Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 203(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 203(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
“Yep, going after her as soon as Fletch gives me some information.” I put the phone to my ear. Lawson’s eyebrows shoot upward, wondering what the hell I’m up to.
“This is Fletcher Wild,” he answers on the second ring.
“Hey, Fletch, it’s Ryland Johnson. How ya doing?” No point in acting like an asshole and getting right into it.
“Hey, Ry, doing good. Whenever one of the Johnson Brothers calls, something is up.” I laugh at his statement. He’s not wrong. Lawson and Fletch shoot the shit once or twice a week. When there’s an occasion, one of us will head down to Georgia, or Fletch and Delilah will make a trip up here.
“You got that right. Can you look into Sutton Sullivan? Former name Sutton Rawlins. Don’t have her date of birth, but she does live here in Arrowleaf,” I give him what little details I have.
“What exactly am I looking into?” I hear Fletch clicking away on the other end of the line, more than likely inputting the information into his database.
“Divorce status.” Lawson lets out a low whistle. Fletch pauses in his typing.
“Another Johnson bites the dust. Welcome to the good side, brother. As for the status, looks like the final papers were filed a few months ago. You’re free to go get your woman.” Jesus, the way my chest finally unclenches. The inner turmoil of jacking off to visions of Sutton every night for what seems like a damn millennium no longer makes me feel like a piece of shit.
“Thanks, appreciate you lookin’ it up for me. Anytime you need something, I’ll return the favor. Day or night, Fletch,” I respond.
“Welcome, and I’ll hold you to it.” We say our goodbyes as fast as we said hellos. That’s Fletcher Wild. He’d do anything for you, but when he’s at work, he’s laser-focused.
“Mom is going to eat this shit up.” Lawson has a shit-eating grin on his face.
“She won’t be the only one. Case is infatuated with His Sutty.” My boy lights up whenever she’s around. It’s different from when he’s around his family; he’s himself then, but when he’s with Sutton out in public, it’s something entirely different.
“Case isn’t the only one infatuated, Ry.” We toss around a few more words before Lawson heads toward the barn and I head in the same direction, him veering one way and me the other. I’ve got cattle to look after, and he’s got ledgers to deal with. No fucking thanks. I’d rather be in a saddle all day for the rest of my life.
SEVEN
SUTTON
“I heard you,” Shane sneers as he delivers his statement. I’m walking through the house ready to start my day, and wouldn’t you know it, the cleaning I did last night was all for nothing. There are more food containers and beer cans as well as dirty laundry. How, literally how, does one person make this mess in a matter of hours? On my break today, I’m going to have to make my way to the police station or the courthouse and figure out the procedure to evict him from my home.
I’m tired of walking on eggshells.
I’m tired of not being able to use my whole house.
I’m tired of Shane Sullivan screwing with me.
I’m just plain tired.
“Excuse me?” I’m taken aback by his harsh words. Last night after coming home, cleaning the house up, going through what Ms. Catherine gave me, having a bit of a meltdown, and taking a shower, I passed out.
“I heard you.” Shane takes a step toward me. There’s malice in his eyes, his body is rigid, and the tone of his voice is the one I’ve tried to stay away from. I try as hard as I can to come up with a reason on why he keeps bringing up that he heard me.
“And?” I’m not picking up what he’s putting down. I study him. He looks like he’s been ridden hard and put up wet. I’m not sure the last time he’s changed or taken a shower. His hair is greasy, the strands sticking up every which way, and the deep circles beneath his eyes are purple, like he hasn’t slept in weeks. Even his skin looks pale and sallow. Alarm bells are ringing, telling me I’m in a really bad predicament.
“Heard you, Sutton. I heard you say his name in your room,” Shane says with malice, taking a step toward me. I watch as the veins in his forehead appear and take a step backward. There’s nowhere for me to go. A few more paces, and the wall will be to my back. As it is now, I’ll have nowhere to run and no one to turn to. The neighbors are all at work, and my phone is buried in my purse along with my gloves, scarf, and knitted beanie.
“I’m not sure what you heard or why it matters. We’re divorced, Shane. You’re not even supposed to be still living here.” I probably should remain quiet. Talking isn’t going to get me anywhere. I mean, it has worked in the past, biting my tongue and biding my time. Yet somewhere along the way, I’ve decided enough is enough. Maybe it’s from seeing what healthy relationships look like and realizing I deserve more. Truthfully, had I opened my eyes to really see how people treat one another, whether they’re in a committed relationship or just friends, I’d have witnessed it. Sadly, when you’re still going through the motions of grieving and healing, you take what you can get. Good, bad, or indifferent.