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)
“Stupid fucking cunt.” Shane is still on a tirade. Damn, if he hates me so much, why is he still hovering over me? “Get your ass up and clean this house before I get back!” I let out a heavy breath, but there’s no relief, only more pain, unbearable at that. Still, I can’t remain where I am. I need to drag my body to where my purse is, which takes more energy than I thought it could. Adrenaline is pumping through my body. The moment I rest, I’ll really be down for the count. The front door slams shut, rattling the windows in its wake. I count each second. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi… Once I get to thirty, the squealing of his tires tells me he’s gone.
“Oh god, this is what you get for having a bleeding heart.” My words come out more like a slur. Drool is no doubt sliding down my chin. One eye is swollen shut, and my other isn’t much better. Still, I drag myself to where my purse lies on the floor. The contents are spilling out, and each movement makes me realize just how badly damaged I am.
Painfully slowly, I dig through the contents, fumbling and mumbling. My hands ache, and I’m not sure why, but then again, my whole body feels like one big ball of aches and pains. Shane is not coming back here, and I’ll be surprised if I don’t land myself in a hospital bed tonight.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” Thank god for voice assist. My finger didn’t want to work, and my face must really be a sight. Jesus, this is bad, really freaking bad.
“I need the ambulance and police, please. This is Sutton Rawlins.” The dispatch on the other end of the line asks more questions. I try to respond, but I’m crashing. The pain is too much, my eyes close, and the last thought I have is hoping they hurry before Shane comes back to finish the job of beating me to death.
EIGHT
RYLAND
“There’s never a dull moment, swear to Christ.” I’m sitting on top of my horse, Ace. We’ve been riding the fence line after we moved the cows out of this pasture. The last thing we need is to have a break in the line for our neighbors’ animals to trample through. We’ve had our own prized bull do similar to the Ellison Ranch. Luckily, he wasn’t too pissed. Still, we had to pay a hefty fee. That doesn’t seem to be the problem today.
The smoke billows up along the ridge. There are no other buildings up there except for the cabin. I whip my phone out and shoot off a text to the family group chat.
Me: Heading to the cabin. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. Can someone dispatch the sheriff?
I glance down at my phone before I spur Ace into action. There’s a well out there with a hose, but if it’s too bad, we’ll lose the whole damn place before the fire trucks can make it out here.
Lawson: 10-4. Call if you need us to ride up.
I pocket my phone, click my tongue, and tap Ace in his flanks. Luckily, we’re not too far away from the log cabin. It’s not a lot, but it’s where our parents go once a month to get away. The rest of us use it when we need to take a breather. Lawson and Juniper will do what Mom and Dad do when time allows. Still, it’s part of the original family homestead. No one wants to see it burnt to a crisp.
I’m heading uphill at a fast pace. The cabin is just over the horizon. A small creek runs down the back of it, and I’m already running through the mental process of how I’m going to get whatever this fire consists of under control.
“Come on, Ace,” I mutter to my boy. We’re going as fast as we possibly can and still, it’s not near enough. My phone buzzes in my pocket. The vibrating is non-stop, meaning the family group chat is going off, but I can’t stop to check what they have to say. I will after I assess the situation. Wouldn’t be surprised if the whole family shows up shortly after I arrive. We take the trail leading us through the trees deep in the thick of our land. There’s nothing out here. The cabin has the bare necessities, like power and water, but nothing creature comfort wise. Dad and Lawson just now set up the place to have cell service. Lane and Birdie will come out here every once in a while. She’ll work on her design business, something that’s hard to do without Wi-Fi.
The smoke is steady; it’s not building, and it’s not thick. I’m beginning to think maybe one of my family members came out here last night and forgot to put out a fire from the chimney or in the small outdoor fire pit. The knot sitting low in my gut tightens when I see the flashing lights of red and blue. How the fuck did the sheriff beat me to my own goddamn place? Someone else must have called it in. Either that or he was close to the area and saw the same thing I did.