Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
I stand there dizzy with a strange, heady rush, trying to decide if he’s telling the truth or if this is another one of his complicated games, but the way he’s looking at me, the way he’s talking, it’s like he opened himself up and he’s showing me the raw and unvarnished insides. This is War, this is only War, and nothing else.
I shake my head and rub my face. “I don’t know what to say,” I whisper, even though a voice is screaming at me to tell him how I feel. “That was a lot and I’m trying really hard to process.”
“You don’t have to say anything. All I need for you to do is hear me. I love you. And this is how you fuck Daisy.” He takes out a stack of papers and shoves them at me.
I take them with numb fingers. “What is this?”
“It’s a contract. She wanted me to get you to sign it.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Daisy hired you for this?”
“That was her stupid mistake. She didn’t realize that you were the real thing and all that other stuff was bullshit.” He smiles and he looks like he’s lighter, like a burden’s lifted from his back. “She also didn’t think I’d outsmart her, but here we are.”
“What did you do?”
“I went behind her back and told a few lies like I always do, but this time I did it for a good reason.” He turns away and gets into his truck. “I’m sorry, Melody. I said what I came here to say, and now it’s all up to you. If you want to get back to Daisy, there’s your ammunition. If you want to let your family fight over the ranch and tear each other to bits, throw those papers away and wash your hands of all this. And if you ever want to talk—well, Ford will be able to find me, assuming I’m still alive.” He pauses and looks at me like he’s committing my form to memory. “Good luck. You deserve better than all this. You always did.”
He starts his engine. I flip through the papers, feeling overwhelmed, tears in my eyes for the first time that day. They roll down my cheeks and splatter on the pavement, and how am I going to let this man drive away now? After he did all this? War didn’t have to get involved again, not after what happened, and yet he tricked Daisy and he gave me these papers and he’s saying everything, all the right things, and I just—
“Wait,” I say before he can put the truck in gear. “How about giving me a ride?”
He hesitates, and he smiles. “Climb in, lovely Melody. Where to?”
“Anywhere,” I say, getting into the passenger seat. “It’s been a long, miserable day. Take me somewhere nice.”
“Let’s go,” he says and drives off.
Chapter 27
Melody
Daisy’s townhouse is on the edge of Dallas in a cute little private community. It’s not expensive, but it’s not cheap either, and I can only imagine that Daisy feels like she’s slumming it for the time being.
Nobody lives at the ranch anymore. The family moved out the day after the funeral in anticipation of the place getting sold. I don’t know where everyone else is living—only Kerry reached out with a friendly text and standing invitation to dinner, which I haven’t accepted yet, but I think I will sooner or later—and I honestly don’t care. Daisy’s the only one I need, and the only one that matters.
War stands by my side as I face down my cousin’s door. “You okay?” he asks and slips his hand into mine.
“I’m okay,” I say, nodding to myself, before I knock.
Daisy answers after a few seconds. She looks tan, her hair cut shorter, and she’s wearing jeans and a lightweight blouse. She looks good, happy, as if leaving the ranch was like banishing an evil spirit that was sucking away her vitality. I squeeze War’s hand, but I don’t let it go, and I tighten my grip on the folder under my left arm. “Hey, Daisy,” I say.
“Melody. Warren.” She looks between us and her eyes narrow. “What’s this about?” But then her face brightens. “You signed the paperwork, didn’t you?”
“In a way,” I say, trying not to smile. “Can we come inside?”
She ushers us into the kitchen and we sit at the table. “Something to drink?” she asks. “Coffee? Tea? Ginger ale?”
“Nothing, thanks,” I say, and War only leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, looking around with a smug little smirk like always.
“I’m glad you showed up,” Daisy says and sit across from us. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and soul-searching ever since your father died and we left the ranch, and there’s a lot I want to talk about.”
I almost burst out laughing. Daisy, doing soul-searching? And now she wants to talk? I swear, if she apologizes, I’m going to punch her in the mouth. I don’t care if she had some kind of spiritual awakening and realized that she’s been manipulating everyone and hurting me for years—she doesn’t deserve forgiveness, and she won’t find any from me.