Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
My fingers curl into fists. “Know what?” I grit my teeth.
“How it feels to have everything money can buy … yet nothing at all. Cancer took Ruthie. And you took my best friend with your recklessness. And that put me in a predicament. Seek revenge or honor Archer’s request to take care of you and Annie.” He chuckles. “I figured out how to do both.”
I hate him more than it should be possible to hate another human.
“What’s my play? There’s always a play. Something you want from me as an exchange.”
“An exchange for what?” Fletcher asks.
Gritting my teeth harder, I swallow. “Annie.”
“No game. No play. No exchange. I want you to experience what Archer experienced. Helplessness. Doom. Maybe even some regret.” His lips twist. “Maybe not regret. I honestly don’t think Archer regretted anything. Admittedly, he was a better man than both of us combined. You need to practice some gratitude. One day, it will just be you. The rest of your family will be gone, and you’ll have no choice but to cling to your new family. Jolene and Benjamin and the future children you’ll have together.”
“You’re a fucking bastard.”
Again, he chuckles while nodding and puffing his cigar. “I won’t argue with you on that. It’s what your wife and son will say about you someday. Misery has nothing to do but rot. You will rot into something unrecognizable, and you'll see me when you look in the mirror.”
“I will never be you.”
Fletcher holds his tongue; a practiced defense he’s perfected. He turns his chair back to the window.
31
HOMECOMING
INDIE
“Who’s Fletcher?” Lincoln asks, an unexpected punch to my gut the second I make it in the door.
He’s finishing an enormous arrangement.
I give him a nervous smile and nod toward the flowers. “Who died? That’s quite the arrangement. I didn’t see a wedding on the schedule. And it’s a Wednesday.”
“They’re for you.” He bites the inside of his cheek for a second before offering me a tight smile and wide, expectant eyes.
“What do you mean they’re for me?” I laugh it off and deposit my purse on the counter.
“They’re from a Fletcher.”
Bile crawls up my throat. I slowly reach for the card printout that Lincoln hasn’t placed in the holder.
My Darling Indiana,
I miss you. It’s time for a visit.
Fletcher
“Listen, Indie, I know we said we’d keep things casual, but over the past few weeks, you’ve found any excuse not to hang out with me outside of work. And now this? I’m not mad. I just want to know if you’ve met someone else? And is it serious?”
Why did Milo tell Fletcher about me? He had no right to do that. What was the point of telling me to get as far away as possible if he was going to help Fletcher find me?
“Are you open?” A young man peeks his head in the door. “The sign’s not on, but your posted hours say you should be open.”
“Yes. I forgot to flip it on.” Lincoln brushes past me to the door.
“Do you have pre-made bouquets? I’m proposing to my girlfriend.” The young man beams.
“In the cooler.” Lincoln points to the far end of the shop.
“It’s your lucky day.” I grin. “First customer through the door gets this arrangement.” I nod to the flowers from Fletcher.
“Indie.” Lincoln frowns.
“Are you serious?” the man says, eyes bulging from his head.
“It’s easily a three-hundred-dollar arrangement, and it’s yours. Congratulations! I hope she says yes.” Snagging my bag from the counter, I retreat to the back room.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck you, Fletcher. Fuck you, Milo.” I stab my fingers through my hair.
They’ve left me with no choice. It’s time to leave Dallas. Setting my phone on the prep counter, I take a pair of pliers and break it. Then I exit the back of the building to get out of here for good.
“I need you to come with me.”
Jaw set, I tighten my grip on my bag.
Ty holds open the door to his truck, windows tinted black like the paint.
My head shakes over and over. “I’m not coming with you. Tell Fletcher to go fuck himself and die.”
Ty grimaces. “Sorry, Indie. You’re coming with me one way or another. Please just get into the truck on your own.”
“No.” I bolt to the right. “Stop,” I scream when he hooks my waist with his thick arm and covers my mouth with his dirty, calloused hand to force me into his truck.
“Indiana, please don’t struggle. I don’t want to hurt you or have to restrain—fuck!” He jerks his hand away from my mouth after I bite him.
Whack!
Everything goes black.
“There’s my girl. How you doing, darlin’? Ty feels bad it came to that.”
Groggy, I peel open my eyes, squinting against the light, wincing from the pounding in my head and the dull ache along my cheek to my ear. He comes into view in pieces.