Page 175 of Westin

She’s all worn out. I kiss her temple and ease my body from the bed. In the dark, I leave our bedroom and move down the hall to my old room. It’s empty now. A bit of pale moonlight falls across the stripped bed.

Quietly, I lift the mattress and prop it against the wall. The wooden platform stares up at me with all the names I’ve accumulated in a neat row. Tonight, only one matters.

David Carter.

My jackknife is tucked behind the bedpost. I take it out, flipping it open, and kneel on the edge of the frame.

He hurt her, my darling bride. Now he’s gone, and she has her entire future waiting for her with a man who will give her everything. Golden, like the sunrise. The gunslinger did what he does best.

Carefully, I drag the knife over his name, etching it out. Then, I flip the knife closed and set it aside.

I think I’ll burn this fucking bedframe. I’m done with it.

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

DIANE

TWO MONTHS LATER

It takes weeks for Westin to find the deed to Carter Farms. There’s little to no professional record of the land. The entire thing will need to be surveyed again to make sure the original property lines are correct. Westin explains what he’s doing to get it in our name. It’s complicated, and he has Sovereign’s lawyer working with him to locate the proper documentation.

All I know is, every day I wake up, and I wish I was home.

I’m alone at the gatehouse a lot during the early fall. Keira is pregnant and exhausted, so I help her when she needs it. When she doesn’t, I ask Westin to pick up boxes in town, and I start packing the gatehouse up, one room at a time, fantasizing about when we’ll have our own place together.

It’s early October one night when Westin comes home for dinner. I’m setting out bowls of stew and fresh bread. Billie lays by the fire, gnawing on a toy Westin brought her from the general store.Everything feels so cozy and perfect, but in my heart, something is off.

“Come here, darling,” he says.

He’s standing in the door, cool air swirling. I go to him, and he kisses me deeply. Something is going on.

I pull back, and he presses something into my hand. My pulse rises as I realize it’s a piece of paper, faded, yellowed with age, like it was kept somewhere damp.

“What is this?” I whisper.

“Open it.”

Hands weak, I unfold it. It’s the deed to Carter Farms, all seven hundred acres of it. And at the bottom, typed out in neat script, it lists the legal owner:

David Carter and Diane Carter.

My head is empty. I’m in the meadow, and a meadowlark rises from the tall grass.

All this time, my name was on the deed. David lied. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered—I never had the freedom to act anyway—but it explains why he was never able to sell to the Garrisons.

Maybe it explains why Avery wanted me married into their family in the first place. I wasn’t just a woman Thomas wanted. I was also seven hundred acres of debt free land.

My head spins.

It doesn’t matter anymore. None of it matters.

The darkness of the past fades, like misty dew dissipating under warm sun. I lick my dry lips and lift my eyes to my husband. He’s looking at me with a faint smile, like he’s never been prouder.

“Where was it?” I whisper.

“Nailed under the floorboards of David’s room,” he says.

My throat is lumpy and dry. I swallow as hot tears slip from my lashes. Westin catches me in his arms and carries me to his chair at the head of the table. I push my forehead against his collarbone, letting tears slip silently down and wet the front of his shirt.

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