye says.
With a tight grin, I give her a look. She knows what I’m thinking.
“He’s never recovered from losing her. He’d be a different father to you if she were still alive. Grief has slowly killed him.” Faye makes excuses for him. She does it because she loved Ruthie, and it’s hard to imagine someone so wonderful could ever be with someone so awful.
“Can we take you to lunch?” Grandma asks.
“Um … actually, I have plans with a … friend.”
“That’s fine, darlin’.” Faye reaches forward and squeezes my hand. “You’re young. Enjoy this time of your life.”
“That’s the plan.”
For a few more weeks, I’m going to enjoy my life. Then I’m going to hate life with a passion.
After Faye and Grandma Hill hug me, I slip off my heels and run back to Milo. As I approach, his grin grows into something so big I can feel it before I reach him.
“Let’s go.” I fly into his arms, and he catches me without falling to the ground when I wrap my legs around his waist.
When he flinches, I cringe. “Sorry.” My gaze slides to his cut.
He shakes his head like it’s no big deal. It’s a huge deal.
“Where are we going?”
I kiss his cheek next to his ear and whisper, “Anywhere. Just drive.”
Milo drives.
I open the window and let the warm wind scatter my hair and my imagination in every direction. In a different life, Milo would marry me. Or not. Does marriage matter? If he’s marrying Jolene, I don’t think there’s an ounce of sanctity left in exchanging vows.
Milo doesn’t have to marry me. His love is enough. I’d rather be his Indie girl than an appointed wife.
“Where are we?” I ask when he pulls onto a long gravel road with nothing but acres of pasture on every side.
Milo rolls down his window and types a code for the black iron gates to open. “It’s Fletcher’s newest purchase. Over five hundred thousand acres of—”