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)
Pressing his forehead against my stomach, he groans—deep and feral as if it is I who is torturing him. My fingers weave through his thick, wet hair.
Milo’s hands slide up my legs beneath my dress. My heart, thrashing around in my chest, feels like it could break the bones surrounding it. He inhales deeply, a trembling breath, while his fingertips barely touch my skin. My palms slap against the door behind me to steady myself. The pain is real. I need him.
His patience? Hesitancy? Guilt? I’m not sure what it is, but it’s killing me. In this one moment, he’s making four years feel like forty years.
Why is he so tortured? What happened to his family? Why does Fletcher have so many strings tied to Milo, each one being manipulated to make him and everyone he cares about suffer?
“Milo?” Jolene pounds on the bedroom door.
I freeze.
Milo doesn’t flinch; he simply remains idle, fingers whispering along my skin, shoulders lifting and falling with each breath. What is he thinking?
God …
What. Is. He. Thinking?
In the next breath, he stands, tightening the towel around his waist—replacing the dress strap onto my shoulder.
My head drops while I step aside to let him slide open the door.
“Milo?” More banging on the door.
He shuts off the bathroom light, leaving me in the dark.
“Yes?” he says, opening the bedroom door.
“Where’s Indie?”
“Am I her keeper?”
“Is she in here?”
“Yes. I have her hidden under the bed.”
Jolene groans her frustration. “Can you be serious for a second? One of my clients has been arrested. I have to go.”
“I need to—”
“Milo, I don’t care what you need to do. Take him. Find Indie and tell her to do her job.”
Jolene’s heels click against the floor, slowly fading.
Drawing in a brave breath, I step out of the bathroom like we didn’t just have an incredibly intimate moment. “I’ll put him to bed,” I murmur.
Milo pats Benjamin’s back. “No. He’s not your child. I’ll do it.”
I avert my gaze and nod several times while sidestepping him to get out of the room as quickly as possible.
“That’s …” he sighs. “Indie, I didn’t mean it like that. I just …”
I stop with my back to him, tears fighting to escape.
“I meant he shouldn’t be your responsibility.”
“Yeah, well, you were right the first time too.”
“Indiana …”
I drudge my way through the emotional baggage chained to my neck and look for any sort of refuge.
34
DON’T LOOK BACK
I stare at the ground below my window. It’s three in the morning. If I fall and break my neck, it will be several hours before anyone finds me. Should be about the right amount of time to die.
My bag goes first, landing with a soft thud.
Gripping my ladder of bedsheets, like Ruthie taught me to do if there was a fire, I crawl out the window. Everything tightens, letting me slip a few quick inches as the knots cinch beneath my weight and my breath catches in my throat.
Slowly, I loosen my grip and then tighten it, inching my way to the ground. When my feet feel the earth, a sigh breaks free, and I sling my bag over my shoulders. The entrances to the ranch are heavily guarded, so I have to navigate the pastures and hope I don’t get trampled by a spooked horse, angry bull, or mountain lion.
My flashlight illuminates the uncertain path before me. I can’t do it. I can’t live in this prison.
“Where you going?”
I jump, my hand whipping the flashlight like a saber toward the fence.
Milo’s propped against a post, one leg crossed over the other, hands in his pockets.
“W-what are you doing?”
“I finished feeding Benjamin, and I heard something. Never did I expect to see you fleeing out the window at three in the morning. So I’ll ask you again, where are you going?”
“Away.”
“I didn’t tell Fletcher. He had me followed.”
“Doesn’t matter.” I duck to slip between the fence posts.
“I can’t let you.” He grabs my arms and pulls me toward him.
My feet stumble. “Let go of me.” I wriggle.
“Dammit, Indie … it’s been four miserable years without you. Every part of my life has been a fucking disaster for as long as I can remember. This is not normal. This life … it’s just … not even close to normal. Do you know how many days I wonder what I’m even doing? What’s the point? Fletcher’s gonna let my sister die if I don’t find her. And if I put a bullet in his head, I’ll walk in my brother’s shoes and die strapped to a table with a needle in my arm.” He tightens his grip on my arms. “And I’m…” his voice drops to barely a whisper “…I’m okay with that fate if it means you and Annie are free.”
His words spin in my head, ricocheting off things that should make sense and crashing into every dream and false perception of reality I’ve ever had. I don’t want Milo to die for me. This is madness.