Chapter Fifty-Eight - Diane

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

DIANE

TWO MONTHS LATER

It takes weeks for Westin to find the deed to Carter Farms. There's little to no professional record of the land. The entire thing will need to be surveyed again to make sure the original property lines are correct. Westin explains what he's doing to get it in our name. It's complicated, and he has Sovereign's lawyer working with him to locate the proper documentation.

All I know is, every day I wake up, and I wish I was home.

I'm alone at the gatehouse a lot during the early fall. Keira is pregnant and exhausted, so I help her when she needs it. When she doesn't, I ask Westin to pick up boxes in town, and I start packing the gatehouse up, one room at a time, fantasizing about when we'll have our own place together.

It's early October one night when Westin comes home for dinner. I'm setting out bowls of stew and fresh bread. Billie lays by the fire, gnawing on a toy Westin brought her from the general store. Everything feels so cozy and perfect, but in my heart, something is off.

"Come here, darling," he says.

He's standing in the door, cool air swirling. I go to him, and he kisses me deeply. Something is going on.

I pull back, and he presses something into my hand. My pulse rises as I realize it's a piece of paper, faded, yellowed with age, like it was kept somewhere damp.

"What is this?" I whisper.

"Open it."

Hands weak, I unfold it. It's the deed to Carter Farms, all seven hundred acres of it. And at the bottom, typed out in neat script, it lists the legal owner:

David Carter and Diane Carter.

My head is empty. I'm in the meadow, and a meadowlark rises from the tall grass.

All this time, my name was on the deed. David lied. Maybe it wouldn't have mattered—I never had the freedom to act anyway—but it explains why he was never able to sell to the Garrisons.

Maybe it explains why Avery wanted me married into their family in the first place. I wasn't just a woman Thomas wanted. I was also seven hundred acres of debt free land.

My head spins.

It doesn't matter anymore. None of it matters.

The darkness of the past fades, like misty dew dissipating under warm sun. I lick my dry lips and lift my eyes to my husband. He's looking at me with a faint smile, like he's never been prouder.

"Where was it?" I whisper.

"Nailed under the floorboards of David's room," he says.

My throat is lumpy and dry. I swallow as hot tears slip from my lashes. Westin catches me in his arms and carries me to his chair at the head of the table. I push my forehead against his collarbone, letting tears slip silently down and wet the front of his shirt.

"Can I go home now?" I whisper.

His arms tighten, broad and strong, always there when I crumple .

"Of course, darling," he says. "Let's go home."

The next morning, we go into town to buy fabric and lumber. Westin says he wants to do some repairs on the house that will take a couple of weeks. I'm going to start making new curtains for him to hang up. He leaves me in the general store at the fabric counter while he loads the truck with two-by-fours.

As I'm paying, I look down. There's a newspaper stand at my elbow. The top line, in bold, black ink, reads: Remains Found in River Finally Identified .

I look up quickly to avoid reading the rest. The cashier offers me a smile, and I smile back, like I never saw a thing.

Westin comes in as I'm bagging my purchases up. He leans across to set his ticket for the lumber down and takes out his wallet.

"Get a couple of those candies you like, darling," he says.

Obediently, I take a handful and set it beside his ticket. The cashier finishes ringing us up, and Westin pays, gathering up our bags. He takes my hand, and we step out onto the street.

Everything is sunny, but it smells crisp like winter is on its way. I hold his hand tight on the drive home. We don't talk much, and the silence is so comfortable. I can see how at peace he is, how relaxed his shoulders are now.

He has everything he wants.

And so do I.

It's a month later, deep in October, when he comes home at three in the afternoon. I'm out on the porch, tying up bundles of cedar to burn in the winter. He stands at the bottom of the steps, his hat hanging by his leg, sun streaming behind him and the air smelling like dead leaves and moss from the forest.

"Let's go home," he says quietly.

My heart hammers the entire drive down the mountain. He packed an overnight bag. Billie sits on my right, head hanging out the window. There's the remainder of the bottle of whiskey Keira and Gerard gave us jammed between the seats. My book sits up on the dashboard. My hands are clasped in my skirt, knuckles white .

When we pull up, I roll the window down and sit there, staring at the house. I'm dimly aware of him getting out and circling the truck. My door opens, and Billie scrambles over me, jumping to the ground. I tear my eyes off the house and fix them on my husband.

Westin takes his hat off and fits it on my head. "There you go," he says. "So the sun doesn't bleach your hair."

My chin quivers. His strong hands circle my waist, and he lifts me down and takes my hand. The house swims in my vision. He cleaned everything— the siding, the walkway, even the flowerbeds so they're ready in the spring. There's a whitewashed swing on the porch and a sapling planted in the front lawn.

He turns me around, puts me in front of the door, and takes a step back.

"You look good," he says.

I smile shakily. He looks at me for a minute longer, and then he takes a set of brand-new keys out of his pocket and opens the front door. It swings in, and he lets me go first, his hand on my lower back.

Everything smells like I remember, but clean and empty. My boots are loud on the floor. I look down, seeing the faint lines where he replaced creaky boards. The wallpaper is torn down, and the walls are painted cream. In the kitchen, he put in new cabinets and countertops. The walls here are lemon yellow, and he hung the curtains I made.

I stop, arms wrapped around my body.

He did this.

I turn on my heel, and he's standing over me, taking his hat off my head.

