Chapter Twenty-Nine - Diane

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

DIANE

Even though I was confident, it's still a relief when my period comes. The day it makes an appearance, I see him, standing at a gas station talking to a group of men. While Thomas fills the truck, I duck inside to grab him a case of beer.

Westin walks up behind me, scanning the fridge.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he says. "I'm just going to get that case behind you."

I step aside, and he leans over to grab an eight-pack.

"Are you in the clear?" he says, lips barely moving.

I know what he's talking about. I keep my head down, pretending to fuss with my purse.

"Yes," I whisper. "I just got my period."

He pushes the fridge door shut, tipping his hat like he doesn't know me, and disappears. I'm dying to follow him out, just to see him give me that look. The one that makes my knees weak.

But I just go pay for the beer, like I don't know him either. My stomach is sick because I know this can't go on for much longer.

I've felt the storm rolling up over the hills for years now.

It's coming sooner than I think .

A few days later, I'm standing in the kitchen, washing the dishes. It's what I'm usually doing at this time of night on a Tuesday. The house is clean, the men are in town, and no doubt my husband is getting laid or gambling again. The house is pleasantly quiet, so it's a shock when I see lights come up the drive.

I frown, drying my hands. I'm in just my slip. I wasn't prepared for anyone to be home. The truck moves fast and comes to a quick halt. My heart jumps, and I back away from the window.

Footsteps crunch over the gravel. I barely have time to whip around before the door bangs open and Avery comes through like a bull breaking through a gate, his face dark.

I stumble back, hitting the sink.

Behind him is Thomas, and a few steps behind him comes my brother. I haven't seen David since that horrible night he gave me to the Garrisons. He looks the same, and the sight of him is like a knife to my fluttering heart.

I open my mouth, but before I can speak, Avery has me by the throat. My entire body seizes, and my legs scramble against the floor as he lifts me, just enough so I'm on my toes. My head spins. I can't breathe, my vision flashes black.

"You fucked one of them," he snarls.

Behind him, Thomas stands with his fists clenched. His face is deathly pale, and his gray eyes glitter. Time slows, and I see it, what I've dreaded for years.

This is his breaking point.

The low whistle of the oncoming train is here, and it's hitting me. Maybe it'll kill me.

My vision flickers. All I can think about is how good it felt to lay in the warm grass with Westin by the cemetery, how he was like sunshine on my tongue. Then, Avery lets me go, and I tumble to the ground, cracking the back of my head on the cabinet. Dizzy, I lay on my side, trying to get my breath back.

Avery's shoes move away. They're replaced by Thomas's brown work boots .

I wonder distantly what horrible alignment of planets led to my birth. I could have been anyone. Even being David would be better than this. But no, I was born a woman with nothing to her name.

I never stood a chance.

The toe of his boot strikes my ribs on my right side. I've never felt pain like this; it leaves me breathless, almost unable to register it.

Then, it happens again and again.

The world fades from dull colors to nothing at all, but before it does, I see my brother standing in the doorway. One more time, I wish for an ounce of remorse on my brother's face.

But he's just watching me, hands tucked behind his back, eyes like dark ice.

It hits me at the same time as Thomas' boot when David started hating me. Once upon a time, he was a sweet, little boy. But now, he's a man. He drinks with men, he talks like other men, and he sees me the way they do—as just a little less than human.

It's not clear to me that he even knows it.

The world flickers in and out. Eventually, the men are all gone. My broken body is on its side, and I'm somewhere overhead, watching it. I've never been beaten before, so I didn't realize how badly it would hurt. My stomach aches. My swollen, bruised skin is tender. I want to vomit, but I can't; my stomach muscles are loose, and I can't clench them.

My nose drips crimson on the floor. Using everything I have left, I crawl from the kitchen and make it to the bedroom. My body is bruised, but as I pull my clothes off and run my fingertips over it, I find it's not broken.

Maybe that's the best I can hope for.

Bruised, but still unbroken.

The men don't come back for two days. Patched together with rags and bandages from under the sink, I keep the ranch running as best I can. We'll need groceries in a few days. Finally, on Saturday morning, after I've put dinner into the slow cooker, I hear the door to Thomas' truck slam .

Quietly, I limp towards the back of the kitchen. A doorstop jams the back door ajar—it has since that night. I can't do that again; I need a quick escape. Boots move down the hallway, but they trip and stumble. I curl back, glancing into the sink to locate the nearest knife.

It's dirty, serrated, but within reach.

Thomas appears. He's unwashed and his face is swollen. He's drunk, with that flush men get when they have too many beers and their skin goes deep red.

Our eyes meet. He runs his hand over his face, wiping the sweat.

"I loved you," he says.

I freeze.

He spits, and I flinch. I just washed this floor.

"I saw you when you were in eighth grade and I fell in love with you," he says, fighting not to slur his words. "You're lucky it was me who got you. My brother would have torn you apart. You'd have deserved it, fucking bitch."

All my sympathy dissipates. He doesn't love me. He wants to own me just so he can crush me slowly. I've seen what men like him do to women like me.

He'll keep me in hell just to say he got what he wanted.

A fly buzzes on the screen. He sways, and the floorboards creak.

