Page 232 of Bad for Me

Whispers break out again, and one man’s sullen face stands out amongst the crowd. My father’s advisor, Thorn, raises his hand to speak and I oblige. Grievances, when whispered, can turn into unrest. It’s best to quell any negative feelings before they grow.

“One could argue that they came to the compound to target Wisteria Jean. Is it in everyone’s best interest to keep her here?” A few other men, all previous advisors of my father who most likely know the real reasons behind their exile, nod in agreement.

The carefully constructed neutral mask I wear barely hides my rage. Thorn is lucky he asked that in public, because if he asked privately, I would have murdered him. My father’s inner circle needs to be put in their place, sooner rather than later. They can pose a threat to Wisteria’s safety if they decide to rise against me.

“I’m sure you didn’t mean to suggest that we outcast my future wife and leave her to the wolves? Wisteria is just as impacted by The Skulls as we are, and the safest place for her is among family.” Their hushed tone grows louder as shock breaks any sense of propriety they had before.

“Wasn’t she his stepsister?”

“They were childhood friends for years before that…”

“She works fast…”

‘I heard she slept her way through the three of them.’

“I’d like to remind everyone here that my word is law. We are all brothers and sisters, united in our love of life’s bounty and each other. Wisteria is one of us–a six year break won’t change that.” The cryptic expression on Wisteria’s face and her tense body language don’t bode well for me, so I take her hand, so she can feel the truth in my words. “I fell in love with Wisteria Jean Flowers when I was a child. Our parents’ brief marriage never changed how I felt—it just forced me to be patient. But as soon as I could, I made her mine. I hope you’re all so lucky to find someone you feel the same about.”

Marnie, an older widow who watched me often after my mom died, claps for us. Others join in, and I feel the tide of the room changing. I’m sure having Wisteria back on the farm will be an adjustment, and we may get some pushback, but seeing people support us openly is a good sign.

“Unfortunately, I do have to put some rules into effect. Due to the increased level of safety on the farm, no one is allowed to come and go unless it’s for work-related purposes. Children will be escorted to and from school by members of our security team. We will also ask that the security team take extra shifts, and that anyone thinking of joining please speak to Colin Garcia. This adjourns our meeting. Goodnight everyone.”

I weave our fingers together, and she squeezes my hand, digging her nails into the back. With every well wish we receive, it grows limper—her face gets paler. I’m not sure whether to be relieved her fight is leaving her or concerned that she’s unwell. The four of us make the quickest exit we can through the crowd, barely dodging a furious Mandy before hopping into the car. Cain takes the driver seat, and Wisteria Jean pushes her way into the passenger seat, leaving Colin and I in the back.

She’s quiet the whole way home, shellshocked, as if she’s seen a ghost. My Wisteria Jean would be spitting mad right now. She’d rage at me for making such a huge decision for her, even though it was for her own safety.

“Wisteria?” I ask.

Colin catches my gaze and shakes his head, as if to say,give her space. Not knowing where her mind is—and not having complete control of the situation—is driving me insane. The minute we’re all in the house, I pull her to the couch in the living room. She sits, staring off into the distance, her face impassive.

“Well?” I ask her.

She doesn’t move or respond. Tears roll down her face, and when I move to sit next to her, she turns away from me.

“Baby girl?” Cain hedges. “Are you okay?”

Wisteria’s breathing becomes heavier, with each breath more labored than the one before it. Her chest heaves, and her pale skin sheens with sweat. Her body tenses, and Colin feels her pulse.

“Her heart rate is abnormally fast and I think she’s having a panic attack. Wisteria, I’m going to take you to your bed so you can lay down, okay?” She gives him a stilted nod, and he carries her up the stairs, to her room.

“I know why you did it, and it was the right move,” Cain starts, “Something isn’t right about your father’s advisors. Your proposal gives her protection and she’ll come to understand that. But please, give her some room to process it. She’s fragile right now.”

I nod. After six years apart, giving her space seems impossible, irrational, but I can try.

13

WISTERIA

Colin changesme into one of his thermal shirts and a pair of leggings he found in my closet. His touch is gentle, soothing. Exactly what I need to come down from this living nightmare I suddenly find myself in.

I was unprepared for the farm’s reaction to my return. In the back of my mind, I knew it wouldn’t be a warm welcome, but some people seemed hostile about it. Jude and the guys must have thought so too. I’m not stupid—I know his proposal was a ploy to keep me safe, especially if his dad comes back. The minute he announced our engagement, it felt as if the barn walls were closing in on me. The whole thing seems obvious now, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he planned it. But I’m still taken off guard.

I can’t marry Jude Harvest, even if everything he said about us at that pulpit was for show. Especially if what he saidwasn’tfor show.

That copper-haired man is impossible to predict, completely infuriating. I could never keep myself out of his orbit while we were growing up. He made it his mission to keep me close, to watch my every move and torture me. An almost-apology as an explanation from him and a declaration of feelings didn’t erase years of bullying.

I have no clue if his feelings are genuine, but mine unfortunately are. No matter how much I want to curse Jude’s name, I’ve always had feelings for him. Desires I buried deep because of who he was to me.

But he’s not my stepbrother anymore. He’s just a manipulative weight sitting on my chest, suffocating me.

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