Page 90 of Westin

He releases a stream of smoke from his nose. “Don’t make me say it twice.”

Distantly, I wonder if tonight is going to be just as awful as when Thomas beat me, just awful in a different way. Shaking like a leaf inthe wind, I step barefoot out on the porch. I’m in just my slip—I didn’t have time to change when Thomas came back.

The straps hang off my collarbones like I’m nothing but a coat hanger. There’s never any time to eat at Garrison Ranch. The days slip by like water through my fingers.

I live off scraps and a dream of going home.

He stands at the bottom of the stairs. Carefully, he takes his hat off, and I remember when Westin took his off and put it on my head, on that hot day when he drove me to the river and kissed me on the bank.

I want to live. God, I just want to live.

My dry lips part. “Whatever you do, just do it quick,” I whisper.

He laughs, his teeth glinting. “You wish you were dead, huh?”

He says it like my misery is a joke. I don’t answer, because the truth isn’t simple. The only way I’d wish I could sleep forever is if it was in the quiet of the cemetery with Nana at my side, the silvery willow blowing above my head.

No road, no pavement to block the stars out.

Still, even if the farm was safe, I can’t wish that. I know what life tastes like now.

It’s sweet apple, from Westin Quinn’s tongue to mine. It’s the incredible, glorious pleasure of his hard, hot body. On me, inside me. It’s the dirty things he says. The way he makes me want to marry him and have his babies.

No, Westin makes me want to live, even if Thomas makes me want to die.

And that’s enough for me to take a step back.

“I’m going inside,” I gasp out.

I spin on my heel and run, locking the door behind me. I have a faint impression of his glittering eyes as he puts his hat back on. I pull the bolt down. His boots crunch, fading away. His truck revs and skids down the driveway.

I taste his anger like smoke on the wind.

And I know I’ll be burnt by its fire before too long.

I see Westin not long after. He’s in town, at the grocery store. Thomas drops me off to do the shopping. I’m standing by the bakery, waiting for them to wrap up my things, when I feel him, like sunshine on my back.

I turn. He’s a few yards away in the produce department. He looks good, startlingly real, the edges of his blue shirt stained with sweat where they touch his neck. His hair is brushed back. His bright hazel eyes are fixed on me like he’s been watching me for some time now.

He’s got an apple in his hand. Round, half red.

Our eyes meet. My body tingles, and he flexes his shoulders like something’s bothering him. I get the impression of strength I only see when he’s naked: warm, thick muscle, scarred by cruelty.

My lips part.

Heat floods my body.

He bites the apple, and I’m back in that bed with my head in his lap. By the glitter in his eyes that he knows what he’s doing. It’s no accident that I’m thinking about him naked just from the flex of his shoulders. I know how strong he is between the sheets, like a beast of burden.

Like a man who has no problem reminding some other man’s wife, in the middle of the grocery store, no less, just how he took her virginity.

My toes curl in my boots.

“Here you go, ma’am,” the deli clerk says.

I take the bread and sliced cheese. When I turn back around, he’s gone. On the drive home, I’m silent, pressed to the door.

I wish I could just tell Westin what Thomas did to me, but I can’t. If he finds out they hurt me like that, he won’t wait to make sure Carter Farms is safe.

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