Chapter Seventeen - Diane

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

DIANE

He drops me off at the bottom of the hill, and I walk up the driveway. The sun is still up, half-hidden by evening clouds, and the yard is bathed in dark gold. My eyes are on my feet.

I almost don't notice the trucks lined up in a row.

My heart sinks as my steps falter. The men were supposed to be gone in the city all night, but here they are. David's truck is in the driveway, as usual.

Parked alongside are two more trucks, stamped with the Garrison Ranch logo.

I'm so scared, I can't breathe. Instead of going through the front door, I veer towards the barn. Maybe I can hide in Sunshine or Gracey's stall until they leave or fall asleep. I'm a foot from the barn door when I hear a sharp whistle.

I turn. David stands on the porch with Avery Garrison at his side. The cherry tips of their cigarettes glitter beneath lowered hats.

"Come here, Diane," David says.

There's something raw in his voice that makes my stomach drop. It sounds a bit like regret. Slowly, boots dragging, I make my way to the front porch and climb the steps. When I glance up, Avery's eyes are on me. He lifts the cigarette to his lips and takes a drag .

I shudder.

"Get inside, girl," he says.

I glance at David. He takes his hat off, smooths his hair, and looks away.

"Who's inside?" I whisper.

Avery stabs his cigarette out and pulls the door open, jerking his head. "I said, get inside."

His voice is sharp like a knife's edge. My heart thumps as I move quietly past him into the dim hall. David follows at my heels with Avery behind.

I falter in the doorway, shrinking back against the wall. Avery brushes past me and takes two shot glasses from the counter. He pours one, passes it to David, and pours another. There are papers on the table. I lean in, trying to see them, but they're turned over.

My throat is a dry lump.

Something bad is happening.

My entire body feels it, like cold water trickling down my spine. Footsteps sound on the porch, and Thomas Garrison steps in, kicking the screen shut behind me. This time, he doesn't look anywhere but right at me, like he owns me already.

My breath comes faster. My palms are wet.

His eyes are darker gray than his brothers, and his short hair is fairer. He's got one arm covered in tattoos, and he's well built, heavy with muscle. By rights, I should be attracted to him, but everything about the Garrison brothers just feels…off.

He takes the cigarette from his lip. I want to tell him not to smoke in my kitchen, but I'm too scared.

"You want to tell her?" Avery says, glancing at David.

David is the only man in this room who won't meet my eyes. He's standing at the sink, staring at his reflection in the dark window. He's still in his work clothes. His shirt is old, and there's a patch on each elbow, hand-sewed by myself.

I did that ages ago, when he was about sixteen, when he was occasionally still kind to me.

"David," I whisper. "What's happening? "

My brother's jaw works. He's only twenty-six, but he looks older. His shoulders slope from carrying too much for too long. Tonight, there's nothing behind his eyes. The last bit of my brother is gone.

My chest aches. My lashes are wet.

"David," I whisper again.

He turns, sending me a poisonous glare. "You're going with Thomas. You'll be his wife," he snaps. "Surely, you're not selfish enough to let them pave over our land? It's time you pulled your weight."

My fists clench.

"No," I breathe. "I'm not doing that."

Thomas snorts. His neck has a drunken flush that scares me. Avery leans on the sink and takes another shot before putting the whiskey up in the cupboard. He runs a hand over his mouth, his eyes lock into mine.

The corner of his mouth jerks up.

I know right then I don't need to be half as scared of Thomas as I should be of Avery.

"It's already done," Avery says.

"No, I don't… I'm not doing that," I gasp.

David pushes off the sink and grabs me roughly by the upper arm. I'm too shocked to do anything but cry out as he drags me into the living room, far from the kitchen.

He lets me go, the way he did on the back porch. But this time, I manage to catch myself.

When I turn, his eyes are burning.

"The Garrisons agreed to stop the access road," he snaps. "But Thomas wanted you, so you're going to fucking go with him. If I have to walk you into that courthouse with a gun to the back of your fucking head, I will. This is my land."

I want to spit in his face.

Instead, I start sobbing so hard, I can barely breathe. David has pushed me, slammed my head in a wall, called me a bitch and a whore. He has shamed me and bullied me any chance he got.

But I never thought he'd do this .

"How could you?" I gasp. "You gave them me for the farm, David."

"You'll be fine. Thomas Garrison is well off."

"Nana would kill you if she was alive," I snap, my chest heaving.

He goes pale and takes me roughly by the arm again. "Nana would have cut her heart out if it meant saving this farm."

He's right, Nana would have done anything to save the farm. And the truth is, if she was in my place, she would have married a man she didn't love to keep the land from being paved over.

I'm a horrible, selfish person.

But all I can think of is the way Avery looks at me. Thomas won't protect me from his brother, even if he himself doesn't hurt me. I'll be stuck on Garrison Ranch.

Easy prey.

"You were what they wanted, so you are what they're getting," David says, his voice like stone.

"Why?" My hands tremble, tangled together.

David's lashes fall. "Thomas has always wanted you. Avery…I don't know. But that's not my problem. I found a way to keep Carter's Farm safe and intact."

I run my hand under my dripping nose. "I won't sleep with him," I snap, not caring that this is an embarrassing subject to bring up to my brother. "I don't care if he's my husband."

