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)
“Milo, Indie had an altercation this morning. She works in a bad neighborhood. Thank goodness Ty happened to be there to save her.” Jolene’s voice shakes a little, as it should. If she thinks I’m going to physically do harm to someone very soon … she’s right.
Indie doesn’t move, not even a blink.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Milo, hurry up and shower so we can eat. Indie, come meet Benjamin.”
“No one will ever touch—”
“Don’t,” Indie’s low voice cuts through me.
There is nothing discernible between how she looks at me and how she looks at Fletcher. And it guts me.
“You can’t tell me the truth. How the fuck are you going to protect me?” she mumbles, shouldering past me to make her way to Jolene.
As Jolene’s voice gushes with fake motherly pride to introduce Benjamin to Indie, I escape to the bathroom. I can’t listen to it. And I can’t watch it.
I think of Annie. I have to keep thinking about Annie. After my shower, I join everyone for dinner.
“Indie, why don’t you take Benjamin to the nursery and get him ready for bed? There should be jammies in one of the closet drawers, and all the diapers are by the changing table,” Jolene says like she has a fucking clue where his things are in his room.
“I’ll get him ready for bed,” I say, reaching to pluck him from his swing in the corner of the dining room.
“Milo, sit down and eat. You don’t need to do Indie’s job,” Fletcher dictates from his wheelchair at the head of the table.
Indie has a full plate of food in front of her. It doesn’t look like she’s taken a single bite. She pushes back in her chair and ignores me while going to Benjamin.
“One of the partners is married to someone who used to be one of your accountants,” Jolene says to Fletcher as I ease into my chair, unable to look away from Indie, lifting a fussy Benjamin onto her shoulder.
I wouldn’t say she looks like a natural with him, but she’s way better than Jolene, who holds him away from her body as much as possible. It’s as if she thinks he will get his baby smell onto her.
This is not how most people live.
Most people marry for love. And children are not insurance policies for family legacies. And families might fight, but most don’t go to these extremes to be so flat-out cruel.
I detest every one of them for how they’re treating Indie. It’s only a matter of time before I end Fletcher’s miserable life. When Annie and Indie are safe, I will take down every single one of these despicable people. If Benjamin never sees his mom again, he’ll be better off.
They are the worst stains on humanity. Pieces of shit wrapped in hundred-dollar bills.
“You’re quiet, Milo. What’s on your mind?” Jolene asks, blotting her lips.
“Ty said one of Rooney’s guys took my horse,” Fletcher eyes me.
I shove a spoonful of potatoes into my mouth and shrug. “I heard that too.”
“I also heard he’s still using up oxygen. You getting soft on me?”
Fletcher doesn’t make it a habit of talking shop outside of his office. I glance at Jolene and Pauline, but I don't sense any shock from the women’s bowed heads. It must be nice to pretend this life is earned and not stolen. Do they pretend the houses, cars, fancy clothes, and diamonds come from good guys working hard on a ranch, doing the right thing?
Pushing back my chair, I toss my napkin onto the table and stand. “I can assure you, I’m not getting soft.”
“Where are you going?” Jolene asks.
“I’m going to rock Benjamin to sleep.”
She frowns. “Indie needs to learn to do that.”
I let the smallest of smiles bend my lips. “Then I’ll teach her.”
All eyes are on me—and all are filled with distrust.
“I’ll be up in a few minutes,” Jolene says, giving me a challenging smile.
“Suit yourself.”
When I reach the nursery, I wait just around the corner. Benjamin’s fussing, but not a full-on cry. He’s in his crib, kicking his arms and legs. With her hands resting on the railing, Indie stares at him with an emotionless expression.
“Jolene likes him to self-soothe to sleep,” I say.
Indie doesn’t move. It’s as if I’m not speaking.
“I rock him to sleep.” Picking him up, I hug him to my chest and sit in the rocking chair that faces the window. “He didn’t ask to be born into such a fucked-up family. The least I can do is try to give him something that might cultivate a little compassion and decency in him.”
Indie hasn’t moved. She stares down into the crib as if he’s still there.
“I wanted to tell you,” I whisper, the words almost too heavy in my chest to reach my lips. “I just didn’t want to tell you everything at once. It felt like telling you about Fletcher was enough.”