"I don't love you, Thomas," I whisper.

He blows out a breath from between his teeth. "Why? Because I'm not Westin fucking Quinn from Sovereign Mountain? Because I'm not a piece of criminal trash?"

I can't speak.

"I know it's him. Someone saw you two going up to Sovereign Mountain."

I swallow past my dry throat. Whoever that person was, they'd better die quickly before Westin finds them.

"No," I whisper. "I don't love you because you beat me."

He tries to speak, but he stumbles over his words. It doesn't really matter what he has to say. It's what he did that made all the difference .

In the last three days, I've become a different woman. The little bit of pity I had for Thomas and his weakness is gone.

There are some transgressions that can never be forgiven.

Thomas takes a step closer.

"Stay back," I whisper.

For a second, I can't tell if he's going to hit me again or burst into tears. I'm past the point where his tears would have any effect on me. Luckily, he pulls it together and clears his throat.

There's a painfully long silence.

"Fuck you," he says flatly.

I want to say that right back, but I know better. He hits the countertop, hard enough that it shudders. I flinch, drawing back.

"Please," he snaps. "You're not hurt, and you never were."

He seems to have sobered up a little, because when he stomps back to his office, his steps clip evenly. The door slams, and my heart is the only sound in the empty kitchen.

Until another car door shuts outside. Boots crunch in the driveway, but no one comes inside. My pulse races. I'm raw from fear, from the bruises on my ribs. I listen to my blood pump through my veins. In the distance, the cattle low. A nightbird cries over the field.

On my bare feet, I move down the hall. I should go to Thomas and tell him someone is here, but I'm too afraid to ask for his help.

Maybe whatever is outside isn't as bad as what's inside.

I lean against the wall and crack the door. The porch light casts a golden glow over the walkway leading up to the house. Avery stands with his hat pulled low over his face. He's dragging on a cigarette. The smoke moves in a lazy trail from his lips.

I draw back, but his gaze flicks up. His steel eyes glint in the dark.

"Come here," he says.

I can't move.

He releases a stream of smoke from his nose. "Don't make me say it twice."

Distantly, I wonder if tonight is going to be just as awful as when Thomas beat me, just awful in a different way. Shaking like a leaf in the wind, I step barefoot out on the porch. I'm in just my slip—I didn't have time to change when Thomas came back.

The straps hang off my collarbones like I'm nothing but a coat hanger. There's never any time to eat at Garrison Ranch. The days slip by like water through my fingers.

I live off scraps and a dream of going home.

He stands at the bottom of the stairs. Carefully, he takes his hat off, and I remember when Westin took his off and put it on my head, on that hot day when he drove me to the river and kissed me on the bank.

I want to live. God, I just want to live.

My dry lips part. "Whatever you do, just do it quick," I whisper.

He laughs, his teeth glinting. "You wish you were dead, huh?"

He says it like my misery is a joke. I don't answer, because the truth isn't simple. The only way I'd wish I could sleep forever is if it was in the quiet of the cemetery with Nana at my side, the silvery willow blowing above my head.

No road, no pavement to block the stars out.

Still, even if the farm was safe, I can't wish that. I know what life tastes like now.

It's sweet apple, from Westin Quinn's tongue to mine. It's the incredible, glorious pleasure of his hard, hot body. On me, inside me. It's the dirty things he says. The way he makes me want to marry him and have his babies.

No, Westin makes me want to live, even if Thomas makes me want to die.

And that's enough for me to take a step back.

"I'm going inside," I gasp out.

I spin on my heel and run, locking the door behind me. I have a faint impression of his glittering eyes as he puts his hat back on. I pull the bolt down. His boots crunch, fading away. His truck revs and skids down the driveway.

I taste his anger like smoke on the wind.

And I know I'll be burnt by its fire before too long .

I see Westin not long after. He's in town, at the grocery store. Thomas drops me off to do the shopping. I'm standing by the bakery, waiting for them to wrap up my things, when I feel him, like sunshine on my back.

I turn. He's a few yards away in the produce department. He looks good, startlingly real, the edges of his blue shirt stained with sweat where they touch his neck. His hair is brushed back. His bright hazel eyes are fixed on me like he's been watching me for some time now.

He's got an apple in his hand. Round, half red.

Our eyes meet. My body tingles, and he flexes his shoulders like something's bothering him. I get the impression of strength I only see when he's naked: warm, thick muscle, scarred by cruelty.

My lips part.

Heat floods my body.

He bites the apple, and I'm back in that bed with my head in his lap. By the glitter in his eyes that he knows what he's doing. It's no accident that I'm thinking about him naked just from the flex of his shoulders. I know how strong he is between the sheets, like a beast of burden.

Like a man who has no problem reminding some other man's wife, in the middle of the grocery store, no less, just how he took her virginity.

My toes curl in my boots.

"Here you go, ma'am," the deli clerk says.

I take the bread and sliced cheese. When I turn back around, he's gone. On the drive home, I'm silent, pressed to the door.

I wish I could just tell Westin what Thomas did to me, but I can't. If he finds out they hurt me like that, he won't wait to make sure Carter Farms is safe.

He'll do something terrible, I know it.