"Give me a kiss, darling," he says huskily.

I'd give him anything he wanted right now. He kisses me, slow and deep. Then, he takes my hand and leads me through the dining room. The big table is gone, replaced by a pale pine table big enough for four. On the far side, he opens the office door. I lean in, and my jaw drops.

He stripped David's office bare and knocked down the wall to the adjoining storage closet to make more room. The floorboards are all replaced with pale, glossy wood. There's a big bed made up with creamy sheets and a quilt. Gauzy curtains hang over the big window that looks out over the back yard. There's a soft, braided rug in the center of the room and a pine dresser.

"It's beautiful," I whisper.

"This is our room," he says, arm around my waist.

"What about the bedrooms upstairs?" I ask, turning to look up at him.

The corner of his mouth jerks up.

"Those rooms are for the babies," he says.

My brows shoot up. "What babies are those, Mr. Quinn?"

He picks me up and tosses me onto the bed before he climbs on top of me. "The babies we're about to make in this bed," he says, burying his face in my neck. "Goddamn, you smell so sweet, darling."

After we break in the bed, he gets the overnight bag from the truck. I chase Billie to the barn. Somehow, Westin found time to bring Gracey and Sunshine back to their stalls. They're settled in with clean water and hay. I take a minute to scratch their ears. Then, I'm headed over the field to the willow grove.

He doesn't follow me.

The gate is brand new. There's a real latch that closes when it swings shut. The grass is cut back and…he bought headstones for my parents. They're modest, but they match my Nana's perfectly.

I stand there, arms around my body, staring up at the sky with tears streaming down my face.

I don't need to close my eyes and see my Nana's face to know she's smiling. It's in the soft, autumn wind in the willow branches. It's in the sun creeping towards the dusky blue mountains. It winds through the shadows at the edge of the woods. It ripples through the golden grass, and it follows me like a whisper as I take the path back home.

I did my share of waiting, of talking to the dead.

It's time to get to living .

Westin is on the front porch, sitting in the same chair from the day he took me out on our first date. His long legs are sprawled out, his hat pulled low. I step between his boots and take his hands.

"Thank you," I say, my voice fragile. "For everything."

He just gives me that slow smile. "Anything for you, darling."

Over the next few days, we slowly move our things from the gatehouse. Then suddenly, we're waving goodbye to the ranch. Sovereign stands on the porch with Keira at his side, her hand on her growing stomach. I watch as they fade away down the driveway.

Then, it's just us. It feels incredibly significant, and not only for me. Westin went from living with his father to spending every day with Sovereign. This will be his first home that belongs to him. I've never had a choice where and how I want to live. Now, we're striking out on our own.

The future is big and full of possibilities, and there's no one I'd rather discover it with than Westin.

Three days after moving in, I get up one morning and go to brush my teeth. Westin is already out in the barn. I hear him calling Billie and Red, the border collie who used to belong to David. I lean over and look through the bathroom window to see him leading Sunshine and Rocky out to the back pasture.

I crack the window. The air smells like winter.

I'm ready to settle down until spring comes. The house is cozy, the barn full.

I go to put my toothbrush back and pick up my birth control. My hands falter. A strange feeling creeps over me that takes me a minute to identify.

I think I'm ready for a baby. Westin has been ready since the day he met me, and he's not shy about voicing it. My body never felt safe enough to entertain the thought. Now, I think it does. Quietly, I put the packet away in the drawer and fold a washcloth over it.

He comes in, bringing crisp air on his clothes. It's free-use night. Somehow, it's so much more exciting knowing I didn't take my pill. We eat in the dining room. He goes out to lock up the barn. I clean the kitchen and shower before bed .

When he comes back in, I'm in the slip he likes, waiting at the foot of the bed. He doesn't look at me; he just walks right past. I stay perfectly still, back straight, hands folded in my lap.

He comes out looking like sin in those sweatpants. I keep my eyes on my hands. I hear him sliding the little compartment on the bed frame open and taking my restraints out.

My heart hammers.

"Come here, darling," he says.

I go to him, letting him help me up on the bed. He fastens my wrists above my head before he kneels between my legs and slips a blindfold over my eyes.

Every sense comes alive.

Hot breath on my inner thighs. The gentle scratch of his beard on my skin. His hot tongue sliding over my clit, dipping down to push inside me.

My toes curl.

Oh God, so it's going to be that kind of night.

He makes me come until I'm gasping and shaking. Then, he takes the blindfold off, kisses me, and puts me over his knee. He doesn't spank me very often. Most of the time if I break a rule, I get tied up with a vibrator on my clit until I sob. But tonight, he spanks me until I feel heat rise from my skin. Then, he fucks me, limp and tingling, into the new mattress.

We're both exhausted but satisfied when we're done. He wipes my body clean, rubs lotion into my reddened skin, and holds me until my eyes close.

The sex is rougher, harder, in the following week. Every night, I sleep soundly, my body so relaxed that I wake up feeling brand new in the morning. I think I know what he's doing, but we don't talk about it. This time, I let him have control.

My body slowly works its way out of fight or flight.

Winter creeps in. Snow swirls in November. Ice makes patterns on the windows at night. I start cutting out squares for a baby quilt and wonder when it will happen. We're in no hurry, but I want to give him this. He's given me so much.

But we can wait. I'm safe. He's there.

All is right in our small corner of the world.