David's eyes flicker, but he keeps them down.

"I really don't care what he does with you," he says flatly.

My face is hot and wet with tears. I sink to the couch and clasp my hands.

"If he's expecting me to be a virgin, he's too late," I whisper.

A crease appears between David's eyes. I can see the question on his face as he glances up and, recklessly, I decide to answer it.

"Westin Quinn," I say, my voice small.

His brows rise. "Are you fucking serious?"

I nod.

"From Sovereign Mountain? Jesus—fuck, Diane, don't ever tell any of the Garrisons that," he snaps .

"What? They'll kill me for not keeping my legs closed?" I snap, getting to my feet.

He grabs my elbow, dragging me close. There's real fear in his eyes.

"No, they'll kill you because he's from Sovereign Mountain," he says. "You keep quiet about it. If he asks, say it was one of the wranglers or hired help. Do not say it was Westin Quinn."

"Why do you care?" I spit softly.

"You'll be safe with Thomas," he says, the emotion leaving his voice again. "I'm making a calculated trade. I don't have a choice."

I'm speechless. The entire day was euphoric freedom and pleasure like I never imagined. It was fucking and kissing with the assurance that I would get to go home with a man who makes me feel seen, who listens when I talk, who says I belong to him.

Suddenly, that's gone.

And I'm numb.

I should have known things like Westin Quinn don't just happen to women like me. He's too alive. I'm the girl who dies rusting away at the bottom of a barrel, too small to reach the sun. I'll pack my things tonight and spend the rest of my life rotting away in misery, married to a Garrison.

I want to scream at David, but he's right that we have to do everything we can to preserve the farm. It'll break my heart if the state government comes in and exhumes Nana, taking her from the land where she was born.

If I let that happen, knowing I could have prevented it, I'll live with that regret until I die.

I can't have Westin if it means I lose the land.

"I'll do it," I whisper.

He sighs, leaning back. "Take whatever you want. Nana's dishes and quilts are yours. I just want this done tonight."

"You mean you want me gone tonight," I say, my voice empty.

He goes to the door. "Go pack your things. Anything else you want, I'll have it sent to Thomas' house later this week. He's taking you home tonight, and tomorrow, you go to the courthouse. "

He leaves, boots clipping down the hall. I hear their voices in the kitchen, and I close my eyes, leaning against the wall. The front door opens and slams. I wonder who came in from the front porch, but I don't really care. Silence falls.

"Diane."

I open my eyes. Jensen Childress stands in the dark doorway. His face is shadowed beneath his cowboy hat. It occurs to me that he's friendly with Sovereign Mountain. If I recall correctly, he knows Westin well. I lift my chin and wipe my face.

He gestures, helplessly. "I dropped by to pick up a check. Looks like I walked in on something."

"You know Westin," I say.

He nods once. "I do."

My chest constricts.

"Can you tell him that I'm sorry?" I manage.

"You're going with Thomas, aren't you?" he says, stepping into the living room.

"I need the Garrisons' protection to save the farm," I say, squaring my shoulders.

He takes his hat off, releasing a sigh. "You're brave, Diane. I've always thought that about you."

I don't feel brave. I'm so scared, my knees are weak.

"Just tell Westin I'm sorry when you see him next," I say. "He knows about the access road."

He blinks, not moving.

My throat closes. I clear it. "And tell him to stay away, that I'm handling this."

He gazes at me for a long time. Then, he dips his head once.

"And, Jensen," I whisper. "That gun you keep in your belt… Can I have that?"

He doesn't speak. I see his shoulders sink as he takes the pistol from its holster and hands it to me, pointed down. I take it and slip it into the folds of my skirt, the metal warm in my hand.

"It's fully loaded," he says, voice hoarse. "If you're at close range, make sure you have time to flip the safety first. "

"Thank you," I whisper.

He puts his hat on his head. "Good luck."

Then, he's gone. I wonder if he's going to Sovereign Mountain tonight. I hope he is. It'll break my heart if Westin waits on the hill for someone who's never coming.

Broken, I climb the stairs and creep down the hallway. My room is sticky with summer heat. My bed isn't made. I pull back the covers and stare down at the faint bloodstain.

I scrubbed it out, but it left a pale mark. It's a reminder of the best afternoon of my life, wrapped up in the heat of his body.

This house has kept me safe for twenty-one years, but tonight, it feels like a museum for the things that could have been.

If my parents had lived, maybe this wouldn't have happened.

If David hadn't turned bitter.

If Thomas Garrison hadn't decided he had to have me.

If Westin Quinn and I ever stood a chance.

Tears streaming down my face, I pack my suitcase, stuffing everything I own into it and zipping it shut. I wrap Jensen's pistol in one of my sundresses and hide it at the very bottom, beneath the worn copy of Canterbury Tales .

My entire life is in this bag.

I drag it downstairs. Thomas leans on the counter, talking with Avery. Wordless, I stand in the hallway until Thomas walks by without looking at me and beckons for me to follow. Avery pushes past him. I'm the last one through the door, and I turn, looking back.

David stands in the doorway. A tiny part of me hopes he shows a speck of remorse. Maybe it would make me forgive him for everything he's done.

But he just looks relieved.