know how to respond, and he didn’t seem to need me to. He and Jake eyed each other like wolves as Chase passed and mercifully left our presence.
I exhaled, sagging against the wall. “God, thank you for—”
“What the fuck did he want, Olivia?”
My brows drew together in confusion. “Excuse me?”
“What did he want with you?”
“Nothing. He just happened to be here when I snuck out for some air.”
“He wants you to sell, doesn’t he? He wants you to sell to his greedy daddy.”
“He talked about working together, but—”
“What did you say?” He loomed over me, everything about him accusing. “What did you tell him?”
“Nothing! If I wouldn’t sell to you, why the hell do you think I’d sell to Patton?”
“Chase Patton gets what he wants. This farm. You too, if I know anything about him—and I know too much. He gets whatever he wants, and he’ll take it before you’ve even had a chance to refuse.”
“I cannot believe you,” I said, my hands shaking from fury. “I cannot believe you’d accuse me of—”
“You know better than to get in bed with the devil, Olivia. Don’t give me any more reason to fight you for this farm.”
I stood, dumbfounded, as he gave me his back and headed for the door.
With a slam, he was gone.
And I was alone once again.
7
Farmgirl
OLIVIA
I deserve a gold star.
The shower stream pinged my skin like hot little knives, but I didn’t touch the faucet. Instead, I sighed, closed my eyes, and tipped my head up.
Really, I should have made one of those adult chore charts. Do laundry? Get a star. Make your bed? Shiny little sticker. Shower? That should be worth two. Fill it up, and you get a pair of designer shoes. Not that they’d do me any good out here, but think of how pretty my closet would be.
I’d spent the last three days in bed. Chase Patton had been right about one thing—the day after the funeral had been worse. Even the rest of the wake was unbearable, the sting of Jake’s dressing-down fresh and raw. We avoided each other like a couple of south magnets, the force too great to fight. It was easy to stay away given the density of the ring of people around him. By the look he’d worn, you’d think he was trying to take a nap on a porcupine, but he stood there and listened as everyone offered their condolences. Occasionally, one of them sought me out, offered a few words, and headed away again. But few of them knew me, not after all this time. Some of them had a look in their eyes, a quiet hurt, directed at me.
I wondered how many people thought along the lines of Jake—with accusation that I’d abandoned Pop and the farm—and decided it was more than I was comfortable with.
It wasn’t long before I snuck out the back and wandered into the little patch of woods behind the houses, heels hooked on my fingers and spring grass between my toes. I found the old rope swing and sat there swaying, staring at the spot beneath my feet that had once been bald from use, now as thick as the rest. And I thought.
I thought about nothing and I thought about everything, caught in that state of static, wondering how I could feel so much and still be empty. Flickering memories fluttered in my mind, peppered with questions about my future and the future of the farm. But the threads were impossible to grasp. I stood at a nexus with innumerable paths stretching out before me. I could go one of so many directions, but I didn’t have a single hesitation about which way I wanted to go.
What I didn’t know was how far I’d make it. Not very, if Jake had anything to do with it.
With another sigh, I ran my hands over my crown, the water sluicing down the tail of my hair and to the old claw-foot tub with a slap. For three days, I’d been unable to think about anything except Pop and what we were going to do without him. But today when I woke, I knew it was time.
Can’t gain any ground if you’re flat on your back, Livi, Pop would have said.
So with a resigned sort of peace, I’d hauled myself up and taken my first shower since the funeral.
It was well past time for that one.
While I washed my hair and over-conditioned it on behalf of my curls, my mind wandered to