Page 159 of Westin

I turn, burying my face in Westin’s chest. Maybe it was a mistake to invite him here tonight, but it also feels good to get this closure. The little part of me that always wanted to hit back when he put his hands on me is satisfied.

I hit back. Not with my fists, but I did all the same.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

WESTIN

It’s almost time.

My wife throws her bouquet into the crowd. It bounces off the back of a chair, and Maddie catches it. She has been married for ages, so it causes a ripple of laughter that livens the room. The bartender starts pouring another round of drinks. The music picks up again.

I have to take a piss.

Diane sits with Maddie and Keira, happy and occupied. I dip out of the tent, a whiskey in one hand, and make my way to the edge of the woods several yards away. I have my belt open and my dick out when I hear a branch crack. There are a half a dozen other men out here, doing the same as me, so I ignore it.

Then, I hear someone relieving themselves, too close for comfort. I glance to the side, and I see David’s profile to my left, maybe two yards over.

My blood boils. It’s all I can do to finish and close my pants. His zipper hisses, and I turn around, pretending I didn’t see him.

No—fuck that. I pivot abruptly. His collar is open, tie over his shoulder, whiskey in one hand, same as me.

“Quinn,” he says before I can speak. “I want to talk to you.”

I lift my glass. “I’m all ears.”

He comes closer, and I can see the sweat staining his shirt. His black eyes glitter in the light from the tent. He takes a deep breath.

“I never meant for all the shit to happen that happened,” he says.

I work my jaw, not trusting myself to speak.

“We were in a desperate situation,” he says. “I made the only choice. She was fine. She came out of it fine.”

I’m so red-hot inside, it’s a miracle I don’t break. I can’t. If he senses something is up, he won’t go with Deacon and Jensen. He’ll just flee. He needs to think I forgive him when this conversation is done.

God, that’s a bitter pill to swallow.

“My sister is fine,” David says.

I take a sip of whiskey and a step closer. We’re eye to eye.

“My wife is fine,” I say carefully.

He sputters. “Yes, Diane’s fine. I’d like to let bygones be bygones. Our farms are right up against each other now that the Garrisons are gone.”

“I thought you were selling.”

“I’m hoping this could change that. Maybe Sovereign could have a word about it. He owns the biggest farm around here.”

“Ranch,” I say. “You have a farm. I have a ranch.”

His brow creases. “Whatever it is, we’re neighbors, and this marriage makes us brothers too. I’d like to build a bridge and let the past go.”

It hits me that David’s not only a true coward but a narcissist as well. He can’t conceptualize the damage he did to my wife, but I know it intimately. I know how broken and scared she was when I stole her from Garrison Ranch. All he knows is how to save his own neck.

I take a deep breath. “I agree.”

“Really?” He cocks his head.

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